The Heartbroker by Kate O'Keeffe

Author:Kate O'Keeffe [O'Keeffe, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Lime Books
Published: 2015-09-13T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

“You look particularly beautiful, tonight,” Logan says as he holds the restaurant door open for me.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” I walk past him and into Boulcott Street Bistro, one of the city’s best and longest-standing fine dining restaurants.

“Nice choice.” I look around the room appreciatively.

“Thanks. I have a good adviser,” he replies, taking my coat.

I wonder who his adviser could be. They’ve managed to pick one of my all-time favourite restaurants. “Who?”

“Oh, just a little bird. I need to protect my sources.”

I let out an easy laugh. “I wouldn’t want to put you in a compromising position.”

He raises his eyebrows at me, and we share a look, my Girly Bits pricking up their ears. “Later,” he murmurs into my ear, before we turn to follow the maître d’ to our table.

“Legal say they haven’t seen your contract amendments yet,” he comments once we’ve had our first sip of wine, a sauvignon blanc from the Marlborough region in the South Island.

“No. Our lawyers are still working through it. They’ve promised to expedite it, so I should have their comments in the next day or two.”

“Excellent.” He smiles at me across the table. “So we don’t have to talk about work at all tonight.”

“Exactly. What have you been up to in my fair city today?”

“Oh, I’ve had an awesome day. I started with a run around Oriental Bay where I stopped for a coffee at a place with a great view of the city. Then I had to do some work, so went back to the hotel to do that. Then I went to The Weta Cave and did the tour again.”

He flashes me a broad smile and I chuckle, shaking my head at him. He had been to The Weta Cave, the movie effects workshop responsible for films such as The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, on his first trip to Wellington before we went to Queenstown.

“What?” He looks both indignant and amused in equal parts.

“You’re such a Tolkien geek, aren’t you?”

“Loud and proud. You should come. It’s awesome. You get to see how they work.”

“Sure,” I reply, thinking how enjoyable it would be to share Logan’s passion with him. “That sounds like fun. Even though I’m more of a rom com kind of girl.”

Our waiter interrupts us with an outline of the dining offerings and, once we’ve both ordered, conversation flows again.

“How many chick flicks have you actually seen?”

“Excuse me, they’re called ‘rom coms’, not ‘chick flicks’. And I’ve seen a few.” I don’t want to admit to the full extent of my obsession.

“Chicks,” he says good-humouredly, shaking his head.

“Well from the perspective of a ‘chick’, as you put it,” I begin, using air quotes, “what’s not to love about a romantic comedy? Cute guy? Check. Nice clothes? Check. Happy ending? Check. Perfection.”

“You see that’s exactly what I don’t like about them. They’re so predictable. You know the guy will get the girl in the end. Why bother watching it?”

“I’ll tell you what: I’ll stick with my movies, and you can stick with yours.

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