The word photo disappeared from the screen.
Number six, Phoenix Rising, was posted in the first slot.
Number eight was listed in the second.
“We won.” Ed turned toward her, pure joy skating over his face. “We won, Gen!”
He grabbed her and spun her around, breaking the hold of Wolfe’s grip. The guys whooped and shouted, spilling beer and pounding backs in a whirlwind of activity. When they showed the magic tickets, she came out with thirty thousand dollars and an IRS form. Ed pocketed two grand.
She walked in a daze as the boys celebrated, talking about champagne and dinners and bar hopping. Wolfe walked beside her and stopped at the front gate. “You’re coming with us, right?” Ed asked. “You’re my lucky charm. Let’s get some dinner and relax. Get to know one another.”
Steve and Tom stood behind, trying to be cool. Wolfe took a step back and said nothing.
Uh-oh. She caught the interested gleam in Ed’s eye and wondered how she’d once again trapped herself into hurting another man. Still, it had been an incredible day and she’d never forget him. Gen raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
“I just broke off an engagement, Ed,” she told him. “I’m a wreck. But today, for a few hours, I forgot. I had a blast and I’ll never forget you, but I have to go home now.”
She waited for puppy dog eyes and a crestfallen expression. Instead, he nodded, brought her hand to his lips, and kissed her palm. “You’re a hell of a woman. Thanks for today. It was a sign for me, too. Tracey wasn’t for me.”
“And you’re a hell of a man. You deserve more.” Gen smiled, said good-bye to the other guys, and made her way back to the car with Wolfe. A strange lightness poured through her, as if the universe had just told her things would work out. Maybe not right away, or next week. But Phoenix Rising had won, against all the odds, and maybe there was magic in the world after all.
“You okay?”
She glanced toward him. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, hands wrapped around the wheel. Ready to take her away from any demons following them. What would she do without him?
“Yeah. I won more than you today.”
“You did.” He started the ignition and pulled out.
“Where are we going now?”
“Prime rib, baby. On you. Up for it?”
She settled back in the leather seat and grinned. “Hell, yeah.”
Nine
WOLFE KNEW EXACTLY when the guilt hit.
They’d just ordered their meal at Mouzon House. Offering fresh farm-to-table food in an intimate setting, the place was perfect for conversation, quiet, and culinary genius. Wolfe’s background in Italian dining taught him one thing. Simple didn’t mean average. A five-star dish was based on quality ingredients used to showcase the flavors without a lot of fancy stuff getting in the way.
Too bad he still couldn’t cook.
She’d been upbeat and chatty on the drive, but now a shadow passed over her features. Her shoulders slumped and she stared at her plate, lost in another world. Somewhere not as safe.
“You missed the bread.” He pushed the basket over and breathed in the scent of steamy dough and rosemary. “Rip away, I can get more.”
Gen shook her head. “No thanks. Carbs aren’t smart. I shouldn’t have had that pizza either last night.”
He raised a brow. “You used to plow through the whole basket, leave me with the crumbs, and have never once been overweight. Where’d you come up with that crap?”
“David.”
The name shot like a bullet and shredded through denial. He fought the blistering anger again at the asshole’s ability to make her question everything about herself—from her career, to her sex life, to her damn weight.
He sharpened his voice. “You work out regularly. I’d also bet you’re underweight now and could use some bread. Try a piece.”
A ghost of a smile passed her lips. “You’re bossy.”
“That a surprise?”
She tore off a piece and nibbled. Then closed her eyes in delight. “Oh, this is good. It’s got garlic, too. Better not breathe on you later.”
He snatched up a slice and munched. “Now we’ll both reek. Did he make you doubt yourself?”
She jerked. Wolfe knew well the best way to grab a secret is the art of the surprise attack. Sawyer had taught him the move well, trying to pull information from him he’d tried to lock down inside. “No,” she said softly.
Lie.
He didn’t challenge her. Just nodded. “Good. Because if he did, that would be a major reason not to get married. Not that I’m an expert, but I think you’re supposed to inspire confidence in your partner. Right?”
“Right.”
The waiter interrupted them with the appetizer. The crawfish beignets were the specialty and had the delicious crunch and flavor as if they had been plucked straight from the lake. Damn good.
“He’s a perfectionist. Part of his talent, I guess. He’s one of the most sought-after surgeons in New York. You can’t blame him for wanting to be better and pushing others to do the same. Look at you and Purity. You’ve dedicated everything you have to making the Manhattan site a success. You even learned golf.”
“Thanks to Nate.” He’d met Nate Dunkle on the course when he’d been desperate to learn the game in order to sign an important client. Though they didn’t know each other, Nate gave him private lessons and taught him enough to play decently in record time and score the deal. He was now hooked up with Gen’s friend Kennedy. “Who would’ve thought I’d enjoy hitting a little ball across a field to put it in a hole? I used to make fun of golfers and now I am one. And you’re right, I’m a bit of a perfectionist in wanting to succeed and not accepting failure. Nothing wrong with it as long as you don’t break the cardinal rule.”