As he walked behind her down the steps into the small restaurant, Ryan’s delight at being asked out by an attractive woman, one of the most accomplished he had ever encountered, was replaced by the perplexing question of why, prompted by her stated insistence on paying for the play, the taxi, the dinner. He hoped she was motivated by attraction rather than for some commercial reason.

The maitre d’ bowed as they entered. “So nice to see you again, Miss Hancock” he said to Nicky, his eyes playing for a moment too long on Ryan. He led them to a small table for two at rear of the restaurant. “May I get you something from the bar?”

“A bottle of Rioja. White. Could you get us an order of Chorizos and a plate of those wonderful Spanish potatoes while we’re looking at the menu.”

He bowed to her and went through the swinging door into the kitchen, came out a moment later going to the small bar near the entrance.”

“I suppose you know what’s good here. What do you recommend?”

“I love their shrimp in green sauce. They serve it with rice. That’s what I’m having.”

“Somehow I don’t find a green sauce appealing. I know I abhor green beer on St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Don’t worry; the green sauce doesn’t have green dye in it. The color comes from the parsley in the recipe. If you order something else, I’ll give you a taste of mine, and you’ll be sorry you didn’t get the green sauce.”

“Sold. I’ll have white wine and shrimp in green sauce. Should I order my own bottle of wine or are we sharing.”