Paul entered the lobby, searching for Emma. He grinned at his luck when he saw her at the front desk giving out taxi instructions to a guest. “Emma.” She turned, and was reminded of how handsome he looked. “Please join me for lunch. I feel bad for abruptly leaving you last night.”
“No, Paul. I’m sorry but I have a lot to do.” She barely looked up from the papers she was holding.
He laughed, and gently took her arm, leading her away from the desk. He leaned into her and in a low voice, spoke into her ear. “Please. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“Ok, but if you get up and leave me again, consider it our last meal together.” She shook her arm free, and led them to one of the many restaurants in the hotel. It was called Habichuela meaning bean in Spanish, and was the place where she and Gloria ate almost every day. Fernando was one of the finest chefs in the city. “Do you like Mexican food, Paul? I mean good Mexican, not like the stuff they have up north.”
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