Ten Night Stand by Mickey Miller

Author:Mickey Miller [Miller, Mickey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-18T18:30:00+00:00

7

I took an Uber early to Marseille Club for my professional dinner. The restaurant sat along the Chicago River in the downtown area, on Chicago’s historic Hubbard Street, which was home to many of the best restaurants in the Midwest. I had given Steve the heads-up that I was going to be meeting with Jake, and he even gave me the company card.

For the professional dinner (as I kept emphasizing to myself). I finally said, eff it, and wore the three-inch heels that I had been staring at in my closet since I got to Chicago. Wearing them put me in the six-foot-three range, which gave me the interesting experience of feeling like somewhat of an ogre towering over most of the people I walked past on the sidewalk. Eff it, because if I couldn’t wear them to a non-date with a six-foot-six baseball player, when would I ever wear them?

Plus, the heels went really well with my sleeveless cobalt sheath dress.

Amy was right. What was my problem? Why couldn’t I just enjoy the fact that a very entertaining, charming, and yes, sexy man was trying to take me out to dinner? I took a deep breath before heading inside and reminded myself of the new mantra I had adopted, thanks to Amy.

It’s about the journey, not the destination.

I went through the revolving door, past the coat check, to the host stand.

“Good evening, miss. What’s the name?”

“It should be under Napleton,” I said with a businesslike smile. I tried not to fidget with the strap of my purse.

The host, who was in a white suit coat and black tie, straightened his posture noticeably at hearing Jake’s last name.

“You’re with Jake Napleton?” he repeated, very slowly, as though he were having a hard time processing it.

“Yes,” I said flatly, staring back at him.

He arched an eyebrow at me, still not convinced. “The pitcher for the Chicago Jaguars.”

I tossed my long hair back, shot the man a Tennessee smile, and mustered my best Southern twang. “Only Jake Napleton I’ve ever met!”

He shook his head and touched his finger to the tablet he was holding. “Mr. Napleton has not checked in yet. You may wait in the lobby until he arrives. Thank you Miss, uhh...”

“Diggers. Andrea Diggers.” I sighed. Before I headed toward the lobby, I peered into the main dining room. The interior decoration was impeccable. Overhead was a glass roof that let in a fair amount of evening light. On the far side of the room there was a row of five booths that were slightly raised from the rest of the dining room. All of those raised booths were occupied, except for the booth in the middle. A giant kitschy-looking white-and-blue sign above the empty booth said YES, and nothing else.

My mind started to wander, wondering if the YES sign was some sort of subconscious marketing strategy to get diners to order more. I was about to dig into my purse for my phone and check the time when I felt a hand on my bare shoulder.

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