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“Yeah, well, the birthday boy’s got a thing for French dip sand- wiches. This is the closest I could get while still counting it as cocktail- party-friendly finger food.”
Kennedy froze. She knew his favorite food?
Kate picked up a roll, then pointed at one of the bowls of sauces. “Is that the extra-hot horseradish or regular?”
“One on the left is hot; right is regular. The little signs labeling them had a Chardonnay-related incident. Someone’s getting replace- ment cards now.”
“Perfect,” Kate said, dolloping a small scoop of the sauce on the right onto her plate. “Regular for me. Who needs the assault on the senses with the hot stuff?”
“It wakes you up,” Kennedy said.
Kate looked over her shoulder, not looking the least bit rattled by his presence as she sucked a bit of sauce off her thumb. “Oh. Hey. What wakes you up?”
He nodded at the dishes. “The extra-hot horseradish sauce.”
“Oh, right. The devil sauce,” she said, taking a napkin off the table. “Listen, Kate, I—”
“Kennedy! There you are!” He turned toward the interruption and
saw Claudia coming his way, dressed in a short navy dress that showed an impressive look at her long legs. He’d thought the dress slightly over- kill when he’d thought they were just going to an early dinner with her parents, but it made sense for a party at a trendy rooftop bar.
Strange that a brief glimpse at a sliver of Kate’s thigh resonated with him more than the near entirety of his girlfriend’s legs.