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There was another couple just two tables away, also on their first date, judging from the snatches of conversation that drifted over. They too were making their way through the appetizer. As James called the waiter over for the fourth time, Lea occupied herself by concentrating on the other couple. The guy was probably in his early thirties, and didn’t yell at the waiters, which currently made him a dream date in her book. Not that his looks hurt any either. The woman was several years younger, her hair long and blond, her laughter loud, and she seemed to have a black belt in flirting.
The blonde obviously knew all the rules, all the in and outs of this mysterious dating culture, Lea thought enviously. She should be taking notes. The show was fascinating. Flip hair, lean forward, show cleavage, tilt head sideways and smile coyly.
Hmm. Only, it didn’t seem to be working. The guy leaned back and seemed rather bored, although his smile was polite enough. He picked up his fork and speared his shrimp, his attention wandering to James who was waving the menu in front of the waiter.
The blonde made another attempt to draw her date’s attention with the flip hair, coy smile routine. The man seemed to realize what was expected of him. He put his fork down, leaned forward and talked for a bit, seemingly answering a question.
Meanwhile, his date was scouting the restaurant, and then stood up, and headed for the rest room.
Maybe she should follow the blonde to the rest room for some girl talk. That girl looked like she knew a thing or two. She could drill her about all the details that were nagging at her. Like, was she expected to kiss her date tonight? Would she be breaking all the rules if she didn’t? Would James charge her with violations of dating ethics if she made do with a handshake and then escaped into her apartment?
She glanced at her date and decided she really, really didn’t want to kiss him if there was any way out of it.
He was bashing the poor waiter again, but at least that activity was distracting him from the footsie game. Apparently there was a typo on the menu. His monologue was drawing more and more attention from the neighboring tables, not the least from the blonde’s date, who was looking at her with certain sympathy in his gaze and a weak smile pulling at one corner of his mouth.
Oh, Lord. Not only was she on her first date since high school, she had strangers pitying her.
Blind date, she mouthed at the stranger on an impulse, shrugging helplessly.
The man raised his eyebrows, then grimaced. Me too, he mouthed back, sending her a sympathetic grin and a rueful shake of his head.
That one, she might not mind kissing at the end of the evening, she conceded. Gorgeous eyes—dark blue, from what she could tell from here—and the smile was even better. The blonde had nothing to complain about. Some girls had all the luck.
The third waiter incident was over at last. Lea tried to catch the waiter’s eye for an apologetic look, but the harassed young man was hurrying away from the table, and she didn’t blame him. Worse, James’s toes were digging into her foot again. She pulled her legs under the chair once more, but he seemed to consider that a coy game of playing hard to get, and his foot was now on her calf.
What the hell was he thinking?
Once again she cursed her inexperience at this thing. Was this a normal part of whatever activities were involved in a first date in today’s world, or would she be justified in being insulted enough to throw down her napkin and stalk out of the restaurant?
She didn’t want to make a scene. She hated making scenes but that man wasn’t taking a hint, was he?
She’d try an unsubtle one.
“I’m sorry, but your foot keeps bumping into me,” she said with a polite laugh, once again moving her legs. “Not a lot of room under these tables, is there?”
Doggone it, it worked. James’s face froze in astonished shock, then his feet were mercifully withdrawn.
So was conversation. So were smiles.
Which only left arguments with the waiter, didn’t it?
Lea groaned under her breath after making several attempts to start a conversation, all met with an icy yes, no, or noncommittal grunts if she asked open-ended questions.
What a guy.
She gave up for the time being, and instead went for another glass of wine. She picked at the smoked salmon, but there was no way anything could have a taste in these circumstances. This was dreadful. If she clicked her heels three times, would she be transported out of here? Anywhere, anytime, would be better than right here, right now. She was being ignored by her date, who’d obviously been insulted by her refusal to be toe-groped under the table. For all she knew, she was being terribly unfair. Maybe there was even something she should be doing in return. Like scratching behind his ears with her fork.
She might as well have stepped onto another planet.
Their next-table neighbors weren’t doing much better, although she could see under their table and at least the blue-eyed guy didn’t seem to belong to the Footsie Cult. He seemed, however, to have lost his appetite and was leaning back in his seat, looking with a bit of a terror at the blonde, who had finished her appetizer and was now blowing green bubble gum bubbles in between her energetic chatting. Her voice was loud, and her favorite subject matter seemed to be celebrity gossip. Then she stuck her gum on her plate and jumped to her feet, heading for the rest room for the second time in twenty minutes.
Mr. Blue Eyes slumped in relief and took a deep breath, rubbing his face with both hands. He then picked up his fork and started pushing his food around his plate. He met Lea’s gaze again, and they sighed silently in unison.
James started hollering for the waiter again, and Lea stood up so quickly that the heavy wooden chair almost toppled. “I’ll just…” she waved a hand in the direction of the rest room. “I’ll be right back…” she murmured. She’d probably be able to hear the one-sided argument in there. Hopefully she could just stay locked in there until everything was silent again.
“Darling…I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Lea almost flew up the wall in shock. The blue-eyed stranger was all of a sudden at her side, his hand on her shoulder, intense regret in his voice, She nearly panicked. Two psychos in one night, what were the odds?
Then she noticed him winking at her.
“Can you forgive me?” he continued, the look in his eyes beseeching, and behind the playacting, a wicked glint of humor. And they were blue. Very blue, she noticed vaguely, before she was distracted by a warm kiss pressed to the back of her hand. “I’ve missed you so much, darling,” he said, his voice low and intimate, but just loud enough to make sure James would hear. “I’ve been going out of my mind. When I saw you again, I knew we’d been so wrong to break up.”
Lea hesitated, her mind racing to keep up with the sudden galloping of her heart. What’s a girl to do?
She glanced once at Mr. Footsie and made up her mind. Sometimes, the devil you didn’t know was the better choice. “I’m sorry too,” she said, throwing her arms around the stranger’s neck. “It was a such a mistake,” she mumbled into his chest, feeling exhilarated by her uncharacteristic behavior. The man’s arms came around her in a tight hug and she felt his breath against her hair as her nose squashed against his shoulder.
Oh, wow. This was interesting. No wonder people went out on dates if this sort of thing happened to them on a regular basis.
“What’s going on?” a familiar whiny voice demanded. Lea pulled away from the stranger, who kept his arm around her shoulders, and tried to look contrite and deliriously happy at the same time. Good thing she’d taken those acting lessons back in high school, but then again, the prospect of escaping Mr. Footsie the Sulk was indeed occasion for delirious happiness. That last glass of wine hadn’t hurt either.
“I’m sorry, James, but this is my…fiancé,” she told him. “We recently broke up…but…” she tightened her hold of her savior’s arm and smiled up at him. “It was a mistake. We belong together.”
The blonde, back from the rest room, joined them, looking furious at seeing her date with another woman in his arms. “What the hell is going on? Who’s that?”
“I’m sorry, Beth,” he said. “I’m in love with her. I always was. I thought we were over, but when I saw her again…” The stranger smiled down at Lea, and once again the look in his eyes was so loving and passionate that she was almost fooled herself.
He was good.
“Beth…” He looked at the blonde. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready to date again, but when I saw her again, I just knew…I’m sorry to cut our date so short. Can you understand?”
“Of course. It’s okay,” the blonde said, her eyes widening. “Oh, this is so romantic…I’m so happy for you.” Lea was astonished to see tears fill the blonde’s eyes. “So romantic,” she sniffed. “Just like on Rendezvous with Romance. I haven’t missed an episode since I was sixteen. This could be Pierre and Paradise, realizing they’re still in love despite everything.” She jumped at them, wrapping one arm around each of their necks, giving Lea a constructive lesson in perfumes-to-wear-on-first-dates. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Beth.” Blue Eyes kissed the blonde on the cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
Lea sneaked a peek at James. She imagined he wouldn’t be quite so understanding. More likely that he was on the verge of another tantrum.
James’s jaw was working, his face flushed in anger, but he seemed to be working on a way to save his wounded pride. He stared at Beth for a while and took a deep breath, collecting his dignity. Then he stood up, gave a small bow and gestured toward Lea’s abandoned chair, ignoring Lea and Blue Eyes completely. “Why don’t you join me?” he offered. “It looks like we’re both getting dumped, so we might as well finish our meals together, don’t you think?”
Beth’s cherubic face lit up and she wasted no time in claiming her seat. “Absolutely. Thank you!”
Lea stuttered some hurried goodbyes as her savior insisting on leaving money on the table to pay for all four meals, then put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her toward the exit. She made a mental note of remembering to pay him back, but then everything was drowned in cheerful applause from every corner of the restaurant. Blue Eyes turned around and bowed, his arm still tight around her. Lea felt her face catch fire. She glanced up at him, and he grinned back. Was this something he did every day? All in a dating day’s work?
She waved weakly to their audience, shrugged his arm from her shoulder and grabbed his hand. She’d do the leading. She wanted out of here. Now.
Her motives for the sudden escape got the predictable interpretation, and laughter and a few wolf whistles slid through the door as it closed behind them.
What an evening.
This was it. Hand kisses from hunky strangers or not—dating was definitely not for her. Too risky. Too dangerous. Too unsettling.
She glanced sideways to the man holding her hand.
Too…exciting?
“Wow,” she breathed as soon as they had turned the corner and were out of sight of the restaurant windows. She stopped, almost stumbling on her heels, and glanced back toward the restaurant, relieved despite everything. She wouldn’t have to go through the rest of the evening. The kissing dilemma had mercifully vanished. “Did that really happen, or am I having a very surreal dream?”
“It happened, believe it or not.” The stranger grinned as he released her hand. “We’re off the hook. Thank you for the rescue.”
“Thank you.” She shuddered. “What was happening to me was infinitely worse than green bubble gum.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I noticed the cat and mouse game under the table. Not exactly a gentleman, is he?”
Lea shrugged. “You tell me. That’s not a part of the regular dating ritual?”
The man frowned in confusion. “Ritual? Uh, no. Not that I know of, anyway.”
“I don’t do this a lot, you see. It’s good to hear that’s not the standard. He…Oh! Poor Beth!” Lea groaned. “No, we can’t do this. We can’t leave her like this.”
“Don’t worry about Beth. She’s a bit of a man-eater. A sentimental, cries at the drop of a hat, man-eater. If that guy goes out of line, he’s likely to find himself with a lapful of gravy.” He held out a hand. “I’m Thomas Carlisle.”
“Lea Rhodes.”
Thomas smiled. “Nice to meet you. Can I call you a taxi? Walk you to your car? Give you a ride home?”
“Taxi would be good. I just want to get home, curl up with my cat and cry my mascara off.”
“Was it that bad?”
“I believe I’ve got the imprint of his toes on my ankle.”
He winced. “Ouch. My sympathies. Some guys have no class.”
“Dating sucks,” she muttered. “And I’m no good at it.”
“It’s an art form,” he agreed. “An acquired skill, definitely. Acquired taste, too. Not for everybody.”
“You sound like an expert.”
He grinned. “Yeah, well, when you’re not interested in wedding bells and not looking to settle down, you get an extended run at the dating part. As they say, practice makes perfect, doesn’t it?”
“Practice makes perfect?” She stared at him, wheels struggling to churn in her head. She wasn’t drunk yet,—but after a cocktail and two glasses of Chardonnay on an empty stomach she was damn close.
Practice? Hmm…Here she had run into someone not interested in commitment, just in casual dating. A serial dater. Someone with plenty of experience in this, someone who knew all about what, when and how when it came to the dating game.
He was right. He was perfect.
CHAPTER TWO
HE’D rescued the cutest damsel in distress from her own dragon’s claws—a creep who thought he could grope his way to a woman’s heart. He wasn’t sure why his intervention had been needed—why the lady hadn’t simply thrown her drink in the guy’s face and fled the restaurant.
He wasn’t sure either what had possessed him to stage such an elaborate play to rescue her. That hadn’t been a part of the deal. He was just supposed to call Anne on his cell phone and she’d handle the rest—probably phone Lea and stage a fake emergency to get her out of there.
But something—he wasn’t sure if it was the tediousness of his own blind date, or the fascinating twinkle in Lea’s eyes when they’d communicated silently across the room in their parallel dilemmas—had compelled him to intervene.
And here they were, and he wasn’t sure what to do now. Anne had threatened bodily harm if he let Lea know she’d gotten a stranger to chaperone her date. Observe, she’d instructed him. Lea’s not used to dating, and you know what blind dates can be like. If she runs into trouble, call me, and I’ll take it from there.
She’d left out the fact that her “spinster” friend was someone she really should have introduced him to a long time ago. Lovely dark hair and expressive green eyes that he’d seen radiate all sorts of emotion in the half-hour he’d been watching her at the restaurant. Maybe he could turn this around to his advantage, he mused.
Yeah. Why not? He’d see if they could continue this date somewhere else.
He’d opened his mouth to say something when the look in Lea’s eyes stopped him. The gratitude in her eyes didn’t really surprise him, considering the action he’d witnessed under their table, but it had quickly been replaced with another expression. He tried smiling at her, and her eyes narrowed in a calculating look.
He forgot all about his plans for an impromptu date, and found himself wanting to take a step back.
Why was she all of a sudden looking at him much like he imagined the big bad wolf had looked at Little Red Riding Hood?
“Practice makes perfect, you say?” she said slowly, her cheeks still red from the excitement of the last few minutes—and perhaps from one drink too many. Then her voice rose in exhilaration. “This is terrific. You’re just what I need. Finally fate decides to be on my side. It’s about time, too.”
“I’m just what you need?” Thomas asked.
“Yes!”
“And what is it that you need?” Judging by the wild look in her eyes, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but it was probably safer to ask, before she went right ahead and helped herself to…whatever she needed.
“A guy like you. You know. A serial dater. A playboy.”
“A playboy?” Thomas gave in to his instincts and took that cautious step back. Magical green eyes or not, had he rescued a slightly nuts—as well as tipsy—damsel in distress? “I’m definitely not a ‘playboy.’ I’m not even sure they make those outside of Hollywood.”
She shrugged. “Okay, a playboy probably isn’t the right word. I don’t have the terminology quite straight. I took a crash course online last night. Amazing, the things you’ll learn if you type ‘dating’ into a search engine. A player, that’s what you’re called, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“Players,” she repeated patiently. “Single men, playing the field for all it’s worth, you’re called players, aren’t you?”
“Uh…I don’t know. We are? They are?”
She didn’t seem to have heard him, and she still had the big bad wolf look on her face. “Listen…” she said slowly. “We missed out on the main course and I don’t think either of us ate much of our appetizer. I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am. Can I buy you dinner somewhere? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry—I’m sounding a bit crazy, aren’t I?”
Thomas laughed, feeling a bit relieved. Nuts usually didn’t realize they were sounding nuts. There might be an explanation for her weird ramblings. She might even be okay after all, which would be a definite plus to the evening since the damsel intrigued him a whole lot more than Beth had. “I won’t deny that the thought crossed my mind.”
“Sorry. But I have a problem, and I think you could help me solve it…” She paused and looked around. “There is a point to this, I promise. But it’s a bit of a long story. What do you say about dinner? We need to eat anyway.”
“Sounds great,” he said. “And I really am starving. You don’t stick gum on your plate, do you?”
She had a great smile, one that hadn’t been much in evidence during her date with the footsie guy, except in her silent exchanges with him. “I promise. My chewing gum doesn’t come in that shade of green, either.” She glanced around again. “Where can we eat? Do you know this neighborhood?”
“Not really. But I think I know of a place that might have tables available. My car is here, we could drive there. It’s maybe fifteen minutes away.” He hesitated, realizing they were complete strangers. “On second thoughts, you probably prefer that we take a taxi, don’t you?”
