26. Dash
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DASH
One Week Later
Briefcase in hand, Dash followed the hostess through the main dining room of the landmark steakhouse to Miranda’s regular table, tucked inside a niche in the back corner.
The Blotto Grotto she liked to call it, as the walls within the nook housed hundreds of bottles of wine, floor to ceiling.
Ironic, actually, as Miranda wasn’t a wine drinker.
"You're late," she stated as Dash brushed her cheek with a kiss.
"But I’m always worth the wait.” He eyed the highball glass on the table in front of her. “You're indulging a little early. It's not even noon."
"Whiskey has no set time, honey."
A server appeared and took their order. With back-to-back meetings on his afternoon schedule, Dash played it safe and ordered sweet tea, heavy on the sweet. They engaged in the usual small talk until their meals were delivered. After two bites, he cut right to the chase.
"I need your help," he announced.
Miranda took a sip of her drink, then locked on his eyes. "You know, when your stepbrother needs a favor, he butters me up with a little trinket of some kind. Last time, it was a darling charm from James Avery." She held up her right arm and shook the bracelet on her wrist.
"That's because he won't give you what you really want." From his briefcase, he removed two packs of Dunhills from her favorite tobacco shop in Rice Village. He pushed them across the table with a sly smile.
"I'm listening." Miranda dropped the cigarettes into her enormous designer handbag.
"What are your thoughts on parties?"
"I never say no to a good party."
"How long would you need to plan one? A good one? In Chicago?" he asked.
"That depends. What type of party and for whom?"
"A Win Her Back party … for Natalie."
She raised an eyebrow. "You want to throw a party to try and win back a woman who told you she moved on from you a few days ago?"
"It’s a gamble, I know, but I have full faith you can help me pull it off." He rummaged around in his briefcase and removed several items. "Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while. First-class travel, five-star hotel, limo-service on demand. I'll even throw in a new frock."
"Dash, honey, you can't be serious?" she said, gently touching his arm.
He’d never been more serious. When Colt suggested tricking Natalie into planning a party where she’d be guest of honor, Dash immediately shot it down.
“Too outrageous, even for me,” he’d told his stepbrother.
But the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.
It played directly to Mr. Crown’s character.
After running the idea past Kate (who helped him concoct the perfect plan, even going so far as to recruit Noah and get Foster’s approval), he went all in.
He pushed a piece of paper in front of Miranda, then tapped the first printed line.
"Call this number tonight. Ask for Noah.
He's expecting your call and will fill you in on all the details. His running point on this deal, not me. Whatever he says, goes. I had my travel agent book your flight, first-class, round trip. You’re staying at your favorite hotel and have carte blanche on room service. "
Miranda pushed her glasses up on her nose and inspected the page. “First-class? Room service? So far, so good. Continue.”
Dash dropped a business card next. "A man named Vonn from Celebrity Chauffeurs will be your driver. He'll be waiting for you at O'Hare and will be on call for you twenty-four-seven. Call him anytime.”
“My own driver? For a two-night stay? My goodness, you are serious.”
“You’ll have your business meeting at that one restaurant you’ve been dying to try.”
Miranda’s eyebrow arched a second time. “Babette? You got us a table at Babette?”
“Don’t ask me how, but I did and it’s done. The reservation is under your name, but they have my credit card on file, so you and Natalie order whatever you like. I’ve heard their pork loin with plums and polenta is fantastic."
He placed a menu from the upscale Chicago eatery on top of the stack.
"Or you could just call her," she suggested.
"Where's the fun in that?"
"I know impetuous is your middle name, but I think you're playing a little beyond the fray here. This is too bold, hon, even by your standards."
"You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take. And it's headstrong."
"What's headstrong?" she asked.
"My middle name, same as yours."
Dash smiled and raised his glass. Miranda did the same. Together they toasted their plan.