frowned. McKenna, was what she’d thought. But what she’d almost said was, me. Me, you, us, Arthur. We’re just not right for each other.
But it wasn’t true. They were right for each other, it was only that she was in an insane mood today. Just look at how she’d treated that poor custodian. She owed him an apology, and she’d give it to him first thing this afternoon, but right now, she was going to let Arthur help her get back on an even track.
He could do it, if anyone could.
“The problem,” she said, clearing her throat, “is Griffin McKenna.”
Arthur blinked. Just for a moment, it made him bear an uncanny resemblance to her glassy-eyed fish.
“Your employer? My dear Dana, I don’t understand. What has he to do with our lunch?”
“Nothing, Arthur. He has to do with me. With my job, with my self-respect, with my responsibilities at Data Bytes.” She drew back her hand and sat upright “You cannot imagine how much I despise that man.”
Arthur sighed. “My dear Dana—”
“Do you think you could stop saying that?”
“Saying what, my dear?”
Dana forced a smile to her lips. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I just—I’ve had a bad morning, that’s all. My nerves are shot. That’s why I called you. I need your advice.”
“You need...” Arthur’s smile dimmed just a little, then brightened again. “I’m at your disposal, of course.”
“There’s a problem at work, with my boss and the code we’ve been working on. I tried to tell McKenna about it, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“That’s surprising, Dana. Griffin McKenna is a brilliant strategist. According to the Journal...”
“The Journal doesn’t bother mentioning that he’s a pompous ass! I hate working for him.” Dana paused. “So, I’m asking for your opinion.”
Arthur’s bow tie rode up and down his Adam’s apple. “I’m flattered, my dear.”
“Should I start looking for another job?”
“Well, if you ask me—”
“Or should I ride it out? McKenna won’t stay at Data Bytes forever, but Dave Forrester probably will.”
“True. And—”
“But, if I quit, what kind of references would I get?”
“An excellent ques—”
“On the other hand, what can I accomplish by staying on? Forrester’s just going to keep screwing up and McKenna’s going to keep treating me as if I’m a troublemaker.”
“I see. If you think—”
“He’ll fire me anyway, when the new code blows up tomorrow. But if I quit before then, he’ll think he forced me out.” Dana’s eyes narrowed. “I refuse to give him that satisfaction.”
“Well,” Arthur said quickly, “if you really want my opinion—”
“I might not need references. I know lots of people in this business. I could find a job, a better job, then tell McKenna what he can do with this one!”
“True. But—”
“But that would be giving in. And I won’t do that. I’ll never do that!” Dana seized Arthur’s hand. “Oh, I’m so glad I asked your advice! Thank you for helping me come to a logical decision.”
Arthur blinked. “Ah...you’re very welcome.”
“You’re wonderful, you know. You’re so clear-headed.”
A pink glow suffused Arthur’s cheeks. His fingers tightened on hers, and he leaned forward until his bow tie lay nestled among the daisies and tea roses that separated them from each other.
“Thank you, my dear.”
“Thank you.”
Beaming with delight, Arthur lifted her hand to his lips.
“Monsieur.” The waiter favored them with the hint of a smile. “Would you and mademoiselle care for some café and dessert? Some sorbet, perhaps, or an excellent tarte...”
“Nothing, thank you,” Dana said. She smiled at Arthur as she rose to her feet. “I feel rejuvenated, thanks to you, Arthur. And I’m really eager to get back to work.”
Cynthia was talking, something about a luncheon she’d attended with his mother. Griffin was trying to pay attention, but how could he, after that incredible display? The Bow Tie had kissed Anderson’s band, and she’d given him a thousand-watt smile in return.
Anderson rose to her feet. So did the Bow Tie. And they headed straight in his direction.
Griffin’s jaw tightened. He tossed his napkin on the table and shoved back his chair.
“Griffin?” Cynthia said.
Anderson was holding the guy’s arm as they came down the aisle, looking at him as if he were the only man alive.
“Griffin?” Cynthia asked, “are we leaving already?”
Griffin stepped away from the table, folded his arms and waited. The estimable Ms. Anderson was still chattering away, smiling brightly, her head tilted toward the Bow Tie.
Griffin felt a tightness in his belly. She had never looked at him like that. Not that he’d want her to, but still, it was infuriating. She’d given him the kind of look you gave tapioca pudding when you had it shoved in front of you. How come she was gazing at Bow Tie and damn near glowing?
“...Don’t know what I’d do without you,” she was saying. “You’re so good for me.”
They were going to walk right into him. Griffin almost smiled as he anticipated her shock. But at the last second, Bow Tie pulled his adoring gaze from Anderson’s face, looked up, and saw Griffin standing, immobile, directly in their path.
To say he blanched was to be kind. The guy turned as white as paper.
“Mr. McKenna!”
Anderson nodded. “That’s right,” she said. “That’s all you hear around the office. Mr. McKenna this and Mr. McKenna that, spoken in such hushed tones that, frankly, sometimes I just want to—”
“Now, now,” Griffin said coolly. His lips curved into a tight smile as she skidded to a dead stop not more than six inches off his chest. “Be careful what you say, Ms. Anderson. We’re in a public place, after all.”
Dana’s heart slammed into her throat. “You,” she croaked as she looked into the scowling face towering above her.
“Indeed, Ms. Anderson. What a small world.”
Dana’s thoughts were whirling. McKenna? And a woman who looked as if she’d just stepped out of the fashion pages? But that was impossible. She’d chosen this restaurant with such care! McKenna wasn’t supposed to be here.
And why didn’t he step back? Why didn’t Arthur step back? Then, at least, she’d have room to breathe. She wouldn’t have to stand so close to McKenna’s hard body that she had to tilt her head at a neck-breaking angle just so she could look him in the eye.
“Introduce us,” Arthur hissed in her ear.
“Did you enjoy your meal, Ms. Anderson?”
“Dana,” Arthur whispered, “please. Intro—”
“What are you doing here?” Dana said.
Griffin’s scowl deepened. “Having lunch, Ms. Anderson. And you?”
“I don’t mean what are you doing here, Mr. McKenna, I mean...” God! What did she