Set Up in SoHo (The Matchmaker Chronicles) by Dee Davis Page B

him since he was a puppy. Bentley belongs to you.”
    “You’re right. I just had a moment of weakness. I may have lost my boyfriend. But I’m not giving up my dog. Dillon can take a flying leap.”
    “Which is pretty much what we told him,” Clinton said. “So now you’ve just got to hold on to your guns. Or however it goes.”
    “I’m proud of you,” Bethany said, lifting her glass in salute.
    “This is just so damn hard.”
    “Which is exactly why you need a distraction,” Clinton said, his eyes narrowing in a way I knew meant that he was about to suggest something I wasn’t going to like. “I think you should go out with this McCay fellow.”
    “I told you, I’m not ready for that.”
    “Yes, well, you weren’t ready for a television show, either, and look how that’s turned out.”
    “Dating is a completely different thing,” I argued. “And in case you’ve forgotten, my track record isn’t all that great.”
    “And Ethan McCay isn’t Dillon,” Bethany said.
    “You don’t know that.”
    “Call him,” Clinton said, holding out the phone.
    “I can’t just call him.”
    “You’re right,” Bethany said, and I shot her a grateful smile. “You need fortification first.” She held out my wineglass. “Drink. Then call.”
    I shook my head, even as I dug Ethan’s card out of my pocket. “I can’t.”
    “Sure you can,” Clinton cajoled, “just press the little buttons. Technology is an amazing thing.”
    “That’s not funny,” I said with a glare.
    “Maybe just a little bit?” He smiled.
    “Honestly, this is a great idea,” Bethany said. “If for no other reason than because this is a small town and once the word gets out that you’re dating again, Dillon will know that you’ve moved on.”
    “But I don’t want to go on a date. And I don’t want to move on.” Except that I did—at least a little.
    “Yes, but what about revenge?” Clinton asked.
    “I got that when we dissed Mardi Gras.”
    “That was Diana,” Clinton said. “This is your chance to show Dillon that you honestly don’t care.”
    I drained the contents of my glass as Bethany held out the phone.
    “You really think I should do this?”
    “Yes,” they answered simultaneously.
    And so, as the slow burn of the wine spread through my chest, I dialed.
    The phone rang three times, and just as my thumb covered the button to disconnect, Ethan picked up.
    “Hello.”
    I swallowed, the butterflies in my stomach doing a mambo. “I, um, this is Andi Sevalas. You know, from the cellar.” Talk about stupid intros.
    “Yes,” he said, laughter lacing his tone. “I remember.”
    “I know. It’s just that, well, I was thinking, and, if you haven’t changed your…not that I’d blame you if you had, I mean, it would be perfectly understandable under the circumstances, but if you haven’t…” Clinton was making motions for me to breathe and I tried to comply, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember how.
    “You’d like to go out to dinner with me after all,” he thankfully finished for me.
    “Yes,” I answered breathlessly, feeling like an idiot. “I would.”
    “Great. How about Saturday?”
    I nodded, then realized he couldn’t hear me. “That’s perfect. Where?”
    “Nino’s. The one on First? At eight?”
    He had me at Nino’s. One of my favorite Italian restaurants, it might not have the buzz of some of its more nouveau competition, but what it didn’t have in gastronomical cutting edge it more than made up for in old-world ambience.
    “That would be great. I’ll meet you there.”
    “I think the way it’s normally done, I’m supposed to pick you up.” He still sounded amused, but for some reason the idea that he found me entertaining actually served to calm my jangling nerves.
    “You’ve been away from the city too long,” I said. “No one picks anyone up here. Besides, you’re all the way uptown. I’ll just meet you there.”
    There was a pause and then an audible laugh.