The restaurant I booked is one of t

The restaurant I booked is one of the best for miles around, though there are a thousand great restaurants to choose from in New York. I have never eaten here or at any of those other restaurants, but I'm assuming it's good with two Zagat stars. Wilson just nodded approval when I suggested booking it. His mind was half on his screen and whatever report was on it at the time. I'm lucky he gave any sign at all. I normally wouldn't bother him with such trivia but those prices! There were going to be five people for dinner originally and now there are six. The bill will probably be enough to cover my rent for a year, but it feels like I deserve to be bought dinner. It probably doesn't cover saving his ass again.
Still it's not all joy—a place like this makes me nervous. It feels like the waiters are judging me and I'll need to find something easy to eat. I don't want to disgrace myself by using the wrong fork or picking up the lobster when I shouldn't. I'll just do whatever Wilson does and I should be okay. It's not quite the hamburger restaurant where we always went for birthday treats as I was growing up if there was money to spare that week. Maybe one birthday in three we actually made it there.
I'm helped into my chair by the waiter as if I couldn't manage to pull in a chair all by myself and Wilson sits beside me. We're early as planned.
“If I say the wrong thing, just kick me,” he says.
“I was going to do that at the meeting earlier if you fell asleep.”
“Not much chance of that. I just spent the whole time trying not to barf.”
“Are you okay now?”
“Yes fine. I had a cold shower to wake me up. I've never felt better.”
“Enough of a cold shower to stop you from hitting on the waitress?”
“Never stopped me before.”
“You're incorrigible.”
“Just as well you're here to keep me on the right track. Do you never make mistakes?”
“Plenty, but only ones you can't see and will never find out about.” Like falling for you. That's a bad one. The stupidest mistake of all.
“I'll have to be sure to catch you making one.”
“Trust me. You'll never catch me doing anything other than playing solitaire when I should be working. That's all I do, you know, except when you're walking right past me. My monitor has a sensor on it for when you're approaching.”
“Crap. You run that office single-handedly. And me. You saved me today. Seriously. Thanks for that.”
“You're welcome. Pay me back by never putting yourself in that position again.”
“I don't intend to.”
“Good. Now how are we going to play it tonight?” I want him to make a much better impression tonight. I’m sure he does too.
“You be bad and I'll be good.”
“Like good cop and bad cop?”
“No you can flirt with them. And I'll be all serious talking about the project.”
“You were born on the ark as far as woman are concerned, weren't you?”
“I'm afraid so.”
“You can't tell female employees to flirt with visiting businessmen.”
“Can't I? I thought I just did.”
“Well you did, but you're not supposed to.”
“Political correctness isn't my strong point.”
“You don't say. What if I flirt and one of them decides the flirting is for real?”
“I'll rescue you and whisk you away.”
“You know I think I'll handle it my way. I don't think you're a safe option, having seen you in action.” Except he's never been anything but a gentleman with me. But then again, I don't want him to be anything less than that, do I?
Our guests arrive and I am in charming hostess mode. If that's not flirty enough for Wilson, tough. It will have to do. After the initial greetings are done, the waiter asks if we would like something to drink. I choose a glass of wine. This might be a long night without it though the irony is not lost on me with me lecturing Wilson not to drink. But Wilson has already ordered straight club soda for himself. “Early day tomorrow,” he says.
A couple of the Japanese are not drinking either. They nod their approval. Mr. Kimura asks Wilson to tell him more about how the D2 project might take off and the respective roles of the two companies. Wilson has no trouble with this. I only have to listen and sip my wine.
We eat dinner. Every morsel of the terrine of duck confit with apple jelly, beef with wild mushroom and truffle gnocchi, and a caramel soufflé with banana ice-cream is to die for. And I get through dinner with no faux pas as far as I know.
Wilson agrees that he will take a trip to Japan to take things further and that there will be a further visit to look at the technology once the patent is in place. The dinner has gone well, and I have a warm glow of satisfaction about saving the meeting this afternoon.
No one wants a late night. After dinner, Wilson calls for a car to take our guests back to their hotel and once they are safely on their way, he calls Cameron to bring the limo around.
I'm dog tired. It has been a long day. I didn't realize how stressful the whole event was until right now, breathing a sigh of relief knowing we got through it by the skin of our teeth.