Quentin barely got his seatbelt in place before Carlos began moving the car. Carlos looked straight ahead, not even sparing him a glance. What was this guy's deal? He must mean something to Billie if he jumps the moment she calls to fulfill her request.

"Dude, would you quit staring at me?" Carlos said when they stopped for a traffic light. "You're freaking me out." His words and expression were deadpan as he turned to look at him. Quentin wished Carlos would remove those ridiculous shades so he could see his eyes.

"Are you in love with her?" Quentin asked, figuring he didn't have long in the car so he'd just cut to the chase.

Carlos grinned before turning his eyes back to the road. "Must really bust your chops to think she could love a guy like me, eh, Mr. Hoity-Toity?"

"Can't say I'd understand it, no. And you didn't answer my question." Quentin pointed out.

"Can't understand it? Why not? You think just because I'm a blue-collar worker, I'm not good enough for her?" Carlos smirked. "Ever consider that's why she likes me? Because she knows I'm a real man who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Who's capable of taking care of her. Not because she needs me to but because she wants me to?"

Quentin hadn't considered any of that and frankly didn't want to consider it either. The thought of Carlos and Billie together made him want to bang Carlos' head into the steering wheel, which he wouldn't do but it didn't stop him from thinking it.

"You're just upset because you caught that kiss on the balcony that happened a few minutes ago," Quentin taunted. He wasn't actually certain that Carlos had until he'd seen how Carlos' fingers gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Quentin knew Carlos wished those fingers were wrapped around his neck right now, but that's also when he observed something else.

"Besides as a married man you have no right to be messing around with her."

Carlos let out a hearty chuckle. "Damn, you're not as stupid as you look."

"Thank you?" Quentin said taken off guard by Carlos' response. Carlos laughed so hard he took off his shades to wipe his eyes that were tearing.

"Ms. Dupree and I are not an item, Suit. But I owe her, big time and I will hurt anyone who's stupid enough to hurt her. That's no joke." When Carlos stared him eye to eye, Quentin knew he meant every word of what he said.

"I can't make any promises. I like her. I want to get to know her if she'll let me, but people sometimes get hurt, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Carlos maneuvered his Jeep to pull up near the front of the restaurant and gave Quentin two words of advice. "Try harder."

Quentin nodded, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car. Carlos drove away, leaving Quentin with even more questions than he had before. So, Billie was being honest. Carlos and she are not involved but he's indebted to her somehow. Quentin wondered why that would be as he entered the restaurant.

Quentin always liked Balthazar's. He took a moment to appreciate the old-school Parisian charm of the place, with its huge mirrors, red leather banquettes, and wall of wine. It's possibly the most authentic French bistro/brassiere to be found on this side of the Atlantic. Both classy and casual but Quentin always felt it was more of a romantic spot to eat than a place for a business lunch.

He'd seen his father in conversation with Mr. Dupree and took a deep breath. This, him coming alone, was not going to go over well. "Mr. Dupree. Father." Quentin approached the table and took a seat.

"Quentin," Mr. Dupree smiled at first until he realized the obvious. "Billie? She's not with you?"

"No. She had something she needed to take care of. She said she might join us later but not to wait for her."

Mr. Durpre frowned as he stared at the entrance. "I see."

"She wasn't upset for any reason, was she, Son?" Mr. Harrison asked, with a look that said he knew more than he was letting on and it irked Quentin. He wanted to wipe that smug look off his father's face.

"No, Father. Why would you believe there'd be a reason for it?" Quentin asked giving his father a smirk of his own.

"Uh... no reason. No reason at all. I just knew you two kids were together and now you're here and she's not. I just hoped you didn't do anything to offend the girl."

"No. Actually, we got along quite well," Quentin said and both men reacted.

"How interesting," was all that Mr. Harrison said.

But Mr. Dupree smiled. "I'm glad to hear it, Quentin. My Billie can be a handful sometimes. I'm glad the two of you found some common ground."

Quentin ignored his father and spoke to Mr. Dupree. "She's an amazing woman, you raised. You must be very proud."

"I am, but I do wish she would learn to live life a little more. She is always all business. However, she wasn't always like that."

"Really, what changed?" Quentin asked eager to get this insider information.

"She changed, after her mother's passing. Billie used to love to laugh. She had her mother's zeal for living life, but she shut down after Gwendolyn's death. Became... subdued somehow."

Quentin could see this topic was depressing Mr. Dupree so changed it and perhaps offered him some hope. "Well, I found Ms. Dupree to be delightful. She is beautiful, smart, and has a fighter's spirit. I honestly can't say when I've enjoyed an outing more."

Mr. Dupree smiled. "Glad to hear she made such a good impression on you."

"She most certainly did," Quentin agreed.

"Is that so?"

Quentin looked back when two palms came to rest casually on his shoulders. Billie smiled down at him. Not the smile he loved, it was more guarded but he didn't care. She was here and that was all that mattered.

Quentin smiled back and pushed out his chair, causing Billie to take a few steps backward. He pulled out the chair beside him so she could sit. Quentin couldn't help but wonder if this meant that she was accepting his offer.

"Billie, sweetheart," her father leaned over, once Billie sat and she kissed her father's cheek. Mr. Dupree looked so relieved to see her.

Quentin helped her push in her chair and sat back in his own. "So, what made you choose Balthazar's, Mr. Dupree? I love this place. The food is amazing but I never considered it for a business lunch."

Mr. Dupree chuckled. "Honestly, I knew having a meeting without my daughter would put me in some hot water. I hoped to blackmail her into forgiving me by taking her to her favorite place to eat. We've been coming here since she was a little girl. It's our special place for whenever we wanted to have some father/daughter time together."

"Hmm... what to do when in trouble with Ms. Dupree. Thanks for the tip," Quentin said to Mr. Dupree and inquired of Billie, "So you're not flowers or jewelry kind of girl, then?"

"No, I'm more of a Steak Au Poivre, kind of girl," Billie informed him. "If a man is going to beg my forgiveness, then I prefer things raw, hot, and spicy. You know, something I can sink my teeth, into."

Between her words and the intensity of her gaze, as she spoke, Quentin squirmed a little in his seat. Billie had him so turned on at the moment and she hadn't laid a finger on him. She's the devil, Quentin thought, not understanding how this woman seemed so capable of manipulating his emotions as she does.

Watching their interaction. Mr. Harrison eyed the couple with avid interest. "You two disappeared for quite a while. What were you up to while we were having our meeting?" he asked as the server came over and filled up Billie and Quentin's glasses with wine.

Quentin not sure how to answer picked up his glass to take a sip, hoping to stall for time. Billie, however, didn't bat an eye at the impertinent question.

"Oh, you know the usual thing two young and attractive people would do together...we had sex."

Quentin spit out the wine that choked him when he gasped causing it to go straight into his lungs. His father, who was sitting in the banquette across from him having nowhere to run, caught the full brunt of the spray of red liquid.

The server immediately handed Mr. Harrison a napkin that he used to wipe off his face and then left to procure some club soda so Mr. Harrison could try to salvage his shirt.

Quentin continued to cough and sputter into his napkin, staring at Billie as if she had lost her mind. Yet, she looked perfectly at ease. Not at all as if she just said the most outlandish thing the three men at the table ever heard.

"Billie?!" her father admonished. "Why would you say such a thing?" Not believing for a moment it was true. He knew his daughter far too well for that.

"I'm sorry, Father. My poor attempt at a joke, I suppose."

Mr. Harrison glared daggers at her. "I do apologize, Mr. Harrison. When you have your shirt cleaned, you can send me the bill."

"This suit is over three thousand dollars, Ms. Dupree!" Mr. Harrison said livid, as he tried in vain to dab at it with the club soda that the server had brought back.

"And yet it will probably cost me less than $100.00 to clean. The economics of the situation can be quite baffling can it not?"

Quentin didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or duck and cover. He swore, stealing a glance at his father, that the man's head was about to explode.

"Billie!" Mr. Dupree again said her name like a stern reproach.

"I am sorry, Father. I did offer to pay to clean Mr. Harrison's clothes. It's not my fault his son choked on his wine. How could I know he's not capable of holding his liquor?"

"Me? I..." Quentin cleared his throat enough to sputter. He looked upon Billie astonished and Billie looked at him as complacent as could be with the smallest hint of a smile hidden at the corner of her mouth. She was messing with him. Hell, she was messing with all of them, but two could play that game.

"I did try," Quentin said when he had regained his composure.

"Which are you speaking of Mr. Harrison, holding back your liquor or having sex with me?"

"Which do you think I'm referring to, Ms. Dupree?" Quentin challenged.

"I'm pretty certain I know which, however, I do hope Mr. Harrison that wasn't your best effort you put forward."

Quentin's grin was downright predatory, and his eyes sparked with the excitement of the challenge she put before him. "Oh, no, Ms. Dupree of that you can be certain. Just testing the waters. You know... to find out if there was even an interest. So are you? Interested, Ms. Dupree?"

"Possibly, can't say I've made up my mind definitively on the subject yet?"

"Well then..." Quentin thought it ironic how he had Carlos' words echoing in his head right now, "I guess I must try harder, Ms. Dupree."

"Happy to know you're willing to put in the effort, Mr. Harrison. Speaks well of your character."

"Do you two mind?! Your fathers are sitting right HERE!!!" Mr. Dupree said not liking all the innuendos that were being flung around so carelessly. Not even innuendos. Quentin and his Billie were blatantly talking about having sex while at the table. What had gotten into his daughter? Mr. Dupree glared at Quentin, staring at him like he was some sort of hooligan, who was corrupting his innocent, sweet child.

Billie appeared, however, as if she was totally enjoying herself. Completely relaxed as she took a sip of wine and smiled into her glass.

"I think we are making them uncomfortable," Quentin leaned over to whisper into Billie's ear and her eyes widened like she hadn't thought of this. She puts her glass down and addressed both fathers. "I'm sorry are we making you uncomfortable?"

Both men looked at one another, neither sure how to answer.

"Well, in that case, I guess we should leave."

"Leave?" Quentin asked surprised. They just got there.

"Yes. I wouldn't want them not to enjoy their meal because of us, would you?" Billie asked standing up and pushing back her chair.

Quentin knew Billie was both figuratively and literally making a stand and stood with her, wanting to let her know he was most definitely on her side. "I guess we must. If you'll excuse us, gentlemen, we will leave you to your meal. Enjoy!" Quentin said placing a hand at the small of Billie's back to steer her away from the table.

Both men came to their senses a second too late, calling out their names in unison but by that time Quentin and Billie were out the door.

Once outside, Quentin looked at Billie with awe. "I can't believe I just spit French Bordeaux wine in my father's face."

"At $100 a glass, I'm pretty sure he can't believe it either." Billie laughed and it had a musical lilt to it. "Do you want to go for a ride?"

Quentin saw the shine in her eyes, the flush to her cheeks, she looked so vibrant and alive, entranced he could only answer, "Yes."

He got that smile again that one that makes his world a little brighter. She took his hand and walked with him to the garage where she parked her car and the attendant upon seeing her left his booth to retrieve it for her.

She paid for the parking and gave the man a generous tip before getting behind the wheel. Quentin joined her on the other side.

"And where, may I ask are you taking me?" 

"You ask too many questions. Just lean back and enjoy the ride," Billie instructed.

Grinning from ear to ear, Quentin knew better than to argue. He'd go wherever she wanted to take him.