far as Dakota was concerned, this was almost the best part of the show—the aftermath when, if the show was a particularly successful one, the energy level surged almost through the roof. She felt far too charged to retreat into her dressing room to go over the next day’s show.
She glanced at Randy and saw that the man was making more than a little eye contact with her production assistant. Maybe this could use a little nurturing. She tried to remember the last time MacKenzie had mentioned going out with someone. Nothing came to mind. Her friend needed to get out.
“Listen,” she said suddenly, placing her hand on Randy’s wrist to get his attention, “do you two have to rush off just yet?”
Randy avoided looking in Ian’s direction, as if he knew a contradiction was in the offing. “Not particularly.”
“Good.” Dakota’s smile took in both men and her best friend. “Why don’t the two of you join Mac and me for a drink—or whatever?”
One dark eyebrow rose in a quizzical crescent. “Whatever?” Ian echoed.
Dakota played back her own words. Oh God, did he think she was propositioning him? Her voice as smooth as silk, she was quick to clarify the potential misunderstanding. “Early dinner, late lunch, whatever you feel like having.”
Ian shifted his weight. The backstage area was quickly filling up with people whose jobs he couldn’t begin to guess at. That created a very small space for the four of them to occupy.
Most especially, for the two of them, he thought darkly. The bubbly woman could have been his shadow, or at least an extension of him, she was standing so close. Close enough for him to feel her breathing. Close enough for the scent she was wearing to infiltrate his senses. Consequently, when she ended her offer by saying “whatever you feel like having” he found himself thinking that he felt like having her.
The thought surprised him. He took a second to get his bearings and himself under control. He was a great believer in instinct, and right now instinct told him that Dakota Delany was the type that if you gave her an inch, she found a way to turn it into a town.
There was no way he was about to get socially mixed up with someone like that. Or anyone else for that matter. He was still one of the walking wounded as far as romance was concerned. He’d learned the hard way that he wasn’t cut out for relationships. There were ways of satisfying sexual urges without getting sucked into a situation that required talking afterwards, or even interaction—both of which he preferred to avoid if at all possible. With everyone.
The best way was to beg off at the very beginning. “No, I don’t—”
He felt Randy’s hand suddenly on his shoulder. “We’d love it,” Randy declared firmly. “Wouldn’t we, Ian?”
Trapped, Ian shrugged dismissively. “Yeah, love it,” he echoed.
Dakota noticed how the look on Ian’s face was akin to thunderclouds descending over the plains. But she felt too good to allow him to dampen her mood. On a whim, she decided to bring him around, just as she had on the show.
“Well, that was certainly a resounding positive vote.” She laughed as she threaded her arm through Ian’s, beginning to forge a path for them. “C’mon, I know a great place to go. We can walk there.”
A slight din began to come from the front of the stage. It seemed that security hadn’t managed to clear away their audience just yet.
MacKenzie fell quickly in behind Dakota. “I suggest walking fast,” she told the group, “before the audience decides to make a break for it and cut us off.”
The people around them parted, but only enough to allow them to wiggle through. Acutely aware that his arm was still in Dakota’s possession, Ian glanced over his shoulder toward the stage as they made their way out.
“I had no idea women could be that, um—” He paused, searching for a word that wouldn’t ultimately be offensive, then finally settled on “pushy.”
Dakota caught her tongue between her teeth to keep from laughing. So, despite his somewhat gruff demeanor, the man could be innocent, as well. She had to admit she found it rather refreshing.
“You’d be surprised,” she said before turning back to the task of getting them out of the studio.
He was trying not to be, Ian thought, attempting not to notice the way her hips swayed as she pulled out in front of him. He was definitely trying not to be.
Heaven, Dakota’s restaurant of choice that night, was located only three blocks from the studio where her program was taped. In the last four years Heaven had become a home away from home to her. Certainly the food there was better than anything that could be found in her own kitchen.
Today, as always, Heaven was fairly humming with patrons, both regulars and first-timers. An elegantly decorated restaurant, its walls were lined with photographs of celebrities who frequented the premises. As on any other day, several could be spotted seated at the scattered tables and booths, enjoying the fare.
It was damn crowded, Ian noted. The line they’d just circumvented was clear out the door. He didn’t take Dakota for the type to cut in front of people, which meant that he was off the hook. “I guess we came at the wrong time,” he said to Dakota.
About to retreat, he found his path impeded by the effervescent woman.
“Not so fast,” she told him as she turned to the maître d’. Dakota greeted the man and subsequently was embraced in what amounted to a Russian bear hug.
Ian sighed. Looked as if he’d failed to factor in the magic of star power.
The tall, mustached man in the dark suit smiled broadly as he released Dakota. “For you? How could there not be a table for you, my friend? Always, always there will be a place for you and your friends anywhere I will be,” he swore, dramatically hitting his chest with his fist.
Dakota inclined her head with a smile. “Thank you, Dimitri.”
The aristocratic man looked around for a waiter. Spying one, he was quick to dispatch the man into the center of the dining area. Within two minutes Dakota and the others were ushered to a booth that was off to the side.
The tables around them were filled to capacity with people who clearly enjoyed themselves and their meals. It seemed rather improbable to Ian that this plum location had gone begging all this time. He looked at Dakota as the waiter distributed elegant black menus with gold lettering. “He kill the people who were sitting here?”
“You always view everything so darkly?” Dakota asked.
He shrugged absently. “Just seems surprising that with all these people in here and that line at the door, that this booth would go empty and unnoticed.”
“It doesn’t, exactly.” She paused to order a bottle of wine for the table, then looked back at Ian. “Dimitri keeps it reserved for me.”
That didn’t seem like a sound business move, unless there was something going on between her and the silver-haired man. The embrace had seemed particularly warm and friendly.
“What else does he keep reserved for you?”
“The best wine in the house,” she answered glibly, nodding at the departing waiter. She deliberately took no offense, sensing he didn’t mean it as an insult but more of a probe.
Ian’s gray eyes held hers. He had no idea what prompted him to ask, “What do you do in exchange for all this service?”
Randy leaned in, an apologetic expression on his lean face. “You’ll have to excuse my partner. He left his brain in his other skull.”
Dakota took it all in stride. “Along with his manners, I guess. Glad they lasted the length of the show.”
She should have left it there, she told herself. After all, the man had no right to infer anything. But she wanted to set the record straight.