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“I’m not sure.”
He picked up his glass of champagne. “Let me know when you decide. I’m happy to listen, offer advice or act like nothing is wrong.” He took a sip. “Usually our dinners are a prelude to sex, but if tonight isn’t a good night for you, then it can just be dinner.”
He was being so kind, she thought, both appreciative and annoyed. A testament to her being unsettled. While the correct response was to say Thanks, I’ll let you know, what she really wanted to say was Don’t pretend this is a real relationship. It’s not. Only that would sound incredibly bitchy and she didn’t mean it that way.
She held in a sigh. All right, yes, she did mean it that way, but knew she would immediately regret saying it and she really, really hated having regrets.
“The salad is lovely,” she said instead.
“Thank you.”
“You’re wonderful in the kitchen. Much better than me. I don’t have the patience.”
“Cooking relaxes me.” The smile returned. “As long as I don’t have to do it every day.”
The first time he’d offered to cook her dinner, she’d been skeptical. In her experience, a man “cooking” implied really good takeout. But Killion had surprised her with an exquisite meal. Usually they went out to eat but every couple of months, he made dinner. She always offered to help, but he preferred to do it alone. He did tell her what wine to bring. Tonight’s was Peter Michael Mon Plaisir Chardonnay, which they would have with their entrée. The champagne was for the appetizers and salad.
They’d started with prosciutto-wrapped melon with a balsamic glaze, followed by an arugula salad with shaved parmesan. Dinner would be seared scallops with brown butter and lemon sauce and an oven risotto with crispy roasted mushrooms.
The risotto made her nervous. She wasn’t afraid it wouldn’t be good. On the contrary, she was terrified it would be so delicious, she would eat it all and gain five pounds. Although given what she knew about Killion’s skill with risotto, it would probably be worth it.
“Is it Allison?” he asked.
The change in topic caught her off guard and before she could stop herself, she said, “In a way. Summer’s worried about her.” She leaned back in her chair. “She wants me to talk to her.”
“Summer wants you to speak with Allison?” He stood and collected her salad plate along with his own. “Interesting.”
She followed him into the kitchen. “What does that mean? Allison’s in a difficult situation. Summer thinks my business experience might help her.”
His kitchen was large, with an eight-burner stove and beautiful copper cookware hanging from an overhead rack. There were miles of counter space, tons of cabinets, but the real eye-catcher of the room was the man who owned it.
Killion was conventionally handsome—tall, fit, with dark hair and green eyes. He had an easy smile, an air of confidence and a velvety chocolate kind of voice. He was smart, intuitive and funny. The latter trait caused more than one foolish person to fail to recognize he also came with a killer instinct—at least in business. He was a ruthless venture capitalist with a reputation for swooping in when a company was close to being profitable but couldn’t quite get there on its own. He brought in cash and sometimes resources. And he insisted on profitability.
If a member of the existing management team wasn’t pulling their weight, firing them became a condition of the deal. If a division was losing money, off it went. He got in for the least he could and left with as much as possible. Erica wasn’t sure of his actual net worth but had done a preliminary investigation on him when he’d first asked her out. Word had come back that a hundred million was a low estimate. As that amount had put her personal net worth to shame, she didn’t have to worry about him being in it for the money.
“While I think you’d have a lot of advice Allison could use,” he said, before opening the oven to check on the risotto, “I’m not sure I see the two of you sitting down over a cup of tea.”
“There wouldn’t have to be beverages.” She leaned against the counter. “I don’t want to talk to her. We barely know each other. I’ve met her at a few school events and she comes to the occasional softball game. We’re not friends so getting together would be awkward.”
“Very few first and second wives are close.” He heated a pan for the scallops. “Let me guess. Summer didn’t just mention it, she’s insisting.”
“Yes.”
“And you can’t tell her no.”
“I tell her no all the time.”
“Not when it comes to matters of the heart and this is a heart problem.”
He was right, of course. In addition to the aforementioned charms, Killion was also insightful, which both impressed her and left her, once again, annoyed. A testament to the stress caused by the situation, she thought. None of this was her problem, yet here she was, reacting.
“Everything about what Allison’s going through sucks,” she admitted. “I get that. I can’t remember what she does for work, but I doubt it pays much. She’s pregnant, her husband’s in jail, the bank has frozen everything. She’s got to be scared. But it’s not my issue. I don’t mean that harshly, but it isn’t.”
“Except Summer’s making it your issue.”
“She’s trying.”
“Doesn’t Allison already have a kid?”
