Just Desserts (12 page)

He smiled mischievously. “I’m not divulging my sources. Actually, I’m not sure of times yet. I only heard The Foo would be playing at one of the clubs on Addison Street sometime this week. I’m rooting for the Wrigley Club since my sister Emily owns it.”

Quinn pulled up in front of Club Lucky. Built during the prohibition era, glass brick walls were meant to disguise it as a restaurant when it really was an old-time corner tap and bar. George had remodeled it to double the size and made it into a legitimate restaurant since his cannoli alone made his business boom.

Sadie slipped out of the Porsche after Quinn opened the door for her. On the sidewalk, under the canopy, she watched him. He spoke to the valet, handed him the car keys and a fifty-dollar bill. The valet pocketed the tip and hopped in the Porsche, thanking Quinn profusely. The guy really did get lucky thanks to Quinn. Sadie wondered if she could get a valet job from George.

The bar was crowded. Three deep full. Sadie inhaled George’s signature tomato sauce infused with basil, oregano and garlic. Her mouth watered. “I hope George didn’t forget about me. I haven’t been here in way too long.”

“He hasn’t. He asked me what you wanted for dessert when we talked earlier.”

“How do you know him so well?”

George, a tall man with a full head of silver white hair, made his way through the crowd and met Sadie and Quinn before they had a chance to step out of the foyer. He embraced her with an un-fatherly bear hug. “There you are. It’s lovely to see you
ragazzina
.”

Sadie caught the slightest scent of
Gio
aftershave. George was closing in on seventy-five, but a true Italian stallion. She suspected he still had his way with the blue-haired ladies, who lived in the neighborhood and came in for his senior discount specials.

George shook Quinn’s hands energetically. “You’ve been scarce. Family keeping you busy?”

“Yes, Mr. Vitucci,” Quinn said, sounding stiff and formal.

Sadie swallowed a giggle. Quinn, who was formidable in his own right, seemed daunted by George. Quinn was respectful, almost reverent.

“Family always comes first,” George said. He gave Sadie a gimlet stare. “And for you my dear, I had the kitchen prepare caramel apple pie, your mother’s recipe. Come along.”

Quinn held her hand as they followed George into the back dining room. They sat in the corner booth with a window, which looked out onto the trafficked Wabansia Street.

The houses in the old Italian neighborhood were charming. The whitewashed wood front porches displayed an impressive variety of lawn chairs and garden ornaments.

“
Familiagia
. Eat well.” George kissed Sadie on the cheek and left.

“Now can you tell me how you know George? He seems like a father figure to you.” From the bread basket, Sadie grabbed a bread stick covered with sesame seeds. She dipped it into the scoop of butter.

“Father figure. That’s an interesting observation. I’m not close with my dad, so I suppose you could say that. He was a friend of my mother’s back when they were in high school. Club Lucky was my first renovation job. I guess George was my first boss.”

She looked around the restaurant. “Of course. The place looks like a twin of my mother’s diner. I should have known. You do have a type,” she said.

“I don’t have a type.”

“Lots of vinyl and chrome?”

“Oh right that type. Got it.” He looked down and read the plastic-covered menu.

“I was just joking,” she said.

He smiled. “I know.”

Sadie sensed she struck a sore spot. She wasn’t sure, and didn’t pursue it.

A pretty waitress came up to take their table. “Ready to order, Quinn?”

Sadie eyed the waitress. She was gazing at Quinn.

He didn’t look away from the menu, “A bottle of Vitucci’s Chianti and some clams to start, Patrice.” He glanced up at Sadie. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Uh.” Sadie knew what she wanted to eat but suddenly couldn’t remember what it was called. Her thoughts were thrown into a tizzy. Did she or didn’t she feel an intimate moment pass between the waitress and Quinn? She scanned the menu to get a grip. “I would like the Penne Arrabiata with the shrimp.”

The waitress glared at her, then turned back toward Quinn. “I know you’ll want something without any meat,” she said with a giggle.

“I’ll have the ravioli. Thanks.”

Sadie watched as Quinn handed the menus to the waitress. His eyes seemed to linger for a second on her full lips. Patrice had more lipstick on her mouth than Sadie owned.

“I’ll be back with your carafe.” She turned and left.

Sadie stayed fixated on the waitress as she stopped at another table.

“Earth to Sadie. What are your plans this week?”

She twisted around in her seat to fully face him. “I want to get together with my advisor. See if we can get my agenda ready for my thesis.”

He ripped off a hefty piece from the loaf of Italian bread and dunked it into the aioli oil. “What’s your thesis going to be on?”

“The architectural designs of three select Chicago historical landmarks and how they impacted the city proper.” She glanced back into the dining room to see where Patrice had disappeared.

“Which three landmarks?”

“I haven’t decided. I’d like to include the Board of Trade and maybe the Wrigley Building, but I’m struggling with the third. My goal is to settle it with my advisor Frank by the end of the week.”

“Think you’ll be available for a Cubs game? Friday night they play the Brewers. I’m having a party. You can come and celebrate your final thesis with a baseball game.”

Patrice placed a carafe of red wine on the table and two stem-less wine glasses. “Your clams will be right up.”

“Thank you,” Quinn said.

Sadie noticed that Patrice hesitated after he said thank you. Then the waitress looked back over her shoulder, as she walked toward the kitchen.

“She’s very pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her here before,” Sadie said.

“Patrice is George’s niece. She usually works at another family restaurant in Evanston.”

“Oh really? I didn’t realize they have two locations. Did you work on that place as well?” Sadie watched as he poured her a generous glass of wine.

“No, no. I didn’t work on George’s other place. I ate there pretty often when I worked on a nearby site.” He drank his wine. “What about the Cubs? Are you a fan?”

Sadie took a big swig of Chianti. “Oh. So while you worked at a job site, you frequented her table often?”

“No. Once in a while, I suppose.” He set his wine glass down on the table and gazed at her. “What’s wrong? This our first date in Chicago and something’s bugging you. What is it?”

“I…” She sucked in a breath. “I’m out of sorts. Long day. And not even any hot water to take a steamy shower.” She cast out her disparaging déjà vu. “I’m a Brewers fan, but a Cubs game would be fun.”

“No hot water? What’s the problem?”

“The heater’s broken. I guess.”

“I’ll take a look at it tomorrow. Maybe I can fix it.”

“Handy and handsome.”

He smiled and looked around the restaurant.

“Looking for someone?” she said.

“Not someone. The clams. Our food. I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” She tried to fight off the notion that she was another waitress like Patrice. “So there’s another Club Lucky?”

“No. It’s a trendy coffee shop and diner on the Evanston campus.”

“Oh.”

Patrice brought the bowl of steamed clams and shell dishes. She set two white linen napkins on the table next to Sadie, and another couple she handed directly to Quinn. “You can have more if you want.” She laughed. “I know what a mess clams can make for you.”

Sadie felt burning heat creep up her cheeks. Quinn didn’t acknowledge Patrice’s comment. He grabbed the napkins, laid them on his lap, and ladled a scoop of clams into Sadie’s bowl, and then his own.

Through dinner, Patrice wandered over so often, Sadie couldn’t finish a bite, much less chew it. Quinn gobbled his ravioli while Sadie nibbled at her penne pasta.

After, Patrice cleared their plates and set her well-manicured hand on his shoulder. “What would you two like for dessert?” She asked without making eye contact with Sadie. “The chocolate cheesecake is delicious.”

Sadie smiled at Quinn. She had practically lectured him about George’s delicious pie crust on the way back to Chicago.

“That sounds terrific. I’ll have a slice. Any fresh berries?” he said to Patrice and then looked at her. “Hon, what are you up for?”

So much for a sweet finale to their first date in Chicago.
“Can I have a slice of apple pie with the caramel sauce?” Sadie said despondently. And then before Patrice took off she quickly added, “In fact, can you put it in a container to go?” She nodded toward Quinn. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to have to take a rain check on the Porsche ride through Wrigleyville.”

Patrice strode away and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Are you all right?” Quinn stood and came to her side of the table. “Can we have our apple pie at your place?”

“You mean chocolate cheesecake, don’t you?” she said curtly.

“Right. Damn.” Quinn took off toward the kitchen and bumped into a waitress on the way. The tray in her hand wobbled. He marched into the kitchen and came back out carrying two doggie bags and a small Styrofoam container.

“What’s in there?” Sadie asked as they left the dining room.

“Extra caramel sauce. Come on.” At the bar, he handed her the sauce and the two bags of pies. Quinn retrieved a couple bills from his wallet and gave it to George.

They walked out of the restaurant and when they were on the street he whistled for the valet. Within moments, the guy pulled up in front of them with the Porsche.

“Did you like your dinner?” Quinn asked.

“Food was great. I just didn’t expect to be interrupted by an annoying waitress.”

“Right. I had a hard time concentrating. I couldn’t stop looking at her lips.” He opened the door for her.

She slid into the car. “They were voluptuous.”

“They flopped around when she talked. It freaked me out. I kept thinking of Kermit the Frog. What is it with women and Botox? Jesus.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Why?”

“Never mind. Let’s get to my place before the caramel cools.”

He started the NASA-sounding engine and sped off. Waiting at a stoplight, he turned to her. “Not only did that waitress freak me out, she made me uncomfortable. And I think you too. Am I right?”

“Yep.”

“Mad at me?”

“No. Miffed, maybe.”

“She’s got nothing on you, Sadie.”

“She’s a waitress. Like me. In a restaurant. That you frequent.”

“Not the same.”

As he drove the car to her apartment, he slipped it into a lower gear then sped around to the back of the rehab building across the street.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“There’s an underground parking lot in this building that I can use. I’m inviting myself into your place. I want to see your bedroom.”

“And wonder if I won’t let you in?”

He held up the goodies. “I have the key to your heart. And your stomach. The apple pie and caramel sauce. They’re irresistible. Like me.”

Chapter Fourteen

Ellen walked out of the kitchen just as Sadie and Quinn crossed the threshold into the apartment. She was licking a spoon in one hand and carrying a carton of Cherry Garcia ice cream in the other. “Where are you two coming from?” She stuck the spoon in the pint carton and held out her hand to shake. “I’m Ellen Lang. You must be Quinn. Nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand. “Club Lucky. Are we interrupting anything? Sadie mentioned you were meeting with your study group. Have you finished?”

Sadie took off her wedged sandals. Hanging onto the back straps, she swung them back and forth and dropped them next to her bike.

“So nice of you to ask.” Ellen gave Sadie a subtle grin of approval. “No meeting of the archeological minds here. We were at the library and finished early. You know, you look sort of familiar. Are you a model or something? On TV?”

Quinn laughed loudly. “No. Not at all.”

Sadie grabbed his hand and led him toward the kitchen. “Model? It must be your fancy pants. Or the dress shirt. Come on. Dessert is calling us.”

“Yeah, must be the clothes,” he called out as she dragged him into the kitchen.

“Have a good night, you two. I’m turning in with my Cherry,” Ellen said, then laughed and snorted. “I’m funny.”

Sadie rolled her eyes.

Quinn set the bags down on the counter and pulled out the slices of apple pie. Sadie leaned against the kitchen island. Quinn did look like some sort of model. Was he six four or six two? How could dress clothes make him look taller…and sexier?

She plated the pie. Then poured the caramel sauce in a small pot and put it on the gas top burner.

“Can I put the plates in the microwave?” Quinn said, standing beside her.

Sadie stirred the sauce, but with him so close, she almost lost grip of the spoon. “Ah, no. It’s still warm and the caramel will heat it up.”

“Smells delicious.” Quinn whispered in her ear. “Apple pie and hot caramel sauce. Thank you.”

She nodded. As the caramel scent of sweet butter filled the kitchen, her mouth watered. But it wasn’t the sugary smell that stirred her appetite. It was Quinn.

“Your hair will singe from standing too close to an open flame. Let me.” He stepped between her and the stove.

Taking the spoon from her, his hand touched hers. A jolt passed between them. She spied silver flecks in his eyes again. This time they reminded her of tiny twinkling stars. “I need some of George’s amazing buttery crust.”

“You picked at your dinner. You must be hungry.” After flicking off the burner, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.

Sadie noticed they were monogrammed. “Sort of. It was difficult to eat with that waitress Patrice hovering around our table.” She retrieved two forks and set them on the plates. “I think this is an occasion when dessert trumps dinner. It’s so worth it.”

“Try it.” Quinn touched her bottom lip with the caramel covered edge of the spoon. “Warm enough?”