Wednesday night right at six Cam walked into the little Italian family restaurant. It was on the corner of the block and took up most of the ground floor of the entire structure. She scanned the clientele as she approached the hostess.
The hostess guided her to a small table where a young man was seated with his back to the wall. He looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties, close to Cam’s age. He had dark brown hair perfectly groomed. His suit looked like designer quality.
“Miss Andrews,” he said, standing to offer his hand. Cam shook it and sat opposite him. “I’m Blake Alexander. I’m very happy to meet you.” His style was very smooth. You could tell he knew how to get what he wanted. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a bottle of Merlot. It goes quite well with all Italian foo
