Chapter Eleven
Dorrian chose the place for lunch. It was a little café that specialized in gourmet cheeses and wine. It was the kind of pretentious foodie place that Joe would hate, but Dorrian was perfectly at ease there. He ordered them a bottle of French wine and a platter of assorted cheeses with figs, marionberries, and a crusty, fresh baked baguette.
“Tell me something, Sierra,” he said as he spread rosemary chevre on a piece of bread. “You seem like a sophisticated, metropolitan woman. Am I right?”
“I suppose so,” Sierra replied cautiously.
“I’m curious about your relationship with Governor Joe. A man whose reputation is built on his appeal to the rough and tumble, everyman demographic. He hunts and camps and gets his hands dirty. What on earth do you have in common?”
Sierra s
