Page 45 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

“I’ll need to see some identification,” the host said. “You realize that dinnertime reservations at Gerlake fill up months in advance—particularly on a holiday weekend.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Jenna snapped, stepping forward. “Is there really a rash of people impersonating diners with reservations? I can see our table over there. It’s the one with the sterling silver roses on it, right? They’re Mia’s favorite. She had them at the wedding.”

Mia gave her a grateful smile and pulled out her ID, along with her phone.

She flipped to the photo album and thrust the screen in the host’s face.

“See? Right here. There’s me, there’s Mark Dawson, and there are the damn sterling silver roses.

Just like the ones on the table. Do you want me to text my husband, or can we have a seat at the bar while we wait for our reservation, because my feet are killing me. ”

The host gave them a dubious look, then stepped aside and waved them toward the bar. “Your table will be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Great.” Jenna grabbed Mia’s arm. “Please let me buy you the snootiest, froofiest drink on the menu.”

“Deal.”

As soon as they took their seats, the bartender gave them multi-page menus teeming with descriptions of gourmet drinks. They both consulted the mocktail section—Mia from necessity, Jenna in solidarity.

“I’ll have the Cucumber Sekanjabin Sharbat,” Jenna decided, probably slaughtering the pronunciation. “Do they really simmer mint sprigs in balsamic vinegar with honey for precisely thirty minutes? Never, like, twenty-eight or twenty-nine?”

The bartender gave her a tired look, along with a nod. He reached for a bright copper cocktail shaker as Mia studied her menu.

“The Grape Tarragon Spritzer,” she said. “But it says here the organic tarragon is muddled. I’d really prefer mine gently fondled.”

The bartender didn’t crack a smile. “I’ll have those right up.”

As he moved to the end of the bar—presumably to fondle the tarragon—Jenna turned to her friend. “I’m sorry this isn’t the date night you’d hoped for.”

“My hopes aren’t all that high these days.” Mia shrugged, scanning the velvet-draped lounge. “It’s okay. This, too, shall pass.” She offered a watery smile. “You’re a very nice date in the meantime.”

“Thank you.” Jenna tried not to feel like a terrible friend. “That dress looks great on you.”

“Thanks.” Mia peered down into the deep V-neck. “Might as well get the most out of these melons while I’ve got ‘em.”

Jenna stopped herself from saying Mark was missing out. He’d have a chance to appreciate the perks of his wife’s pregnancy another time. “Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t been to Gerlake since Shawn brought me here on our one-year dating anniversary.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Mia surveyed the candlelit tables and the dark, abstract art on the walls. “I do wish Mark could have made it.”

“Maybe you can do dessert together later.”

“Or I can bring him a takeout box of something tasty.”

“There you go.”

“Hey.” Mia squinted at the far end of the lounge where a woman stood close to the coat check. “Isn’t that the filmmaker we met at Sunridge Vineyards last year? Kate someone, right?”

Jenna peered through the dimly-lit space. “Kate Geary—you’re right.” She waved as the pretty producer looked over.

The woman’s face lit with recognition and Kate made her way across the lounge to greet them. “If it isn’t my extras from the wine film.” She hugged Jenna first, then Mia. “I’m sorry I’ve forgotten your names, but I never forget faces.”

“Mia and Jenna.” Mia picked up her glass as the bartender set it in front of her. “What brings you to Portland?”

“Location scouting, mostly.” Kate flung a hand toward a table where two other women sat chatting. “My assistant producer has a friend who lives here, so we’re picking her brain for a possible project.”

“Oooh, what’s this one about?” Mia asked.

Jenna plucked her drink off the bar. “Another wine documentary?”

“No. This one would focus on women behind bars.”

Mia’s eyes took on a scandalous shine. “Has one of those women done time in prison?”

“Nah.” Kate chuckled. “Her parents got picked up on a ponzi scheme, so her mom’s incarcerated in Seattle.

There’s no federal penitentiary for women in Oregon, which is one of the things we’ll focus on if the film gets the green light.

” Kate dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Between you and me, it’s a long shot, which is fine.

It’s not really my passion project, you know? ”

“Wait a minute.” Jenna squinted at the woman on the left. “Is that Allison Ross?”

Kate blinked in surprise. “You know Allie?”

“She works with one of our statewide medical associations,” Jenna said. “Allie’s hosting a big event soon in Belmont’s conference space.”

“That’s where we work,” Mia supplied. “Belmont Health System. I’ve never met Allie, but Jenna knows her.”

Wincing, Kate lowered her voice. “Please don’t mention the situation with her parents. She doesn’t like to talk about it and?—”

“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “We can keep a secret.”

Mia patted Jenna’s arm with pride. “This one’s like Fort Knox. Her literal job is keeping secrets.”

Jenna tried not to grimace as she turned back to Kate.

“The Ponzi thing was all over the news when it happened, but most people didn’t connect the dots to Allie.

” Jenna only had because—like Mia said—it was her literal job to identify PR landmines and cover them up when needed.

It hadn’t been needed in Allie’s case, at least not on behalf of Belmont.

“The Ponzi situation isn’t a secret, but I’ve never brought it up with Allie. ”

“Jenna’s tactful like that.” Mia sounded so proud, and Jenna hated herself just a little bit more. “Always looking out for people’s feelings.”

“Sounds like a good friend.” Kate smiled.

“A better PR professional,” Jenna muttered, though Mia seemed to miss it as she thumped her drink loudly on the bar.

“What else are you working on?” she asked Kate. “Any exciting new film projects?”

“I can’t really say anything yet.” The spark in Kate’s eyes told Jenna much more than her actual words did. “There’s a project I’m working on for unscripted television—reality TV, I guess most people call it.”

“No kidding?” Mia sounded delighted. “Like a dating show or something?”

“Or something.” Kate’s cagey response made both women lean closer.

“We’re still ironing out creative differences with the network.

You know how it is—sleaze sells, so they keep sending us ideas like, ‘what if you cast twins who sleep with each other’s wives?

’ or ‘hey, how about a woman who’s secretly dating her best friend’s ex? ’ That sort of thing.”

“Ick.” Mia shuddered, glancing at Jenna. “Is it wrong to admit I’d probably watch that? But mostly to yell at my TV about what a backstabbing bitch she is.”

Kate chuckled as Jenna felt all the blood drain from her face. “I’d watch it with you,” Jenna managed, grabbing her drink and gulping down half of it as Kate scanned her with curious eyes. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot going on in the production world.”

“Don’t worry,” Kate said, stepping back with a wave toward her friends. “I’m not big on the sleaze factor. If the network wants to go down that path, they’ll have to fight me every step of the way.”

“Not your jam, huh?” Mia polished off her mocktail.

“Nope,” Kate said. “I’m afraid not. Will you ladies excuse me? I should get back to my table.”

Jenna set down her drink. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Good luck with the projects,” Mia called.

As soon as she walked away, Jenna turned to Mia. “That was fun seeing her again.”

“It was.” And now she had one more thing to worry about. The speed with which Mia declared someone who dated her best friend’s ex a “backstabbing bitch” stole the breath from Jenna’s lungs.

Was that really how Mia saw things, or was she just cracking jokes? Had they really never discussed this, not even in general terms? Jeanna thought about asking, but what could she say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

So Mia, I’ve been wondering, hypothetically, for absolutely no reason at all, what you’d think about me dating Adam. Would it really be the worst thing?

“Ladies?” The stuffy host from the front of the restaurant stood at the edge of the bar. “If you’ll come with me, your table is ready.”

“Great!” Mia clambered off her barstool with Jenna on her heels, feeling like an absolute . . .well, heel .

They trudged through the restaurant to the flower-adorned table by the window.

Jenna pulled out Mia’s chair, then sat down across from her.

As soon as the host disappeared, a waiter turned up wearing a starched white shirt and an expression that implied one of the guests might have peed on the floor.

“I understand there’s been a change in the reservation?”

Jenna sighed. “The reservation is for two people. There are two of us here. Is that a problem?”

The waiter frowned. “Gerlake prefers to reserve this particular table for special occasions. If you’re not celebrating a milestone of some sort, we’d prefer to relocate you. There’s a lovely spot near the kitchen that?—”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Jenna placed her hand on Mia’s. “My wife and I are celebrating the impending birth of our baby. Now if you’ll give us a moment to look over the menu, we’d be grateful.” She flicked her hand at the disgruntled-looking waiter. “Run along now.”

The man harrumphed and turned on his heel, leaving Mia giggling behind her hand.

“I’m your wife now?”

“Why the hell not?” Jenna reached over to grab a pitcher of ice water from a nearby server’s station. She filled Mia’s glass first, then her own. “We get along better than most spouses. I’m totally going to expect you to put out.”

“You’ll have to buy me the lobster then.”

“Deal. The flowers are beautiful, by the way. That was nice of Mark to have them waiting for you.”

“He didn’t.”

“What?”