Free Betrayal by John Lescroart

pretty enough to attract him—good-looking California-girl cheerleader—but now something in her style bespoke a worldliness and maturity that, frankly, intimidated him. Nolan’s style, and his plan for that matter, had been to tease her about her political leanings and beliefs, wear her down, get her laughing and eventually tipsy, bed her, and report back to Evan that he was lucky she hadn’t read his letters or written back—she wasn’t worth the trouble.
    Now, ten minutes of silence on the drive over pretty much shattered that plan. Try as he might, and as much as he might have wanted, he wasn’t going to be able to take her that lightly. It wasn’t just the bare fact of her substantial beauty, but a seriousness, a gravitas, that he couldn’t remember ever having encountered before in the women he’d known.
    Handing his keys to the valet in front of the restaurant, Nolan noticed that Tara remained seated, her hands clasped in her lap. A test? Would he be a chivalrous gentleman if he opened the door, or would that make him a chauvinist pig? He hadn’t worried about a social nicety like that in ten years, and now suddenly he badly wanted to make the right decision, to look good in her eyes. But his only option was to be who he was, and his parents had raised him to have old-fashioned manners, so he came around and got her door for her. She rewarded him with a small smile in which, inordinately pleased, he read approval.
    The tuxedoed maître d’ knew who she was, at least by looks. He greeted her familiarly, kissed her hand, nodded at Nolan with respect and perhaps a soupçon of envy, and led them to a private banquette in the back. Lighting in the place was dim, with pinpoint lights onto the tables to facilitate reading the menu. Tara ordered an Italian-sounding white wine he’d never heard of and he asked for a Beefeater martini up.
    The waiter left. Tara sipped her water. “I said I didn’t want to fight, but we’re allowed to talk if you want. If we don’t, it might get to be a long night.”
    “I’ve been trying to avoid sensitive subjects.”
    “Okay, but you haven’t said two words since my apartment.”
    “That’s because everything I thought of seemed risky.”
    “Like what?”
    Nolan hesitated, came out with it. “Like how lovely you look. See? I’ve offended you already.”
    “I’m not offended.”
    “I think you are. You frowned.”
    “I did?”
    “Definitely.”
    “I didn’t mean to frown. I’m not offended. It wasn’t an offended frown. I’m even flattered. Thank you.” She scratched at the napkin next to her plate. “I’m just not very comfortable with compliments, I suppose. Plus, I’m a little nervous. This might have been a mistake.”
    “What?”
    “You and me. Going out for dinner. It just sounded so good to go out and…” Sighing, she killed a moment with another sip of water. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
    “About what?”
    “About if this is a date. Like a boy/girl date.”
    “Okay, I’ll try not to get the wrong impression. What would be the right one?”
    “That it’s just dinner. Two people out at a restaurant together.”
    He smiled across at her. “As opposed to what? A romantic dinner?”
    “I guess. I wasn’t thinking this was going to be a romantic dinner. That’s probably why I frowned.”
    “Back to that, huh? You frowned because I said you were lovely, which means I’m romantically interested.”
    “Something like that, I suppose.”
    The waiter arrived with their drinks, and Nolan waited until he’d moved out of earshot, then sipped at his martini and picked up where they’d left off. “Okay,” he said, “I promise I’m trying not to be romantically interested. You’re the girlfriend of a pal of mine, so that would be awkward, except you said that you’re done with him.”
    “I think.”
    “Ah. A change in the story.”
    “No, not really. I just wasn’t thinking that I was going to go out with