Stephanie Evanovich - The Sweet Spot

He slid into his seat and proceeded to completely ignore her. His attention centered solely on entertaining his date. He sat so that if Amanda glanced over, his back was presented to her. There would be no cat-and-mouse game of him trying to catch her eye, no drama played out from behind the scenes. He didn’t use a trip to the men’s room as an excuse to exchange a few words with her. He never looked over, not even once. Chase appeared to be enthralled with whatever was going on at his table, which from what Amanda could tell, was a great deal of laughter and waify giggling.

Amanda found out through Nicki that both women requested specially prepared salmon, grilled and basted in olive oil and lemon, with steamed vegetables, no carrots.

Figures, Amanda thought, as she saw to it that the order was expertly prepared. Within fifteen minutes, interest had passed into pique. It was unexpected and startling. She had no justification; she had told Chase all along he didn’t stand a chance. And it wasn’t necessarily the presence of the woman that irked her. Amanda wasn’t even sure she saw her as a threat. It was the pure, unadulterated snub from the man who’d spent every spare minute he could until tonight catching her eye from wherever he was seated. Who wrapped her up in his unabashed affection and delighted in it. She hated having to admit she was hurt because Chase Walker wasn’t showering her with his attention. And even though she really was flustered, there no way in hell she was going to show it. She wanted him to get back to living the high life, she told herself. She was just having second thoughts about seeing him do it in her restaurant.

As Chase and his companions dined, and the more she tried to ignore them being there, the more Amanda couldn’t refrain from looking over. He wasn’t touching his date, hadn’t moved in too close, but he was fully engaged in his tête-à-tête with the woman. It was all very proper and genial, and by the time they ordered coffee and one dessert, Chase’s favorite, Amanda was fighting off a full-blown snit.

Amanda didn’t check on his table as she would’ve normally done with most guests, mostly because she didn’t think she could trust herself. What she did, in her opinion, was the next best thing: Anybody who showed the slightest interest in the celebrity dining in the back of the room, she sent them right over to his table. Normally, when Chase was eating, she would smoothly point fanatics over to the bar, telling them that Chase hung out there after he ate and loved a good conversation. But tonight, Amanda told a dozen people in the most encouraging voice she had that, yes indeed, that was Chase Walker, and he loved meeting his fans, even when having dinner. Half of the people she told shied away and left him alone. The other half paraded right up to him and, if nothing else, momentarily broke up his love-fest. And she quietly enjoyed the small vindication from afar, until she got what she wanted: He looked at her. After getting out of the booth to stand at the table and accommodate a picture, he faced her direction. He smiled for the picture and then scanned the room, instantly finding her. It was brief, and it was perceptive. Or maybe she just felt guilty for the immature way she’d resorted to rattling his cage while still keeping her distance. He gave her a tiny smile before returning to his seat.

They finished their coffee, Chase paid the bill, and then they got up to leave, passing by Amanda on the way out.

“Thanks for a wonderful meal,” Chase said brusquely, taking his date by the elbow to escort her out the door.

“Thank you for dining with us, Mr. Walker,” Amanda replied with the same sass she employed every time she used his formal name. “Please consider coming back again.”

Logan and his date followed in Chase’s wake. Logan was shaking his head, with a small knowing smile of his own. “It was nice to meet you, Amanda. Sorry about the mix-up.”

And then he was gone. All that remained were her unjustifiable wounded feelings and an exorbitant bouquet. She sullenly got back to work while business slowed down and, nearing the end of the night, she went back to the roses, dejectedly touching the petals and rearranging the stems.

“FOR PETE’S SAKE,” ERIC EVENTUALLY said from the other end of the bar before approaching her. “How much longer are you going to let this go on? He’s starting to tell people he’s eaten everything on the menu twice. The guy is really starting to get the sympathy vote. If you don’t say yes soon, you’re going to look like you’re shooting him down to build your clientele.”

Eric wasn’t far off. It was starting to feel like saying no to him was akin to burning the American flag.

“He’s got you batting for him now?” Amanda asked, still concentrating on the flowers. She had started to find all the good-natured teasing a bit intimidating. She never expected him to make good on his threat of becoming a pest, but she had gotten used to it. She couldn’t throw him out now. From the sound of it, her entire staff would start a mutiny if she did. And when all was said and done, after the evening’s events, she didn’t want to. She had started looking forward to his arrival, more than she would’ve wanted to admit. She felt a spike in her heart rate every time he came through the door, a sudden hitch in her breathing that she attributed to his charisma sucking all the air out of the room.

“Yeah, what are you waiting for?” Nicki chimed in, having been his waitress and witnessing the whole bizarre evening from both sides. “He’s not perfect enough for you?”

Amanda didn’t take what Nicki said personally. Nicki had tried her best to hide her disappointment when it became apparent Chase was indeed interested with someone at the Cold Creek, and it wasn’t her. It was a tough pill to swallow. Rejection was rejection, no matter how you look at it. Amanda knew that pill, and the current pill didn’t taste much different. She continued to study the flowers. She had just been rejected, by a guy slick enough to believe he could honestly play both ends against the middle, with a swankier consolation prize.

“No one is perfect,” Amanda stated, hoping she was effectively downplaying his actions and that using the word wouldn’t set off a chain of events ending up with her in the hospital. “There’s always that fatal flaw and I’ll bet his is a doozy.”

“Fatal flaw?” Nicki repeated with interest.

“Yeah,” Amanda explained. “It’s a theory we figured out back in college. When you first start dating a guy, he’s busy saying all the right words and acting like Prince Charming, trying to get you naked. Then if he likes the outcome, it’s all about trying to get you to stay naked, but the flaw is there, lying dormant, until you’re hooked. By then it’s usually too late; you’re all wrapped up in the memory of when you first met and everyone was on their best behavior. Then you ride the breakup-makeup carousel until you both can’t stand yourselves. Our final analysis was, until you find the fatal flaw in your potential partner, the relationship can’t ever be real.”

“That’s stupid,” Eric remarked, free to speak his mind. There were times when Amanda was a boss and there were times when Amanda was a friend. Most of the time, she was both. “People are always changing. What’s a flaw in someone who’s twenty-five could be a nonissue five years later.”

“So what happens when you find it?” Nicki asked curiously, ignoring Eric. Boys knew nothing of the sisterhood.

“Then you decide if it’s something you can live with, and if the good makes the flaw worth it,” Amanda continued. “For instance, you can take a guy who enjoys his free time with the boys, but one who spends every weekend drunk is a no-go. Maybe he’s a real cheapskate when it comes to showering you with gifts and expensive dates, but he’s all about you when you hit the sheets. Or you don’t mind that he doesn’t have a really great job, as long as while you’re working he’s not at home cheating on you.”