Generations by Amelia C. Adams

Author:Amelia C. Adams [Adams, Amelia C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

When Marissa stepped into the lobby at Alberto’s, she wasn’t expecting to be met by the owner himself or to be personally escorted back to the table where Andrew was waiting for her. He came to his feet as she walked up and held out his hand. She took it, then slid into the chair Alberto pulled out for her.

“Tonight, you will try my special, yes? Tender chicken with rosemary on a bed of delicate pasta, paired with an arugula salad. Very summer, very nice. I’ll send the waiter in a moment. Enjoy.” He beamed at each of them before disappearing.

“I’m sorry about that,” Andrew said, looking a little sheepish. “He does that whenever I come in, but you seem like the kind of girl who prefers to fly under the radar.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Marissa replied. “He seems like a really nice guy, though. How’d you get on his special list?”

“He was a friend of my father’s.” Andrew nodded toward the menu. “You don’t have to get the special—order whatever sounds good to you.”

“No, the special sounds great.” Marissa smiled up at the girl who brought them water, then turned back to Andrew. “I have a confession to make. As soon as I got back home and had decent Internet, I Googled you. I feel really stupid for not knowing who you are before now.”

“What do you mean? You’ve always known I’m Andrew Brody.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know you’re Andrew Brody.” She emphasized each word. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Oh, come on. Multi-millionaire investment banker, philanthropist, supporter of the arts, collector of fine spoons . . .”

He laughed. “You made that up.”

“Okay, I made up the spoons, but not the rest of it. Why didn’t you tell me you’re a stinkin’ celebrity?”

He leaned forward. “Because I’m not a stinkin’ celebrity. I’m just a guy with a lot of cash who decided to spend it on things I like. Spoons don’t happen to be one of them. I’m more of a fork guy.”

“And you don’t think I should be weirded out by this new information?”

“No. Why should you be? I’m the same guy you met on Friday.”

“Not really. Honestly, I’m not even sure what to do with myself. I feel awkward and gangly and all sorts of gauche now.” Saying it made her feel even more gauche, but it was important to her that he knew how she felt.

“I see.” He looked down at the table, then back up. “This doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, does it? I didn’t mean this to . . . be a thing.”

Marissa shrugged. “I’ll get used to it, I guess—and maybe it’s better that I didn’t know at first. I might have been too nervous to show you my ideas.”

“I’m glad you did show me.”

The waiter came around and took their orders, then Andrew said, “I just didn’t peg you as being so . . .”

“So what?”

“Well, snobby.”

She sat back and looked at him with surprise. “Snobby? Snobby? What are you talking about? I’m probably the least snobby person you know.

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