The Dating Game

‘Indeed it would,’ she said agreeably.

‘You really are scared of rats.’

‘Terrified.’

‘Tell me why.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘That’s personal stuff.’

He felt a tiny, illogical flicker of anger. ‘No, I don’t think you’re pursuing me,’ he said. ‘Despite the message on your T-shirt.’

Julie had forgotten about ‘Handel with Care’. She flushed scarlet, the mere thought of Teal Carruthers touching her breasts filling her with confusion. ‘It’s the only dark-colored shirt I’ve got,’ she babbled. ‘I always seem to cover myself in mud when I garden.’

‘I noticed that... I’m going to round Scott up; I’ve got a couple of hours’ work to do tonight. Goodnight, Julie Ferris.’

She said awkwardly but with undoubted sincerity, ‘Thank you very much for killing the rat.’

He suddenly smiled, a smile that brought his whole face to life so that it crackled with vitality. It was as though a different man stood in front of her, a much younger man, unguarded and free. A very sexual man, Julie thought uneasily, and took a step back.

‘Just call me St George,’ he said. ‘Take care.’

Julie was still rooted to the floor when Danny came in a few minutes later. ‘Einstein’s sulking,’ he said cheerfully. ‘He growled at me when I tried to pat him.’

‘I think we’ll leave him outside for now,’ she said with a reminiscent shiver. ‘Shower night, Danny,’ she added, and braced herself for the usual protests; Danny had an aversion to hot water and soap. Her best friend in the country had teenage sons who she claimed almost lived in the shower. Some days Julie could hardly wait.

* * *

On Saturday Julie turned down a date with the gym teacher, was extremely short with Wayne when he phoned, and went out for dinner with Morse MacLeod, one of the anaesthetists on staff. His wife had left him five months ago, a situation which could only fill Julie with sympathy. But Morse was so immersed in misery that he had no interest in hearing her own rather similar story; all he wanted was large doses of commiseration along with complete agreement that his wife’s behavior had been unfair, inhuman and castrating. By the time he took her home Julie’s store of sympathy was long gone. She was a dinner-date, not a therapist, she thought, closing the door behind Morse with a sigh of relief. But at least he hadn’t jumped on her.

School ended. Danny and Scott added a new room to the tree house and Julie had to increase the hours of her sitter. The surgeon who had invited her to go sailing on his yacht at Mahone Bay, an expedition she had looked forward to, turned out to be married; his protestations about his open marriage and about her old-fashioned values did not impress her.

Her next date was with a male nurse from Oncology, a single parent like herself. His idea of a night out was to take her home to meet his three young children, involve her in preparing supper and getting them to bed, and, once they were asleep, regale her with pitiful stories of how badly they needed a mother. Then as Julie sat on the couch innocently drinking lukewarm coffee he suddenly threw himself on her to demonstrate how badly he needed a wife. Julie fled.

Driving home, her blouse pulled out of her waistband, her lipstick smeared, she made herself a promise. She was on night duty the following Saturday. But if that film she’d yet to see was still playing the week after that, she was going to see it all by herself. No more dates. No more men who saw her as a potential mother or an instant mistress. One bed partner, made to order, she thought vengefully. Just add water and stir. Did men honestly think women were flattered to be mauled on the very first date?

A traffic light turned red and she pulled to a halt. Not one of the men she had dated since she had moved to Halifax had been at all interested in her as a person, she realized with painful truth. They never got beyond her face and her body. Was the fault hers? Was she giving off the wrong signals? Picking the wrong men? Or was she, as the surgeon had implied, simply hopelessly old-fashioned?

The light turned green. She shifted gears, suddenly aching to be in her own house, Danny asleep upstairs, Einstein curled up on the chesterfield. She knew who she was there. Liked who she was. And if she was retreating from reality, so be it. She was thoroughly disenchanted with the dating game.

* * *

The Saturday after the rat episode Teal had dinner with Janine. He had met her at a cocktail party at the law school, and had then made the mistake of inviting her to the annual dinner and dance given by his firm of solicitors. It was considered bad form to go to the dinner without a partner, and he had rather liked her. Unfortunately she had fallen head over heels in love with him.

He was not the slightest bit in love with her, had never made a move to take her to bed, and once he had realized how she felt had actively discouraged her. All to no avail. Bad enough that she was phoning him at home with distressing frequency. She had now taken to bothering him at work. So tonight he was going to end it, once and for all. It was the kindest thing to do.

Great way to spend a Saturday night, he thought, knotting his tie in the mirror. But she was young. She’d get over it. She’d come to realize, as everyone did sooner or later, that love wasn’t always what it cracked up to be.

Would he ever forget—or forgive himself—that on the very day Elizabeth had died they’d had an argument? Something to do with Scott, something silly and trivial. But the hasty words he’d thrown at her could never be retracted.

Irritably he shrugged into his summerweight jacket. He should pin a button to his lapel: ‘Not Available’. ‘Once Burned, Twice Shy’. Would that discourage all these women who seemed to think he was fair game?

This evening Janine had offered to cook dinner for him. He kept the conversation firmly on impersonal matters throughout the meal, told her as gently as he could that he didn’t want to hear from her again, and patiently dealt with her tears and arguments. He was home by ten. Thoroughly out of sorts, he paid the sitter and poured himself a glass of brandy.

Swishing it around the glass, absently watching the seventh inning of a baseball game on television, he found himself remembering Julie Ferris. Her fear of rats had reduced her to tears. But she had hated crying in front of him, and would be, he was almost sure, totally averse to using tears as a weapon. Unlike Janine. But then, unlike Janine, Julie Ferris wasn’t in love with him. She didn’t even like him.

He hadn’t been strictly truthful when he had said he didn’t like her. He did like her honesty.

His hands clenched around the glass as he remembered other things: the sunlight glinting in the shining weight of her hair; the way she had trembled at the sight of the rat; her incredibly long legs and the fullness of her breasts under the mud-stained T-shirt that said ‘Handel with Care’.

His body stirred to life. With an exclamation of disgust he changed the channel to a rerun of Platoon and immersed himself in its claustrophobic tale of war and death.

He was going to stay away from Julie Ferris.

And for two weeks he did just that. But he wasn’t always as successful at keeping her out of his thoughts. At a barbecue in Mike’s back yard a young woman called Carole attached herself to him, agreeing with everything he said, laughing sycophantically at all his jokes; Julie’s level gaze and caustic tongue were never far from Teal’s mind. Then Marylee and Bruce, two of his oldest and most cherished friends, invited him to spend the day at their summer cottage on the Northumberland Strait.

‘Can I ask Danny?’ Scott said immediately. ‘We could go swimming and play tennis, hey, Dad?’

‘No,’ Teal said, the reply out of his mouth before he even had time to think about it.

‘Why not?’ Scott wailed.

Teal didn’t know why. Because he didn’t want to explain to Bruce and Marylee who Danny was? Because he didn’t want to phone Julie and tell her about the outing? Because he didn’t want to feel that he should ask her as well?

Knowing he was prevaricating and not liking himself very much for doing it, Teal said, ‘We can’t go everywhere with Danny, son. And his mother might not like us driving all that distance and being late home. Maybe another time.’

Scott stuck his lower lip out and ran up the stairs, slamming the door to his room. Teal raked his fingers through his hair. He should discipline Scott for his behavior. But somehow he didn’t have the heart to do so.

Logically, Julie Ferris was exactly the woman he should be taking with him to the cottage. She wasn’t interested in him. She wouldn’t be phoning him all the time or trying to give him presents he didn’t want. She wouldn’t be doing her best to entice him into her bed.

Restlessly he prowled around the room, picking up the scattered pages of the newspaper and a dirty coffee-mug. So why wasn’t he phoning her and suggesting that she and Danny accompany them? It would be a foursome. Quite safe.

Like a family, he thought, standing stock-still on the carpet. A husband and a wife and their two children.

No wonder he wasn’t picking up the telephone—the picture he had conjured up hit much too close to home. But there was no way he could explain to Scott the real reason why Danny and Julie Ferris couldn’t go with them.

The cottage on a sunny afternoon in July was an extremely pleasant place to be. Scott was playing in the swimming-pool with Sara and Jane, Bruce and Marylee’s two daughters, while the adults lay on the deck overlooking the blue waters of the strait, drinking rum fizzes and gossiping lazily about some of their colleagues, one of whom was having a torrid affair with a female member of parliament. Marylee, a brunette with big green eyes, said casually, ‘Are you involved with anyone, Teal?’ As he shook his head she tilted her sunhat back the better to see his face. ‘It’s two years since Elizabeth died...isn’t it time?’

Glad that his dark glasses were hiding his eyes, Teal said fliply, ‘Nope.’

Reflectively she extracted a slice of orange from her glass and chewed on it. ‘Even if you don’t want to get involved, that’s no reason to eschew female company.’

‘I don’t,’ he said, stung. ‘Next Friday I’m going to a medical convention dance with a surgeon who’s definitely female.’ He had wondered if Julie Ferris might also be going. But he wasn’t going to share that with Marylee.

Wrinkling her tip-tilted nose, Marylee said, ‘And I bet you five dollars that’ll be your first and last date with the surgeon.’

‘I’m not interested in another relationship,’ Teal said tightly.

‘You must have lots of offers.’

‘Too many.’

‘Well, you’re a very sexy man,’ she said seriously. Bruce, stretched out beside her, gave a snort of laughter. Ignoring him, she added, ‘Plus you’re a good father and a fine lawyer—you have integrity.’

Embarrassed, Teal said comically, ‘I don’t think the women are chasing me because of my integrity.’

‘It’s your body and your bank account—in that order,’ Bruce put in.

‘Stop joking, you two,’ Marylee said severely. ‘Grief is all very well, Teal, but Scott needs a mother. And it’s not natural for you to live like a monk.’

Grief Teal could handle. It was the rest he couldn’t. ‘I’m not ready for any kind of commitment, Marylee,’ he said, getting up from his chair and stretching the tension from his body. ‘Who’s going for a swim?’

‘Men,’ Marylee sniffed. ‘I’ll never understand them if I live to be a hundred.’

Bruce pulled her to her feet. ‘You shouldn’t bother your pretty little head over us, baby doll,’ he leered. ‘Barefoot and pregnant, that’s your role in life.’

‘Men have been divorced for less than that,’ Marylee said darkly, then giggled as Bruce swept her off her feet with a passionate kiss.

Teal looked away, conscious of a peculiar ache in his belly. Although Bruce and Marylee had been through some struggles in their marriage, he would stake his life that the marriage was sound. Yet it hurt something deep within him to witness the love they shared.

Love...that most enigmatic and elusive of emotions.

No wonder he didn’t want to get involved, he thought, and headed for the pool.

CHAPTER THREE

JULIE FERRIS was on Teal’s mind again the following Friday when he and Dr Deirdre Reid entered the banquet hall in the hotel. He found himself searching the crowd for a crown of gleaming blonde hair, and didn’t know whether he was disappointed or relieved when he couldn’t find the tall, strikingly beautiful woman who was the mother of his son’s best friend. His companion said something to him, then tugged at the sleeve of his tuxedo. ‘Who are you looking for?’

‘It’s always interesting to see how many people I know at affairs like this,’ he said vaguely. ‘Do you have any idea where we’re sitting?’

‘At the head table—I told you I’m the president of the local association,’ Deirdre said briskly, and began threading her way through the throng of people.

Grinning to himself, not at all surprised that they were at the head table, Teal followed. One reason he’d accepted Deirdre’s invitation was because he didn’t think there was any danger she’d fall in love with him; Deirdre Reid’s emotions were very much under control. If indeed she had any. There were times when her acerbic sense of humor made him wonder. But she was good company, intelligent and well-informed politically.

He was introduced to a great many medical pundits on the way to the head table, where the meal was interjected with speeches, all fortunately brief, some very witty. But it was not until the dancing began in the next room that he saw the woman he had subconsciously been searching for all evening.

Julie Ferris. She was jiving with a tall, strikingly good-looking young man. She danced as if there were no tomorrow, every movement imbued with grace, joyous in a way that made his throat close. Her unselfconscious pleasure seemed to embody something he had lost—if indeed he had ever had it. He said, without having thought out the question at all, ‘Who’s the tall guy with the red hair?’

Deirdre followed his gaze. With a malicious smile she said, ‘The youngest and most brilliant specialist on staff—neurosurgery—and the worst womanizer. Why do you ask?’

‘I know the woman he’s with.’

Deirdre said dismissively, ‘He’ll be bedding her before the night’s out, I’m sure. She’s rather pretty, isn’t she? Shall we dance?’

So Julie Ferris liked sex. As much as the women who chased him. She just had a different man in mind; he, Teal, had not turned her on. Turning his back on her, he whirled Deirdre in a circle and began to dance.

The band was excellent and the wine had flowed freely during the meal. The crowd ebbed and flowed, the laughter ever louder, the colors of the women’s dresses as bright as summer flowers, but not, Teal thought sardonically, as innocent. Smoothly he traversed the dance-floor, Deirdre following his every move with a clockwork precision. The waltz ended. Julie and her partner were standing not ten feet away from them, the neurosurgeon’s hand placed familiarly low on her hip. Teal said clearly, ‘Hello, Julie.’

Her head swung round. ‘Teal...I noticed you were here,’ she said, and removed the doctor’s hand.

‘I’d like you to meet Dr Deirdre Reid,’ Teal said. ‘Julie Ferris, Deirdre...her son and mine are friends.’

‘Dr Reid and I have already met,’ Julie said coolly, her smile perfunctory.

‘Ferris?’ Deirdre repeated with equal coolness. ‘Oh, of course, Men’s Surgical. I didn’t recognize you out of uniform; all nurses look alike to me.’ She smiled up at Julie’s partner. ‘Hello, Nick, how are you? Teal Carruthers...Dr Nicholas Lytton.’

The young neurosurgeon had very pale blue eyes, and Teal disliked him on sight. As the band struck up a slow foxtrot, he said, ‘Dance with me, Julie?’

The twin patches of scarlet in her cheeks matched her outfit—a silk dinner-suit with a flounced neckline and glittering buttons; her hair was upswept on her crown, elaborate gold earrings swaying from her lobes. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and moved into his arms.

While the color in her cheeks could have stemmed from Deirdre’s rudeness, Teal thought that more probably it was in anticipation of ending the night in the neurosurgeon’s bed. She felt very different from Deirdre in his embrace, her body lissome, utterly in tune with the languorous, sensual music. He led her through a complicated turn and said, ‘You know you’re dating the worst womanizer in the entire hospital?’

Her head jerked up. Her eyes, he saw, were sparked blue with temper. ‘Who told you that?’

‘Deirdre.’

‘Is she speaking from personal experience?’

Teal gave a choked laugh. ‘It’s not like you to be bitchy.’

‘You have no idea what I’m like.’

The question forced itself past his lips. ‘Are you going to bed with him, Julie?’

‘Really, Teal, what kind of a question is that?’

‘A fairly straightforward one, I would have thought.’

‘You’re not in court—this is no place for a cross-examination,’ she said, and her lips—very kissable lips—compressed in a way that made his hands tighten their hold. ‘Don’t grab me,’ she added crossly.

‘Why not? Because I’m not a brilliant neurosurgeon, just a lawyer, and they’re a dime a dozen?’

‘Boy, you’re sure spoiling for a fight, aren’t you? Not that I’m surprised. Three hours of Dr Reid would put a saint in a bad mood.’

‘She’s an intelligent and attractive woman.’

‘So are you going to bed with her, Teal?’ she parried nastily.

‘No,’ he announced. ‘Why was she so rude to you?’

‘On my last shift she yelled at me in front of several interns and two other doctors for a mistake I hadn’t made. When I pointed out her error, she declined to apologize.’ Julie sniffed. ‘She treats patients like collections of removable organs and nurses like dirt.’

Somehow Teal had no trouble believing every word Julie had just said. ‘Then we agree about something,’ he remarked.

‘What’s that?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Neither of us likes the other’s choice of a date.’

‘You have no reason to dislike Nick,’ she flashed.

He remembered the hand sliding down her hip and said curtly, ‘Danny deserves better of you than someone like Nick.’

‘Danny’s got nothing to do with it!’

‘So you don’t take your men home when you go to bed with them? How discreet of you,’ he sneered, recognizing with a distant part of his brain that he was behaving reprehensibly.

‘What have you got against me, Teal?’ Julie demanded. ‘You’ve disliked me from the minute we met.’

You’re beautiful and full of life and you’re driving me crazy...

For a horrible moment Teal thought he had spoken the words out loud. ‘Just don’t expose my son to your love life—that’s an order,’ he said coldly. ‘He likes you and I wouldn’t want him thinking promiscuity is acceptable adult behavior.’

‘I promise that when I stand on a street corner soliciting it won’t be your street,’ she snapped. ‘It’s beyond me how you have such a nice son! Since—like most men—you’re totally wrapped up in your job, I can only presume that your wife brought Scott up.’

She felt Teal’s instant response through her fingers: a tightening of his shoulder muscles, a rigidity in his spine. ‘Leave my wife out of this,’ he grated. ‘She’s none of your business and never will be. And now I’d better hand you back to Nick, hadn’t I? I wouldn’t want the two of you to waste any time.’

As the saxophone whispered its last chords and the dancers clapped he led her toward the other couple. ‘Yours, I believe,’ he said to Nick, and smiled rather more warmly than he had intended at Deirdre. ‘Why don’t we take a break and get a drink?’ he suggested, and without a backward look threaded his way off the dance-floor.

There were two other couples that Teal knew at the bar, and they got into a ribald discussion on senate reform. An hour later when he and Deirdre went back to the ballroom, there was no sign of Nick and Julie.

They’ve gone to his place, Teal thought viciously, and wondered why in God’s name it mattered to him. Almost as though she’d read his mind Deirdre said, ‘Why don’t we go to my apartment for a nightcap, Teal? I’ve just about had enough of this.’ So he wouldn’t mistake her meaning, she traced his lower lip with her finger, her eyes a mingling of mockery and seduction.

He removed her hand. ‘I’m not into casual sex, Deirdre.’

‘It’s the only kind worth having.’

‘Not for me...sorry.’

‘I could change your mind.’

He gave her a smile every bit as mocking as her own. ‘Haven’t you heard that no means no?’

‘What a liberated man you are, Teal,’ she responded, with no intent to flatter. ‘Tell the truth—if I were Julie Ferris, no would mean yes. Because you’d rather be standing in Nick’s shoes than your own right now. Not that I can imagine Nick’s still wearing his shoes.’

Teal felt a surge of pure fury. Battling it down, he said, ‘I’ll take you home.’ And I won’t go out with you again, he thought. Thank you very much.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.