Page 14 of Shadowed Agenda
Regandrownedthepieceof lobster in the melted butter. Yeah, she was overdoing it, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had steak and lobster. It wasn’t in her budget.
She closed her eyes and savored the taste of lobster mingling with the butter. Right up there with sleep and sex. Any mother with a toddler would understand her placing sleep before sex.
“That good, huh,” Pavlo said, and Regan’s eyes shot open. “That was a very appreciative moan.”
She was glad the low lighting hid the flush heating her cheeks. Pavlo cut into the huge steak on his plate. How did she allow Pavlo to talk her into dinner after the taping of the late-night show?
Regan’s response to herself was a mental eye roll. It hadn’t taken any convincing. Reporters and paparazzi had swarmed her the minute they’d left the building. Everyone wanted to know the celebrity’s identity who had booked her for a private book signing.
Pavlo had bundled her into the car waiting for them and uttered one word, “Dinner?”
She’d nodded her head. A few seconds later, Pavlo directed the driver to the steakhouse, taking a roundabout route to ensure they hadn’t been followed.
Nope, it hadn’t taken much convincing for her to join Pavlo for dinner at one of the finest steakhouses in New York. Although, she’d have gladly dined with a ten-year-old if he’d rescued her from the mob in front of the late-night show’s building.
The subdued lighting, quiet jazz playing in the background, and elegant surroundings made it impossible for Regan to stay wound up. She’d gradually relaxed. It was probably the reason Pavlo had chosen the steakhouse.
“I wonder if we’ll find Isla sitting in the lobby waiting for us to return?” Regan couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. Pavlo had left Isla to fend for herself.
Pavlo burst out laughing. “More the reason for us to take our time. Let her stew.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Regan said, “I no longer trust Isla. She’s always been pushy, but there’s desperation behind it as if she’s manipulating things behind the scenes to her advantage.”
“I feel the same way. The question is why,” Pavlo said and ate a morsel of steak.
“I don’t know.” Regan shrugged and dragged her last piece of lobster through the melted butter. She set her fork down.
Tapping his finger on the foot of his wineglass, Pavlo appeared lost in thought, staring at an invisible point beyond Regan. They hadn’t spent much time together, but she’d been wrong thinking he was arrogant and aloof. Pavlo was quiet, introverted, and as smart as the heroes in his novels. She’d never admit she’d read them all. He was an excellent writer.
Regan sipped her wine. The past twelve hours must have shaken her up more than she realized if she would admit that Pavlo Barislov was a nice guy.
Niguel, the co-owner of the steakhouse, approached the table. He’d introduced himself when they’d arrived.
“Can I tempt you with dessert?” he asked as he cleared the table. “I would recommend the Saskatoon pie. The berries are rarely available. Our chef is Canadian, and the recipe is his great-grandmother’s.”
“I’ve never had Saskatoon berries,” Regan admitted.
“Pie and coffee it is,” Pavlo said, smiling.
“Cream and sugar?” the server asked.
“Black,” they answered in unison, and Regan laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an evening out that didn’t include rushing home from the university, picking up Emmeline from her parents, putting her to bed, and then doing a load of laundry—not that she was complaining about her life. Most single moms weren’t blessed with parents like hers.
Regan had moved back to the small town in Kansas she’d grown up in after her divorce from Nicholas. A small home two blocks from her parents had just been put on the market, and she’d scooped it up.
“So, you know everything about me. How about some equal sharing,” Regan said, embarrassed that he knew more about her life than she normally shared. “Are you close to your family?”
“My parents are still happily married. My sister, Anastasia, is two years younger than me, and we’ve always been close. I call her Anya.” He stopped talking as Niguel placed a cup of coffee and an enormous slice of Saskatoon pie with a healthy dollop of whipped cream on the side in front of each of them.
“This looks wonderful,” Regan said, wondering how she would eat the entire slice after the incredible meal she’d just finished. Niguel didn’t move, and Pavlo looked at her expectantly. They were waiting for her to taste the pie.Seriously.
She picked up her fork, cut off a piece of pie, and popped it into her mouth.
“OMG,” she said, her mouth half-full. “I swear I’ve never tasted anything this good.”
Both Pavlo and Niguel laughed.
“I’ll tell the chef you said you like the pie,” Niguel said, his eyes crinkling in amusement, and he left.