“Okay.” Adam headed out of the kitchen and back into the reception area. “We can talk about it later. I’ll take you out for a drink after the interview. One of my favorite neighborhood bars is around the corner.”
“A drink?” Just what I need. Liquor to fog up my already questionable resolve.
“Yes. I know it falls outside the scope of going to work and going home, but I think you’ll enjoy yourself. We haven’t spent enough time together that wasn’t related to work.”
“We’ll still be talking about work. I think that counts.”
“Something tells me we’ll get around to other topics.”
Other topics. Melanie did not want to discuss her family or her love life. What else was there? The weather? She made a mental note to check the forecast online while Adam did the interview. Maybe she’d brush up on NBA scores, knowing that Adam followed the Knicks. Anything she could launch at him to steer the conversation toward the benign. If he brought up Julia, she wanted to be prepared to change the subject, pronto.
There was a knock at the door and a lanky man opened it. “I think I’m in the right place. I’m looking for Adam Langford.”
“Yes, you’re in the right place,” Melanie answered, smiling and rushing across the room to shake his hand. “Please. Come on in. I made coffee.”
Twelve
This was as close Adam could come to taking Melanie out on a date, at least while he was in a fake relationship with another woman. And at least while Melanie was dishing up roadblocks and mixed signals.
He opened the creaky, dark wood door of Flaherty’s Pub for her. “Ladies first.”
She grimaced, peering into the dimly lit bar. “Something tells me they aren’t going to want to make me a mojito in this place.”
“Sorry, Buttermilk. Nothing with a sugared rim, either.”
She pointed at him accusatorially, pursing her lips, but he caught a fraction of a smile. “You know how I feel about that nickname.”
He ushered her ahead. “I do, but the problem is it fits you so perfectly. A little sweet, a little sour. Most of the time I can’t think of anything better to call you.”
“Adam Langford, you’re lucky I need a drink so badly.”
His favorite watering hole in Manhattan was dark as could be—poor lighting, worn mahogany, deep maroon upholstery on the booths. A jukebox predating them both sat at the back. A few regulars were lined up at the bar. They’d probably spent their afternoon knocking back a cold one, preserving the lost art of conversation.
Melanie clutched her purse to her chest. “This isn’t what I imagined when you said you’d take me out for a drink.”
Adam shook his head, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Relax. Don’t you trust me? I’ve been sneaking in here since I was a teenager. I love it. It’s totally different from anywhere else I spend my time. My parents would be appalled if they knew about it.”
Jones, the gray-haired bartender, flipped a towel over his shoulder and nodded at Adam. “Look who’s here. The prodigal son returns.” Jones had long called him that, but he knew little about Adam’s background. He never asked, Adam never offered. Coming to Flaherty’s was time for throwing darts and leaving everything else behind.
Adam laughed and curved his hand at Melanie’s waist. “Come on,” he said quietly. As much as she looked out of her element, she did trust his taste enough to follow his lead across the room. Adam shook Jones’s hand. “How are you, my man? Business treating you right?”
Jones pushed his black-framed glasses up onto his nose. “I’ve got every microbrewery in the country trying to get me to sell their beer, but for the most part, I can’t complain.” He wiped a spot on the bar with a towel. “Where are your manners? Are you going to introduce me to the lovely lady you brought to my fine establishment?”
Adam nodded. One thing he loved about Flaherty’s was that nobody gave him a hard time about anything serious. There was no speculation about him or his character. They certainly wouldn’t know what was playing out in the tabloids. Jones, especially, was concerned with the sports page and not much else. Here he could be single Adam Langford and he could take Melanie out for a drink. “Yes, of course. This is Melanie Costello. Her office is about a block from here. I’m surprised you two haven’t run into each other.”
Melanie smiled, seeming to warm to her surroundings. “Probably just on different schedules.”