All or Nothing. Debbi Rawlins

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      “I’ll have the same,” she said, surprising him.

      “I thought you were more the wine type,” he said when the waitress had left.

      “Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”

      “Me? A good ole boy from Texas. Bite your tongue.” He pushed the bottle and glass toward her, belatedly remembering that as a big-shot producer he probably should’ve ordered wine. “Be my guest. I can wait.”

      “Tell you what…” She topped off the foaming glass and then handed it to him. “We’ll split it.” And then she tipped the bottle to her lips.

      Chase grinned. This was his kind of woman. “I would’ve taken the bottle.”

      She smiled back. “Beat you to it.”

      Moisture clung to her pale pink lips, making them glisten. Or maybe she’d done something to them. Used some tinted gloss maybe, but nothing much. Altering perfection would be a crime. He’d have to arrest her. Take her back to his room in handcuffs. Secure her to the bedposts to make sure she didn’t get away.

      His slacks suddenly got uncomfortably snug and he shifted positions. Damn, he had to stay on track. Too easy to forget why he’d asked her to dinner. He took a cool sip and leaned back. “Tell me about this friend of yours. The one who wants to pack it in and go home.”

      She looked startled, and then shrugged a slim shoulder. “Kelly’s amazingly talented. She dances, sings, acts.”

      He knew that name. She was a hotel employee. The assistant concierge, maybe? He kept an impassive face, mentally filing away the name. “Has she worked on Broadway?”

      “She’s had a few roles. Mostly small ones, but one of the plays she did lasted for nearly a year. It’s just not easy getting cast. I don’t have to tell you that it’s a cutthroat business.”

      “Yep, a lot of money at stake.”

      She tilted her head to the side and studied him in a way that made him nervous. Like she was going to ask him a question he didn’t know how to answer. “What made you decide to get involved in show business?”

      “Good question.” He frowned thoughtfully, pretending to give the matter serious consideration. “I’m afraid I don’t have a very noble answer.”

      “Fame and money is a given.”

      “This industry is fickle. Profit isn’t a guarantee. It could cost you big-time.”

      “True.”

      The waitress returned with Dana’s beer and asked to take their orders. But neither of them had looked at the menu yet. As soon as the woman left to check on another table, Chase picked up his menu hoping Dana would forget the nature of their conversation.

      “Come on. Now I’m curious.”

      He stupidly hadn’t anticipated the question, but he’d learned doing undercover work that sticking as close to the truth as possible reduced your risk of exposure. “I was bored.”

      “Ah. The curse of the idle rich.”

      “Now, now, darlin’. You know boredom isn’t only a rich man’s affliction.”

      “Okay, you’re right.” Her lips curved in a cheeky smile. “They just get to be bored without worrying about paying the mortgage.”

      “Touché.”

      “At least you’re honest,” she said, picking up her menu.

      He flinched and quickly directed his attention to the list of entrées. Maybe dinner hadn’t been such a good idea. No, this was a good opportunity. As long as he retained control of the conversation.

      Nothing on the menu was too pricey, particularly by Manhattan standards. He liked that she’d chosen this place even though she thought he had deep pockets. “Any recommendations?”

      “Everything is good.” She closed her menu and set it aside.

      “What are you having?”

      “Blackened chicken salad.”

      Should’ve known she was one of those salad kind of gals, low-fat dressing on the side, no doubt. Why it disappointed him he couldn’t say. Him, he was a having a great big porterhouse steak.

      As soon as he closed his menu the waitress appeared again and took their order. He asked for another beer, but Dana declined. A smarter man would’ve followed her lead. He had to meet her at ten tomorrow and run another five miles. Although, if he got enough information tonight, there really would be no reason to see her.

      Their eyes met, hers so beautiful his groin stirred. Who was he kidding? No way he’d pass up a chance to see her again. He smiled and went for his beer.

      “How’s your side?”

      “Better.”

      “How did you say you hurt it?”

      “A man can humble himself only so much in one night.”

      She smiled. “Must be a pretty juicy story.”

      He wouldn’t call it that. But he couldn’t very well admit he’d been part of an undercover sting that had gone bad. One that might have shot his career to hell and back.

      Focus. He couldn’t start replaying that old tape. Might as well call it a night if his mind had started going to that bad neighborhood. “Let’s get back to your friend. She has a résumé and portfolio, I presume.”

      At his abruptness, Dana blinked. “Sure.”

      “Okay.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “After my meeting tomorrow I’ll know more about how close I am to sealing this deal.”

      “Great.” Dana seemed nervous suddenly, her hand trembling slightly as she picked up her bottle of beer. “If it works out for you and you’d like to talk to my friend, I could arrange for the two of you to meet.”

      “You sound more like her agent.”

      She smiled. “She’s had a tough go of it lately, and I hate to see her give up.”

      A loud group of six sat at the table next to them, the three guys arguing over yesterday’s Mets’ game and sounding as if they’d already been partying half the afternoon.

      Chase leaned across the table toward Dana. Her lips were really something, full and pouty, but natural-looking. “What about you?”

      “What about me?” she asked warily.

      “Aren’t you interested?”

      She hesitated. “That phase of my life is over. I’ve moved on.”

      “That’s a shame,” he said, relieved because he didn’t have to feel like a jerk for getting her hopes up.

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