Page 30 of Alaskan Blackout
“With this weather? I doubt it,” he said as the elevator doors opened outside of a softly illuminated dining room. “For tonight, I hoped you might enjoy the kind of creature comforts you give up by living far from the mainland.”
The scents of spices and roasted meats mingled in a savory aroma while uniformed staff moved among the diners. Real white candles burned on every table beneath clear glass hurricane shades.
“Oh wow,” she murmured as she took in the elegant space. A bank of windows overlooked the darkened harbor on the far end of the room while the back of the restaurant was ringed with yellow-and-gold-lighted wall tiles. “This place is gorgeous.”
Pleasure filled him at this small approval.
“Apparently, it is the only Michelin-rated restaurant in Alaska right now.” He would have hired a chopper to fly them into Anchorage if there’d been a better option there. “I hope you brought an appetite.”
A wry smile curved her lips that he couldn’t quite read. “I’m definitely hungry.”
An hour later, they were midway through a perfect evening. He’d gotten to see another side of McKenna, learning about her degree in hospitality and her brief stint as a concierge in San Francisco. He knew the hotel where she’d been employed, an excellent establishment that he wouldn’t frequent again unless they did something about the small-minded supervisor who’d fired her when she’d been the victim of someone else’s malice.
But the conversation had provided a natural segue for him to share everything he’d uncovered about the origin source of footage that had caused untold harm. He’d already emailed the information so she had digital files to provide the authorities, but tonight he’d explained her possible next steps over the most perfect lobster thermidor he’d ever eaten.
McKenna had ordered the same since it came recommended by the chef, though she’d refrained from the wine that would have been an incredible pairing with the dish. He might have thought the instinct was born out of being the daughter of an alcoholic, but he recalled she’d had a beer the night the last time they’d gone out.
Not that it mattered. Quinton was enjoying the evening far more than he ought to, considering he needed to tell her that he would be leaving town soon. He delayed saying anything about it since they seemed to have reached an agreeable impasse tonight, where they simply relished the time together without confronting the deeper issues.
That she wouldn’t tell him anything about Clayton.
And the fact that he’d betrayed Clay by sleeping with his half brother’s stepsister.
A thought that threatened to wreck an incredible evening with a woman he still desired more than anyone he’d ever met. She told him stories about fighting hundred-pound fish as easily as she shared anecdotes from the time she was a concierge and found ways to fulfill special guest requests—like filling a guest’s hot tub full of white rose petals or importing a guest’s favorite mustard, which was only made by hand in small batches in the south of France.
While Quinton was busy trying to envision the McKenna he knew standing behind the concierge desk of a metropolitan city hotel, indulging demanding guests, their waiter returned.
“May I bring you dessert?” the server asked while discreetly using a silver table crumber to remove a few bits of bread from the white linen cloth. “We have a Meyer lemon meringue tart that is not to be missed, but I’m also happy to bring you a menu if you’d like to review all of the options.”
Quinton looked to McKenna, but she shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite. Everything was fantastic.”
His gaze stuck on her for a long moment after he asked the waiter to bring the bill. He tried to pinpoint what made her look so lovely tonight. Her color was high, her beauty so fresh she glowed. Perhaps her long trip out to Attu had been good for her.
Or maybe he was just making excuses for not telling her he needed to leave Dutch Harbor. He already had a flight booked for Sunday.
But how could he get on the flight when he couldn’t even envision how to leave her alone once he dropped her off at her place tonight? The need to kiss her again was a hunger their meal hadn’t begun to sate.
When McKenna stood after he’d settled the bill, she allowed him to help her on with her jacket. Quinton took a moment longer than necessary, sliding his hand beneath her hair so he didn’t trap it under the coat. He thought he heard her intake of breath. A sharp inhale.
But then she cleared her throat and turned to face him. “The dinner was extraordinary. Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I will confess I worked hard to find something special that you probably hadn’t done before.” Once more, he allowed himself to touch her waist briefly, just enough to escort her toward the exit.
His fingers tingled with the need to touch more.
“I definitely haven’t tried my luck to board a cruise ship while it was in port,” she said dryly. “Leave it to a Kingsley to think of something so decadent.”
He wondered if she viewed him as entitled, like one of the guests she used to indulge as a concierge. But almost immediately, she shook her head and halted her step, turning to look back at him.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. The evening was special and I appreciated it. I only meant to say that people around here wouldn’t think to do something like that. To go to great lengths to show a date something unique.”
It surprised him that her blue eyes appeared sincerely worried that she’d offended him. Which was a far cry from her usual attempts to keep him at arm’s length.
The urge to cover her lips then and there was almost more than he could tamp down. Instead, he curved his palm around her hip in a gesture more possessive than he’d allowed himself all evening.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he told her sincerely, his voice going deeper at the thought of being with her again.
Because he couldn’t deny that’s what he wanted more than anything tonight. Not to worry about telling her he was leaving. He really just wanted the chance to experience that incredible chemistry between them one last time.