Page 8 of Players Like Us (Reunion Gap #7)

W hen an unfamiliar number lit up her phone screen, she considered for a half second that it might be Neal Alexander. What a silly assumption. The man didn’t even have her phone number and if he did, why would he call? They hadn’t exactly had a stellar conversation.

“Hello?”

“I’d like to speak with Rachel Reese?”

The no-nonsense male voice definitely did not belong to Neal Alexander. “This is Rachel.”

Maybe it was a follow-up for the server application she’d filled out the other day. That would’ve been online though and—

“This is Dominic Lombardi. I run Matilda’s restaurant on Garfield Avenue. Are you familiar with it?”

Who wasn’t familiar with that place? She’d only been there once and it would be a while before she ventured there again.

The shrimp risotto with porcini mushrooms was indeed mouthwatering and the Chilean Sea Bass not to be missed, but the prices?

Not exactly in Rachel’s budget. “Yes, I’ve eaten there and I absolutely loved it. ”

The man’s voice dipped with pleasure. “Thank you. We take great joy in pleasing our patrons.”

“And we truly appreciate it.” Pause and then a curious “How can I help you, Mr. Lombardi?”

“Dominic, please. I’m calling because Matilda’s needs a facelift and I heard you might be able to help with that.”

She’d only mentioned her design background to a few people. Neal Alexander’s arrogant, too-handsome face splashed through her brain. Had he said something? No, impossible. “May I ask who mentioned my name?”

Slight hesitation. “A mutual acquaintance. I’m not at liberty to say but this person asked me to take a look as a personal favor.”

Neal Alexander had offered his help but she’d practically accused him of an ulterior motive.

Was it him? Who else could it be? What about Simon Bainbridge?

He did say he’d look into things, but she’d never dreamed he’d get results this fast. Still, he was a lawyer and they knew how to fast-track business.

“The person doesn’t want his or her name revealed? ”

“Correct. Not at this point.”

It had to be Simon! What would Neal Alexander say if he knew the man he’d warned her against had actually provided an opportunity for her to show her work? She wished she could tell him so he’d see that not everyone was smothered with ill intentions. Some people really did want to help others.

“I do want to clarify that I’m not looking for a complete redesign with the whole space and function analysis. This is more of a facelift, but it could still prove challenging and if you’re interested, I’d love to meet with you.”

Wow. Just wow. Rachel gripped the phone, tried to keep the excitement and nervousness from her voice.

Who cared if the request didn’t include space and function recommendations?

Or even if it turned out to be more interior decorating than design work?

It was solid work and she was going to meet with the owner of Matilda’s.

Crazy. Incredible. Fantastic. “I’m very interested. ”

“Excellent. Would you be able to meet today at 3:00 p.m.?”

“Yes, I can be there.”

“I’d like to take a look at your work and we can chat about the particulars of what I’m looking for...”

“Thank you so much Mr.… I mean Dominic. I truly appreciate it and please thank our mutual acquaintance as well.” Her voice turned soft. “I owe him.”

“Our mutual acquaintance doesn’t ask for favors often, and when he does, I’m always happy to oblige.”

Simon told her he knew a lot of people who could help with her business. She’d only half believed him, especially after her conversation with Neal Alexander. What did that man know? He’d probably never helped anyone in his whole life—except for himself.

Rachel spent the next several hours practicing her speech and studying her portfolio.

She’d made so few presentations these last several months, what if she messed up?

What if she finally had the opportunity she’d been hoping for, and she blew it?

What if—no. She could do this . It didn’t matter if she hadn’t made a formal presentation in two years.

What mattered was that she was genuine and honest and showed passion for her work.

All she wanted was an opportunity. Hadn’t people said she possessed an eye for color and the ability to blend the tiniest detail to make it flow?

As if the piece were always intended to be placed there?

Okay, maybe they were discussing the vintage sweaters she’d embellished with specialty buttons and jewels or the way she reworked second-hand evening attire to give a one-of-a-kind feel.

Her portfolio had the same authenticity as her repurposed clothing.

Different, yes, but the tone, the essence?

The ability to meld space with function?

She turned the pages with the various settings she’d created for the showrooms where she’d worked.

Most of her employers told her they didn’t care what she did, as long as she was fast and it didn’t appear thrown together.

So what if it was the setting in a real estate showroom or a furniture store?

Dominic Lombardi didn’t have to know that.

But what if he asked for references? What was she supposed to tell him? I have none?

She would show this man her portfolio and offer ideas for his restaurant, but then she would tell him the truth.

She had no experience and no real references.

But if for some reason, he didn’t ask? Say Simon had enough influence that Dominic could look past the need for either? Well then…

At 2:54 p.m., Rachel opened the door to the upscale restaurant and headed inside.

She’d only dined here once, but she’d been taken in by the intimate feel long before the waiter delivered the first appetizer.

The dark wood, dim lights, linen tablecloths, and soft music drew her in.

The tables were arranged in a pattern of intimate sophistication.

There were leather booths along the walls and large paintings scattered throughout the area.

She hadn’t recognized any of the artwork, assumed it might be the owner’s personal favorites.

When she first arrived in McLean, she’d heard Matilda’s was a must-visit. You’ve never tasted filet mignon like this. It will melt in your mouth. And the salmon? Flown in daily. The prices indicated such.

Rachel made her way to the back of the restaurant where a man sat in a booth, dark head bent over a report. “Dominic?” He glanced up, smiled, and removed his reading glasses. Dark hair, darker eyes, tanned, late thirties. Very nice-looking.

“Rachel.” He slid from the booth, extended a hand. The smile and the gesture made him even more handsome. “So glad you could come.”

She absolutely should be thanking him. “Thank you for seeing me. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m anxious to see your work.” He pointed to the portfolio tucked under her arm. “It’s time for a change and I hear you might be just the person to bring about that change.”

There was the tiniest hint of curiosity in his voice that made her wonder if he were speaking of more than just a restaurant remake.

Was he talking about Simon as well? Maybe Simon didn’t ask for favors often and the idea that he would had Dominic wondering if there was a personal level of interest tied to the asking and the favor?

“Before we discuss business, might I interest you in a few samples?”

Who would say “no” to that offer? “I would absolutely love that.” Rachel eased into the booth, set her portfolio next to her on the table.

“Excellent. I’ve asked the chef to prepare a few of my favorites. What would you like to drink? Wine, tea, a mixed drink? I could suggest a wine or if you’d like something stronger, I can help with that as well.”

She was supposed to be working, not sampling the menu and drinking. However, the man did seem very interested in sharing items from his menu. And his bar. “A glass of cabernet would be wonderful.” Even if nothing came of this meeting, she owed Simon for arranging it.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll let the chef know we’re ready to begin.

” One more smile, followed by a nod and Dominic headed toward the kitchen.

Rachel glanced at the portfolio resting beside her.

Dominic Lombardi had such a sense of elegance and style, from his black turtleneck and jacket to his dark-washed jeans and Italian loafers.

She closed her eyes, massaged her temples, and considered what she’d show him.

Would the simplistic designs she preferred be enough for this place and meet this man’s expectations?

Would he be willing to get rid of the dark interior and opt for a bolder, more open look?

Intimacy could still be achieved with color, fabric, and brighter lights.

She was contemplating a way to approach the conversation when a familiar and unwelcome voice crashed into her thoughts.

“Rachel Reese. Fancy seeing you here.”