Tinsel Town (3 page)
“Two thirteen.” The numbers eked out on a tight breath.
“Hello, Ms. Frazier.”
His voice was, as usual, smooth, dark, and stunningly erotic. Licking her lips, she shook her head and looked around the deserted hallway.
“Um, yes, hello. I, uh, can I help you?”
He sent her a smile that did unspeakably wicked things to her insides. “Actually, I was under the impression that I was here to help you.”
No…oh, good Lord, no! He couldn’t be. There was just no way. Fate couldn’t possibly be that perverse. But as she stared at him, she saw his dazzling gray eyes looking her over in a way that could only be described as curious and vaguely smug. Oh, yes, Fate was having a really good laugh right about now.
“Clive Thibodaux,” he said, and extended his hand.
She tried to speak, she really did, but nothing came out as she slid her palm into his. He held her perfectly still with his gaze while gallantly lifting her hand up to his mouth and brushing her knuckles with his lips. She supposed the gesture was meant to be sweet, even old-fashioned, but the small nip of his teeth on her tender skin made it something more.
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“Kate,” she managed to say.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He released her hand and gave the purse in her fist a pointed look. “Are you ready to go?”
Trying desperately to gain control of her reason, Kate gave a quick nod of her head, then a sudden shake. “My coat.”
He stepped inside before she could stop him. Was he going to make a move now? She couldn’t decide if she wanted him to or not. He reached toward her, his dark suit jacket riding slightly up at his wrists. This close, she could smell him, the sensual scent of male and a deeper, muskier tone that she’d not encountered before. His pulse beat like a steady drum, the strong line of his jaw enticingly taut. Without conscious thought, she lowered her eyelids and slackened her lips in anticipation. Then, to her confused disappointment, he reached behind her and pulled up her black dress coat. Without a word, he slipped her into the soft confines, then gently wrapped the matching scarf around her neck.
“You look lovely,” he said with a smile. A killer smile, one with two deep, matching dimples on either side of his mouth.
“I…thank you.” And didn’t she sound like the conversationalist? At this rate, she’d be blubbering like a moron through her appetizer.
He paused and looked down at her, his eyes sure and steady. “I surprised you. I guess you didn’t expect your neighbor to be your date.”
“I, uh, no, no, I didn’t. I guess I was just expecting…”
“Richard Gere? Or maybe a college boy with a fake tan and perfect teeth?” The smile flashed again, and her heart did a little jig. “I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”
Disappoint? Was he joking? “No, not at all.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” He offered her his arm and a quick little wink. “Your carriage awaits, my lady.”
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She couldn’t stop the tilt of her lips or the little laugh that escaped. Even if she was going to call this whole charade off, at least she would have a nice meal with a good-looking man, one who was apparently more charming than ten men had a right to be. Taking his arm, she let him lead her out of her apartment with her wobbly legs and dancing nerves tightly under control.
* * * * * *
He gazed at her over the top of his menu. “I hope you like Italian.”
Her lush lips lifted into a sardonic smile. “You know I do. I’m sure it was in my file.”
He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Actually, I didn’t read past your name or what you needed an escort for. I think getting to know a woman by watching her, listening to her, paying attention to the things she does, is more important than what’s put down on a sheet of paper.”
She blushed gently, a warm color that suffused her soft skin. “You certainly know how to put a girl in her place, Mr. Thibodaux.”
He supposed he did, but damn it, that’s not at all what he’d intended. Her little comment pricked his usually cool temper. “Look, Ms. Frazier…do you mind if I call you Kate?” When she shook her head, he continued. “Kate, I’m not the kind of escort who reads a woman’s file. I like to get to know her through the things she tells me, verbally and otherwise. It’s much more pleasurable.”
“Even when you only have a night with them?”
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Well, she had him there. He took a deep breath and decided to go with his own personal experiences to answer. “To be honest, Kate, I don’t have a lot of one-night dates.”
Her features suddenly lit up, a look he saw on his students when they’d finally understood a particular issue. “So you’re the one they send on, um, long-term assignments.”
He wasn’t sure how he should respond, so he gave her a warm smile. “Well, they did send me on this one.”
A lie without really telling one; he wondered how many times he’d have to skirt around her like this. They were interrupted by a cheery, fresh-faced waitress in a white shirt and bow tie. He listened as Kate placed her order, cheese and mushroom ravioli, and studied the way she treated the young woman. Her smile was real, as if she understood what it was like to be a hard-working server. There was respect there, something she was willing to give to their waitress because of the returned kindness. She created an instant rapport, an easy sympathy that told him this was no act on her part. This was a part of who Kathleen Frazier was. Something inside gave a little blip, a small click that startled him.
“Sir, would you like something to start with?”
He had to blink his eyes to clear his thoughts. “Oh, yes, calamari, if Kate will split it with me?”
She gave him a questioning look but nodded. As he gave the rest of his order, he noted the way she watched him, as if he were some enigma that she couldn’t possibly understand.
Not in the way she understood their waitress, or in the way she probably understood most everyone else. Another good sign, he decided, and gave her a wink when the waitress slipped away.
“I’m starving,” he admitted. “This place has the best homemade Italian food in the entire city. Including my own kitchen.”
He saw her begin to relax as he chattered and reached out to stroke her knuckles. The spark was immediate and undeniable, and he absorbed it straight down to his crotch. She 18 Flesa Black
gave a slight jerk but didn’t pull away, so he continued to caress her. She was soft, delicate, like a pastry confection that could too easily become addictive. He was struck again with the urge to touch the rise of her breasts, and had to swallow back the saliva pooling in his mouth.
Good Lord, at this rate, he’d be yanking her underneath the table and taking her right here.
And she’d want it -- he would make damn sure of that. She would be begging him, pulling at him, opening herself to him while he -- What the hell was wrong with him? He was sitting here, trying to justify making love to a woman under a table in his favorite restaurant. Not that the idea didn’t have merit, but the first time they made love, he wanted it to be private.
“Your wine.”
He looked up to find the waitress there. With a perky smile in place, she set down two wine goblets and placed the chilled bottle at his elbow. She uncorked the top efficiently then poured just a bit into his glass for him to taste. It was a chauvinistic ritual, he supposed, but one he enjoyed. He was determined that tonight would be perfect, and the wine was a large part of that plan.
“It’s excellent,” he said, and smiled as the waitress filled both glasses. He waited until she’d disappeared again to lift his goblet. “To pretty redheads who make beautiful music.”
Kate gave him a bemused look, but gently clinked her glass against his. She took a healthy sip before setting the wine aside. He watched as her fingers began to fidget, as if they were trying to find an outlet for her anxiety.
“You know I play?” she asked quietly.
“I’ve seen you leaving the apartment with your violin case and music folder. Whenever you’re in your black dress, it usually coincides with an Elizabeth Falls Orchestra performance.”
She nodded, took another sip of her drink. “I play violin, third chair.”
“That makes you third in charge of the section. You must be very good.”
“You know how that works?”
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He chuckled and nodded. “I was in the band in high school; trumpet, never made it past fourth chair.”
“Ah, a brass player. I should have known.” Her smile was quick and potent, the flash in her whiskey-colored eyes stoking his fire higher. “Brass players are always chasing girls around.”
“Guilty. To brass players and the girls they chase around.”
This time there was no hesitation; she saluted him with her glass and sipped. Asking about pieces of her life, finding out facts that no paper could have told him, he continued to talk to her while they waited. She had an agile mind, quick to think, but careful in responding. She also had a strange sense of humor and irony, the same kind that he did, actually.
Over their food, they talked more, while he was sure to keep her wine glass filled. He was careful, keeping her relaxed with the alcohol but not too close to being drunk. Just enough so that she wasn’t too shy, but not so much that her judgment was impaired. He had plans, and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin them.
“So, your sister is getting married?”
She forked up a piece of spumoni and gave him a long, suffering look. “My younger sister. My perfect younger sister. My perfect older sister has already snagged her man.”
He weighed her words but found no real bitterness there. “Who says they’re perfect?”
“The world,” she replied, and her mouth tipped into a smile. “Not that they’ve ever flaunted the fact. Actually, they’ve been great sisters.”
“The world doesn’t think you’re perfect?”
“No, thank God. I mean, could you imagine what kind of pressure that has to be? Wait, look who I’m talking to. Of course you know.” She took another drink, ate another bite of dessert. “I suppose there were times I wondered what it would be like if I had been born with blonde hair and a cute little figure. But I never resented them because they were.
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Besides, I don’t really have the personality to be a cheerleader, or student body president, or even the college equivalent of those. Which they were, of course. I was always happier playing music, learning languages, reading books…”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Sitting back, he sipped his wine. “I was a bookworm myself.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “A bookworm with plenty of Saturday night dates, I’m sure. I find it hard to believe that you would be an ugly duckling sort.”
He conceded with a shrug. “I never had to worry about who I was taking to the prom, that’s true. But I had to be careful who I asked out. I took a girl on a date once and was afraid to roll down my windows for fear that her head would float out of the car.”
He smiled when she giggled, amused by the glow of relaxation that was radiating around her. He tipped more wine into her glass, enjoying her rosy hue.
“So, why did you move to Elizabeth Falls? I can’t believe it’s because of your family.”
She blinked at him for a moment. “No, not my family. I suppose I wanted to see more, to do more. My father says it’s the Irish gypsy in me. Johnsburgh is a fine town, a good place to live for families and certain types of people.”
“And you’re not that type of person.”
“Not right now. For one thing, they don’t have a symphony of any sort. My only choice would be teaching music or…teaching music.”
“Not much of a choice.”
She took a drink of wine and nodded. “Exactly. So, I went to college --”
He watched as she visibly flinched. “College couldn’t have been all that bad.”
“Oh, it wasn’t college. I loved college, actually. It was what happened during college.”
She seemed to brace herself, taking a deep breath before she plowed ahead. “The ex-all-American quarterback of our high school class decided I was suddenly worth a second glance, and I let him look. He started bumping into me in the oddest places, calling me when Tinsel Town
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I was home visiting, e-mailing me when I was at school. I was overwhelmed; I’d never had a man give me that much attention, and for no apparent reason. So when he asked me out on a date, I said yes. Before I knew it, we were exclusive, and then we were engaged. I was, I don’t know, shell-shocked. But I was happy, or at least I thought I was happy.”
She was scrunching her cloth napkin in her hand, strangling it with her fingers on the table. Clive reached over, gently covered her hand with his, and gave her an encouraging smile. Her movements immediately stopped, and she gave him a wan look.
“We’d been engaged for three months when I found out he was fooling around with the mayor’s daughter. It had been going on for weeks.”
He had the sudden urge to knock the other man’s head completely off his shoulders.
He had a black belt, and in fact helped teach at the YMCA during the summer; he was sure he could take an ex-football player with very little effort. Especially the one who had broken Kate’s heart.
“Please don’t look like that,” she said, giving his fingers a squeeze. “I’ve had enough pitying looks to last a lifetime. I’m glad I found out when I did. Another six months and I would have been married to him.”
“He was a fool.” Staring at her, Clive willed her to see the intense attraction that he felt. A sweet, blush crept up her cheeks, and he knew she did. “If you’d agreed to marry me, I would have dragged you to Las Vegas that same night.”