not savoring those,” I commented, sitting down next to her.
“Well, Chef Bennet’s not eight months pregnant and in a constant state of freakishly ravenous hunger.”
I chuckled at the idea of the head chef with a big pregnancy belly. “Nice shoes,” I said, nodding to her sneakers.
“Oh, these old things?” she asked, raising them slightly off the table. “Don’t worry – they’re not what I’m planning on wearing tonight.”
“You want to wear ‘em, I won’t judge. Comfy shoes are all I’ve been able to think about since I put these on.” I reached down and gave my ink-black, glossy heels a tap. “They might look good, but my feet feel like they’re about to explode out of them.”
Annie laughed as she tossed a piece of bruschetta into her mouth. “Wait until you’re pregnant as I am,” she said. “You know the thing they say about your feet swelling? It’s no joke – every pair of shoes feels like the ones you just had to buy even though they’re not your size. I’m half-thinking about getting Duncan to carry me around for the night.”
“Me next,” I said. “My legs are killing me.”
Then, as if right on cue, the man himself stepped through the outdoor entrance. Dr. Duncan Pitt was just as striking as ever, dressed in a fitted tux, a coal-black overcoat on over top. He slipped the coat off with a smooth, fluid motion, draping it over his big arm as he locked those striking blue eyes on his wife.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” he said, leaning down and planting a kiss on her lips. Then a thoughtful expression formed on his face. “Hmm…you’ve never tasted so good. Almost like kebab.”
“You can thank Chef Bennet for that,” I said. “He’s keeping Annie good and full.”
“And that’s just the way I like her,” he said with a charming smirk. “Believe me – you don’t want to see her when she’s hungry.”
She laughed, giving Duncan a swat on the leg. “Hey, when you’ve got a tiny human inside you screaming for food all day, you tell me how you like it.”
Duncan laughed, and I couldn’t help but watch the two, both of them totally in love and the picture of perfect couple-dom. As happy as I was with my life, part of me wondered if I’d ever have anything like that they had. My dating life was in such dire straits that if it were a person, even a doctor as skilled as Duncan would have trouble bringing it back to life.
“Place looks amazing,” Duncan admired, standing up and glancing around the event hall. “I think we’re set up for a hell of a night.”
“To be fair, when you’re working with a venue as gorgeous as this, it does a lot of the heavy lifting.”
“No selling yourself short in my company,” he admonished. “I hired you because you’re the best in town.”
I grinned. “I’ll take that compliment.”
I glanced at Annie, noting the strange expression on her face, one that seemed to suggest she had something she wanted to bring up, but wasn’t sure how it’d go over.
“Babe,” she said, setting her plate down on the table. “Speaking of tonight…”
Duncan’s eyes flashed as he remembered something. “Gia, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“The auction…is it too late to add someone to the lineup?”
I grimaced, somewhat playfully, somewhat truthfully. “Well, you know I don’t like last-minute changes…”
“And I appreciate that,” he said. “I’d only suggest it if I thought he’d be a solid addition."
“Hmm,” I said, giving the matter some consideration. “I mean, more bachelors to auction off means more money for charity. And if he gets the Duncan Pitt stamp of approval, I’m willing to at least give him a shot.”
“Perfect,” Duncan said, clasping his big hands together. “He’s backstage right now. Mind coming with me to meet him?”
“Not at all,” I replied .
Annie plopped her feet onto the ground and heaved herself out of her seat, and Duncan quickly offered his arm to help her up. “You guys do that, and I’m going to go see if Chef Bennet can top me off.” Plate in hand, Annie waddled toward the kitchen.
“You look lovely, by the way,” Duncan complimented as we headed backstage.
“Why, thank you, Dr. Pitt,” I smiled. “But I hope this isn’t your way of buttering me up so I let your friend take part. I like to think I’m immune to flattery.”
He chuckled. “Not at all – I said it because you do. And trust me, once you see