Page 12 of Players Like Us (Reunion Gap #7)

Her voice had slipped into sympathy mode again and he couldn’t tolerate anyone feeling sorry for him.

“I’m a big boy and I make my own choices.

” When he smiled this time, he made sure he held it long enough for her to second-guess her comment.

She hesitated as if she were about to challenge him, and he took that pause to shift the subject back to the reason for the restaurant visit.

“So, what do you think about the table arrangements? Too close? Should they be shifted a bit to the right to give the waiters more room? And what about the booths? I like the feel of this leather—” he patted the leather seat “—but do you think the cream color is too risky?”

“The tables should be spread out a little more, not only for ease of serving, but privacy.” She shook her head, let out a quiet sigh. “The worst is having dinner with eight or more of your closest strangers. Ugh, I dread that.”

“Closest strangers, huh?” He laughed. “Make sure you use that term with Dominic. He’ll love it.”

“Have you ever been stuck at a table that’s part of a number of tables where there’s a booth on one side and chairs on the other?

They are the worst.” Her eyes lit up and her cheeks flushed as she relayed the experience.

“Here you are, trying to have a conversation and you can literally hear the person next to you chewing!”

Neal couldn’t say that he had, but he’d always been the one who got premier seating. “No thanks. What about the booths?”

“Leather booths are always a plus, high-end, great feel, speaks of luxury and it’s not hard or uncomfortable...makes a person feel like they’re at home.” Her brows pinched as she studied the booth. “I’d pick a darker color though. This is almost an off-white.”

“Agreed.” He actually did agree with all of it.

“As for the positioning of the tables, that’s an interesting one.

If you want to be seen, you’d pick a table near the door.

Or, if you want to check out the comings and goings of the customers, you’d take that table—” he pointed to the one situated near the bar “—you’re definitely going to see what’s happening.

It’s better than the door option because everyone sees you, from the waiters to the ma?tre d’ to the customers.

” He paused, sipped his wine. “Lots of traffic, high visibility, but no privacy.”

She squinted toward the table he was referring to, took in the man and woman sitting there, hands clasped, chairs pushed closer together.

“Yes, it’s pretty much a look-at-me and I’m-going-to-see-everything that’s happening.

I think Matilda’s has a more private feel that encourages intimacy, so booths are essential. ”

She was straight on with that. He and Dominic wanted to provide the intimacy of a quiet gathering, away from nosy people and too many questions. “I’ve always preferred a booth, no matter who my dinner guest was because…”

“Intimacy or privacy?”

A shrug and a scrap of truth. “If I want to be the main attraction, I know how to do it, but I also know how not to…”

“Really?” Her lips twitched and he didn’t miss the humor in her voice when she spoke. “Neal Alexander knows how to take a back seat? I would never have guessed.”

Her teasing made him relax and before he could censor his words, he offered his own brand of teasing.

“I’m very good in the back seat.” The second those ridiculous words escaped his mouth, he realized what he’d said—and that he’d referenced that night in the back seat of his car.

“I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right.” Neal coughed, cleared his throat, and downed the rest of his wine.

Rachel blushed the color of the burgundy draperies, ran a hand along the linen tablecloth in an attempt to steer the conversation back to the restaurant.

“I like the choice of a linen tablecloth, and the small candle. This tablecloth is probably a pain to deal with, but it’s worth it.

People come here for more than the food.

This is about an experience, and they’ll pay extra for that. ”

Good, they were back on “restaurant makeover” talk and away from his very bad “back seat” comment.

That’s exactly what he’d told Dominic when his friend suggested a restaurant makeover.

“I agree. Dominic wanted real candles but aside from the obvious safety factor, not everyone can tolerate them. And what about the potential smoke when it burns? You’ve got to deal with that as well as the replacement, and you have to remember to blow it out.

Too much hassle.” He eased the round vase filled with a floating lily toward them.

“I also like the idea of a single rose or maybe a few sweetheart roses in a fluted vase, but I don’t know. Do you think it’s overdone?”

“What about if it’s just for special occasions?

If a couple is celebrating an anniversary or a marriage, birthday, engagement, something like that?

People appreciate the extra touches and I can picture a fluted vase with a miniature rose or the sweetheart roses.

” She opened her handbag, pulled out a pad and pen, flipped it open and sketched.

“Something like this.” She drew a fluted vase, added a rose.

“It wouldn’t be that much extra work, but these are details you can think about later. ”

Neal studied the drawing, held out a hand. “Can I see your pen? She handed it to him, watched as he added his own sketch—a round bowl with pebbles on the bottom and a rose floating in it. “So, I just totally changed up my idea. What about something like this?”

Rachel leaned forward, inched the notebook toward her, keeping it open so they could both study it.

“I like it.” Her voice shifted, filled with excitement.

“It’s all of the details that make a place special.

The shapes and textures, the color of the walls, the lighting.

Simple, yet compelling and intimate.” More excitement seeped through her words.

“I can picture it now. And if you change the music from contemporary to jazz? It would be stellar.”

Stellar indeed.

Something shifted after that conversation, long before the entrées were served and while Neal didn’t want to name it, he could feel it...a gentle sway of tone and mood as they shared their thoughts on the facelift for Matilda’s.

Rachel pointed to the floor and the ceiling. “There are too many hard surfaces in this restaurant. It needs something to soften the noise.”

Neal laughed. “People spend a lot of money for those hard surfaces to give it a busy, can’t-be-left-out feel, but I agree. Unless the guy’s too loud, trying to block out his dinner guest.”

She responded with her own brand of mischief. “Or maybe she’s daydreaming about someone else.”

Who would’ve thought he and Rachel could share a meal and actually enjoy it?

Not him, but that’s exactly what they’d done.

Between bites of beef carpaccio, caprese salad kabobs, filet medallions Oscar, and crab-stuffed salmon, they discussed sound reduction, table placement, and the best way to present the specials. When and how should they be offered?

Rachel certainly had a lot of questions and she made him consider all of them, from the smallest details to the big ones.

And then there was the overarching theme as she called it which she said was a tie-in of intimacy and romance.

Okay, he could go with that one because intimacy and romance were big sellers.

According to Rachel, you had to toss in chocolate desserts, and not just any chocolate dessert but the decadent kinds: dark chocolate truffle cake, lava cake, a mousse with chocolate ganache.

He supposed the pastry chef could come up with a few suggestions, or Rachel could talk to Dominic about her ideas.

Neal could go for any of them, especially the dark chocolate truffle cake.

Since Calvin’s didn’t have that on their dessert menu, they had to settle for a mixed berry crumble with a dollop of vanilla ice cream and two spoons. “This is a taste of heaven.” She raised a spoonful of berry crumble to her mouth, smiled.

But Neal wasn’t thinking about the dessert as his gaze slid to her lips, imagined their sweetness. “Yes, it certainly is.”