Читать книгу A Pretend Proposal: The Fiancée Fiasco / Faking It to Making It / The Wedding Must Go On - Элли Блейк, Ally Blake - Страница 13

THEY talked throughout their meal about the inconsequential things that ultimately helped people get to know one another. Little by little, more of the true Elizabeth Morris emerged. As Thomas already had surmised, there was far more to her than first met the eye. And he wasn’t completely comfortable with the woman now seated across from him.

He’d meant it when he’d said earlier that he had the feeling she was perfect. Not just for the role he wanted her to play, either. She was funny, interesting and smart, definitely. And he knew from that kiss that, under different circumstances, he wouldn’t mind pursuing a more intimate relationship with her. But that would have to wait, assuming she felt the same way. Right now it was business. Even if it also came with a few perks, he decided, as his gaze slid to her mouth. As long as they were on the same page, he might as well as enjoy them.

He rounded up the last morsel of chicken on his plate and grinned in satisfaction when it stayed between his chopsticks. After eating it, he motioned across the room. “Tell me about that picture on your refrigerator door.”

She glanced over. Amusement was apparent in her eyes and her voice when she replied, “The one of Mel and me shrieking like a pair of loons?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m a roller-coaster junkie,” she admitted, reaching up to adjust the band that held her hair back from her face. “I’m guessing that comes as a surprise to you, too.”

“Guilty.” While he would have pictured her holding on for dear life as the car crested the summit and plunged over, he saw proof to the contrary affixed to the refrigerator. The photo of her and the young woman he’d met at Literacy Liaisons showed Elizabeth in the front seat of the first car, slim arms waving over her head, a delighted grin flashing over her face.

“Well, I am. The steeper, the faster, the more winding the better.” She said it with pride and just a little defiance.

“When and where was that taken?”

“Last summer. Mel and I took some of our younger clients on a field trip to an amusement park in Ohio,” she told him. “That particular coaster was new and billed as the highest and fastest one in the Midwest. Mel dared me to go on it and take that first plunge hands-free.” Now her smile was every bit as smug as it was nostalgic.

“Can’t turn down a dare?” His mouth began to water. He blamed it on the spices that were still making his tongue sting.

“Sure I can. But not one where I know I can do it.”

“Dang.” He snapped his fingers in mock dismay. “Another one of my misconceptions busted.”

“Besides, there was an ice-cream cone riding on my saying yes.”

“Ice cream. I like ice cream.” His gaze was on her mouth and his own was watering again. This time, there was no denying the exact cause.

“Who doesn’t?”

“What flavor do you prefer?”

“Vanilla.” Elizabeth cocked her head to one side. “Before you condemn me for being boring—”

“Never.” He meant it. He was finding her way too enchanting to be bored.

“Good.” She offered a quick smile before continuing. “Vanilla is my favorite because it’s the most versatile flavor of ice cream out there. As such, it offers one a chance to get creative.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way before,” he replied truthfully.

“Most people haven’t, but they should. Buy a half gallon of vanilla ice cream and you can add whatever you want and create the exact flavor you’re after.”

“Practical,” he agreed.

Her frown told him she didn’t quite care for the description, even before she said, “I prefer to think of it as being flexible, maybe even a little imaginative. Add fresh strawberries, chocolate syrup, caramel, peanuts, what have you and you’ve crafted a new flavor.”

“The possibilities are endless.” Suddenly, he was seeing vanilla in a whole new light, just as he’d already begun to see Elizabeth differently.

They chatted about coasters and ice cream for the remainder of their meal. When they finished eating, he helped her carry their dishes to the sink. She tried to shoo him back to his seat.

“There’s no need. Really. You’re my guest.”

“Actually, I’m your fiancé, remember?” He chose not to ponder how easily the word rolled off his tongue. “My grandmother was a stickler when it came to household chores. From the first day she came to live with us, she drilled into me the importance of cleaning up after myself.”

“Smart woman.”

He nodded. “That bit of instruction has served me well. I may be a bachelor, but my house isn’t a pigsty.”

Her brows rose. “Cleaning lady?”

“Well, yeah. But she only comes every other week.”

Elizabeth grinned as she finished rinsing off their plates and stacking them on the counter next to the sink. Afterward, she turned toward him, her expression both innocent and beguiling when she asked, “So, now what?”

Now, there was a question. Usually after dinner with a woman one of two things happened. If it was early in a relationship, they engaged in prolonged foreplay. If they’d been dating awhile and were mutually agreeable, they skipped all pretense and headed to the nearest bedroom. Maybe it was just as well that Elizabeth’s was currently occupied with one very large and not so friendly canine.

He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t quite nine. The last time he’d ended an evening out with a member of the opposite sex this early, he’d been a teenager with a curfew. Besides, they had barely scratched the surface. He didn’t know nearly enough about Elizabeth to satisfy either his grandmother’s or his own curiosity.

“I’m eager to hear more revelations. What other dark secrets are you hiding?” He said it in jest, but for a second she looked … guilty?

He must have imagined it, he decided. Because a moment later she was grinning gamely when she announced, “Well, I like to play poker.”

“Poker?”

“It’s not like I’m a contender for one of those televised tournaments where the stakes are huge or anything, but I enjoy the game.” She rinsed out their glasses. “More water?”

“After that revelation, I think I could use a glass of that wine you offered me earlier.”

He uncorked the bottle while she got out a couple of what appeared to be handblown goblets.

“Fancy,” he commented as he poured.

“They were a gift from a client, one of our first. Cassidy McClurg. She’s on track now to earn her sommelier certification. Her dream is to work someday at a top New York restaurant. I think she’s well on her way”

“To Literacy Liaisons and changing lives.” He handed Elizabeth one of the glasses and then clinked his against it.

They adjourned to her small livingroom then. Since the windows were open, he could hear the crickets chirping outside and sundry other noises associated with nightfall in a neighborhood. He missed those sounds now that his windows were always closed with the central air-conditioning humming.

Like the kitchen, the room needed updating. The carpet, a nondescript brown color, was faded in places with well-worn paths from the postage-stamp-sized foyer to the kitchen and the hallway that led to the bedrooms. But the place was tidy. And homey thanks to all of the little touches that, quite frankly, were lacking in the sprawling house he’d lived in for more than half a decade.

He settled into the recliner after Elizabeth sat on the love seat. Their positions made for easier conversation. That’s what he told himself anyway, since the empty cushion next to her looked way too inviting.

“Let’s get back to you and poker.”

It turned out she played mainly at charity fundraising events and had never been to any of Michigan’s American Indian tribe-run casinos, let alone the huge gambling venues found in Las Vegas. But she knew the difference between a full house and a straight and, given that serene, guileless expression of hers, he’d bet she was a pro at bluffing.

Still, she threw him for a loop when she added, “Mel, a couple other friends and I have been getting together about once a month for the past couple years. We play for bragging rights mostly.”

A bunch of women playing poker on a regular basis? “Please tell me you don’t sit around smoking cigars and talking sports, too?”

Amusement shimmered in her eyes. “Sports, sometimes. If it’s college football season, Mel and I usually have a side bet going. She went to State like me, but she’s still a Wolverine fan. Family tradition.”

“I’m surprised her family didn’t toss her from the fold when she decided to attend State then,” he teased.

“She had a full-ride scholarship. It was kind of hard for her parents to be upset with her choice in universities when they didn’t have to pick up the tab for a Big Ten school’s tuition.” Elizabeth shrugged. “Not that my scholarship stopped my parents from being upset.”

“You had a full-ride scholarship to State and they were unhappy about it?” he asked incredulously.

“Not exactly a full ride, but enough that I was able to afford my four years there when supplemented with student loans. My parents’ objections were more … generalized.” She shook her head. Before he could ask what she meant by that, Elizabeth said, “Back to Mel, she chose State because it has a strong program in her field of study.”

“Which was?”

“Package engineering.”

“So, she went from designing the packaging for products to vetting literacy volunteers?” He scratched his chin, not quite able to connect the dots. “I’m not seeing the correlation between the two professions.”

“That’s because there is none. Mel was great at her job and made a lot of money at it, but she didn’t like what she was doing or where she was doing it.” Before he could ask, Elizabeth supplied, “San Francisco.”

“Yeah,” he replied dryly. “I can see how living in the ‘City by the Bay’ would be a real downer, especially in the middle of winter when we’re buried in snow here.”

Elizabeth laughed. The sound was lyrical and the way her face lit was, well … he liked it. A lot.

“She didn’t miss Michigan’s weather, Mr. Smarty Pants. She missed the people here.”

“Mr. Smarty Pants?” he repeated with brows raised.

Thomas couldn’t recall a single woman who had ever referred to him as such. Well, except for his grandmother. The young women of his acquaintance had other, far more flattering pet names for him. Names that usually couldn’t be repeated in polite company since they had to do with things that had occurred behind closed bedroom doors. Those names had helped stroke his ego. Yet he found himself more amused than offended by Elizabeth’s assessment. Her engaging grin probably had something to do with it.

“You think you have all the answers.” The charge was leveled too lightly to be an accusation.

“Do I now?”

“Just an observation.” She shrugged and reached for the wineglass she’d set on the coffee table.

“My guess is you were one of the things your friend missed about Michigan.”

“Well, we are BFFs.” Elizabeth smiled fondly.

That had come through loud and clear when he’d been introduced. As had her friend’s protectiveness. She might be as petite as Elizabeth, but Thomas got the feeling she would cheerfully scratch out his eyes if she thought he’d hurt Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was saying, “Long story short, she ditched a lucrative career in the corporate world for something she finds more personally satisfying.”

“Now she uses her power for good,” he teased.

“More like for the greater good.”

“I’d say it worked out for both of you, then. Does she, um, know about our arrangement?”

“Yes. BFFs, remember?”

“Right.”

Elizabeth nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully for a second. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Thomas lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Because he felt the need to remind himself, he told her, “That’s whole the point of this evening, Elizabeth. We’re supposed to be getting to know one another. So, ask away.”

“Do you … are you …? It’s just that Mel is very …” She let out a bemused laugh and readjusted her headband. Before it was back in place, blond hair cascaded about her face. He liked it better that way. “This is really awkward.”

Which made Thomas all the more intrigued. “Why don’t you say it fast, like pulling off a bandage?”

“Okay.” But she still took a moment during which she sucked in a deep breath. “It’s just that, to me at least, Mel seems more your type. Yet, when you met her earlier today, you didn’t pay very much attention to her.”

More his type? Hmm. Thomas supposed that, except for her petite stature, Mel Sutton was in league with the sort of women he tended to date. At least her physical appearance. She was sexy and beautiful. Oddly enough, he hadn’t been attracted to her. And even if he had been, since he’d gone to Literacy Liaisons to see Elizabeth, his pseudofiancée, it would have been impolite to openly ogle her friend.

“I didn’t mean to offend her,” he began.

Elizabeth shook her head. The band loosened again. “You didn’t offend her. I was just surprised that, well, that you didn’t—”

She stopped abruptly. Thomas had a feeling he knew why. Now, he was a little offended. “That I didn’t what, Elizabeth? Hit on her?”

“Well, no.” She moistened her lips, readjusted her headband again.

He was tempted to pull it off completely. He didn’t care for the prim look. He liked her hair better loose so that, if he wanted to, he could run his fingers through it.

“Then what?”

“Okay. I did think that maybe you would … hit on her, to use your term. And, quite frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

Oh, he was definitely offended. “Because I’m a lecherous pig.”

She blinked at his bald statement. “No! It’s just that Mel’s gorgeous.”

“So?”

On a frown, she asked, “Are you going to sit there and tell me you didn’t notice?”

“No. I’m not blind, so, sure I noticed, just like I would notice a gorgeous sunset or a stunning piece of artwork. I appreciate beauty in all things. Everyone does. That’s human nature. But I am capable of some restraint, you know,” he finished dryly.

He thought that would be the end of it. Subject closed. It wasn’t.

Chin notched up, Elizabeth declared, “Just so you know, Mel is every bit as pretty on the inside as she is on the outside. She’s not merely an attractive package.”

“Even if she is a packaging engineer.”

His attempt at a joke fell miserably flat.

“Mel is smart and funny and generous, not that most men ever figure that out or even bother to try.”

Her vehement defense of her best friend might have been touching if it hadn’t also highlighted Elizabeth’s own insecurities.

“So are you … every bit as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside, from what I can tell.” Indeed, the more he saw, the more he liked. And the more attractive he found her to be.

That disturbed him a little. What was it his dad had said just prior to going on one of his drunken binges? That he’d fallen in love with Thomas’s mother not in spite of her quirks and imperfections, but because of them.

Elizabeth was quick to disagree with his assessment. “I’m not pretty. I’m not ugly or anything, but …” She fiddled with the headband again. “I’m rather plain.”

“Plain?” Did she really think so? With that lush mouth and those rich, dark eyes? Not a chance. He might be out of line, but he reached over and tugged the headband free, tossing it on the coffee table like a gauntlet. A cascade of satiny tresses fell forward, all but obscuring her face before he pushed them back. “From where I’m sitting you’re very pretty,” he challenged.

A blush stained her cheeks as she fiddled with the stem of her wineglass.

It had been a long time since Thomas had been around a woman who became flustered from a simple compliment. “By the way, Elizabeth …?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not most men.”