JAKrentz - Uneasy Alliance (5 page)

"Your cousin's husband is a good businessman?"

"Supposedly he is," she said with dismissal in her voice as she picked up the menu. "Let's see. Since you've committed us to the smoked salmon, I think I might have something along the lines of the veal with morels. And perhaps a nice romaine lettuce salad," she went on industriously, studying the list of elegant food.

"You can forget the veal and salad," Torr said simply, plucking the menu out of her hands. "We're having squid."

"Squid!" She stared at him.

"In an herbed wine sauce," he continued. "You'll love it."

"How do you know?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

"Because squid is loaded with vitamins and minerals." He pulled the wine bottle out of the ice bucket and poured some more of the sauvignon blanc into her glass.

Abby leveled a long, considering stare at him as he went through the action of pouring the wine. She found herself aware of something besides the basic, solid strength in him; she also recognized an intrinsic, masculine grace. And that made her remember the elegantly restrained flower designs he had created in class. Her copper-red nails beat a tiny tattoo on the white tablecloth and her contemplative expression became a frown.

"Anything wrong?" Torr asked politely.

"Do you mind telling me why?" she demanded coolly.

"Of course not, but you'll have to clarify the question. Why what?"

"Why, for a man who can create an impression of an entire spring garden with just a few leaves and a daffodil or two, you are being so heavy-handed tonight?"

"Ah, the squid." He nodded complacently.

"Actually, I meant the arrogance, not the squid in particular," she said sweetly. "You seem to forget that I've seen just how subtle you can be in class. I know you're quite capable of elegance and finesse and that means you're probably quite capable of politeness on a date. So why are you playing the overbearing, domineering male who won't even allow his companion to select her own meal?"

He thought about that for a moment, as if deciding how to explain himself. A tiny smile edged the line of his mouth and the amber eyes were unreadable. But he didn't pretend to misunderstand.

"Because a bit of arrogance with regard to something as mundane as the food provides you with a convenient target A focal point, I suppose," he finally said. "It gives you something to complain about and criticize and rail against without giving you something to really worry over. Doing things like choosing food for you without consultation is annoying, but it doesn't frighten you. And it absorbs your attention so you don't have time to worry about what's going to happen when I take you home later."

Abby sat very still, taking in the full implications of his words. "My God," she breathed eventually and not without genuine admiration, "a red herring."

"Squid," he corrected indulgently, eyes gleaming.

She shook her head. "That was very clever of you."

"Not so clever. You realized right away I was up to something," he replied sighing, and sitting back as the salmon and capers arrived.

"No, no," she denied firmly, "I'm impressed. I mean, naturally, I was aware you could be exercising a good deal more in the way of social grace if you wanted to do so, but I don't think I would ever have guessed exactly why you were playing the arrogant lord and master. I would simply have continued to stay mildly annoyed all evening. And I wouldn't have had time to worry about later."

"But now that you're on to me, you're going to start worrying?" He slid a paper-thin slice of smoked salmon onto a toast point and added a caper or two. Then he gravely held it out to her, his gaze intent.

"Should I?" Abby hesitated and then accepted the salmon offering.

"Worry about later? No. You won't have to fight me off at the end of the evening." The words were spoken with sure, steady promise.

Abby paused a moment longer, holding the toast point at her lips. She believed him, she realized. She wasn't quite certain why she should, but she did. Making her decision in her usual impulsive manner she parted her lips and sank her neat, white teeth firmly into the toast and salmon. "Okay, Torr. I won't worry about later."

"Just like that?"

She lifted one shoulder delicately. "I'm not nearly as subtle as you, and I usually make my decisions fairly quickly."

"And you've decided to trust me?" he pressed.

"Yes." She gave him a rueful glance, full of laughter. "Must be the result of watching you in class for the past few weeks. You were always so careful and gentle with the flowers," she explained wistfully. And the end result had always been that the flowers had done exactly as he wished, she reminded herself with a dash of warning. Her designs had always gone wildly out of control, but Torr's had behaved precisely as he had wanted them to behave.

"Thank you, Abby."

"Now about that squid," she began.

"I told you. You're going to love it."

"But, Torr!" The humor in her was threatening to spoil the royal protest, however, and she knew he'd seen it.

"Abby, honey, I keep telling you that I'm not nearly as subtle as you seem to think. I really do think you're going to like the squid and I intend that you should try it."

"Why do I have the strangest feeling you've never been married?" she countered, surrendering to the inevitable with good grace. To her astonishment the throwaway remark seemed to catch him off guard. He looked up quickly from the slice of salmon he was about to center on a toast point and there wasn't a trace of amusement in the amber depths of his eyes.

"I was married," he told her evenly.

Instantly Abby realized she'd overstepped some invisible boundary. "I'm sorry, Torr. I didn't mean to dredge up any bad memories. It was only a little joke. I just meant to imply that because of your casual arrogance I assumed no woman had had an opportunity to, er, whip you into shape…" Her voice trailed off uneasily as she racked her brain for another topic of conversation.

"It's all right," he finally said quietly. "I was married for two years. My wife…drowned in a swimming accident three years ago. I don't generally discuss it."

"No, no, I certainly understand," Abby said hurriedly. "There are things I don't care to talk about either. Please forgive me?" Impulsively she put out her long-nailed fingers and touched the dark sleeve of his jacket where his arm lay casually on the table.

Torr looked down at her fingers and then he folded his own square hand over hers. Abby felt as if he'd enveloped it but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, rather a warm and comforting feeling. Almost a gesture of protection, she decided, breaking into a smile.

He returned the smile and in the silent moment of communication that took place between them, Abby knew the tone of the evening had been set. She relaxed even further and knew that she was genuinely going to enjoy her time with Torr Latimer.

Something flickered in Torr's eyes as he watched her face, an emotion that might have been either relief or satisfaction. Abby decided not to worry about it. She told herself she wouldn't worry about anything else that evening, in fact.

The conversation went easily from one topic to another, bringing lighthearted arguments, unexpected agreements and a pleasurable contentment. The squid was delicious, just as Torr had predicted, and Abby was feeling sufficiently magnanimous to tell him so.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said as he escorted her back out to the car and assisted her inside.

"What?" she challenged laughingly. "You're not going to say 'I told you so'?"

"I wouldn't dream of it. I know when I'm ahead," he added with a hint of amusement. "And now I'm going to take you home, kiss you good-night at your door and hope you'll say yes when I ask you out for tomorrow."

Abby held her breath. "Where would you like to take me tomorrow?" she whispered.

"The rose gardens," he answered unhesitatingly as he pulled away from the curb.

"That sounds wonderful. I'd love to go." The decision had been made somewhere during dinner. She wanted to see Torr Latimer again.
Portland's rose gardens were a source of city pride, and although she had been to them on several occasions, the promised visit with Torr was going to be very special. She sank back into the leather seat of the BMW and contemplated the night and the man beside her. Both seemed exciting, and both contained an element of the unknown, and she realized she felt a sense of anticipation about both which she hadn't experienced in a long, long time.

"Are you really going to kiss me good-night at my door?" She dared to tease lightly, goaded by an inner need to explore the anticipation and excitement that had been building in her all evening.

He threw her a hooded, speculative glance before answering. "Unless you invite me inside, yes. Worried?"

"No." Then she realized just how true that was. "I don't feel worried about anything at all tonight," she added with a sense of wonder.

"Good. When I watched you breaking daffodils and running wild with that flower arrangement last night, wilder than usual, that is, I wondered if something might be bothering you."

Only that brochure showing up unexpectedly in her mail, she answered silently. But she had rationalized that to her own satisfaction. It was purely a fluke. She had simply gotten on the resort's advertising list.

"Right now the world seems quite perfect," she assured him easily.

"It rarely stays that way for long."

"Spoilsport."

He found another nearly hidden space on the street outside her apartment house, switched off the ignition and turned to face her in the intimate darkness. "I'm serious, Abby."

"You're always serious."

"I meant what I said. The world rarely stays perfect for very long," he continued huskily.

"Are you about to give me a lecture on how we must live for today because tomorrow could bring disaster?" she mocked. "Is this a prelude to trying
to
seduce me with that old line about living for the moment and taking our pleasures while we can?" The first hint of frost was coating her words now as she realized the lovely evening was about to end.

His dark head moved in a clear rejection of the accusation. "No, I'm only saying that if something is wrong, if your world is less than perfect when you wake up in the morning, I'll be around to deal with it."

Startled by the intensity in his words, Abby lifted her copper nails to touch the side of his face. "That's very kind of you, Torr," she murmured unsteadily.

He caught her fingers and crushed them with a degree of force that was one step beyond gentle. "I've told you before not to expect kindness from me and there's a catch to the deal I'm offering."

The softness in Abby's face froze into a distant, aloof expression. She tried to free her hand and found it trapped where he pinned it to his shoulder. "There usually is a catch to the most interesting 'deals,' " she said sarcastically.

"I'm glad you're businesswoman enough to understand that."

"What are you about to imply now, Torr? That I'm going to have to sleep with you in order to continue to enjoy the pleasure of your company?"

Again he shook his head in a slow, sure negative. "The only string I'm putting on this relationship, Abby, is that I want to be sure I'm the only man in your world. If there's someone else who thinks he has a claim on you, I want you to tell him goodbye. And I want you to get rid of him before you sleep with me."

Abby wrenched herself free, flung open the car door and leapt lightly out onto the sidewalk. "You certainly do know how to ruin a lovely evening!"

He was beside her before she found the key to the lobby door and she knew she wouldn't get rid of him until he had seen her upstairs to her apartment. They rode the elevator in silence. Her chin lifted forbiddingly as she swept down the hall.

"Abby—"

"Listen to me, Torr," she gritted. "I've been taking care of matters, perfect and otherwise, in my world for quite some time. I don't need anyone to look after me and I'm not about to make any 'deals' to get protection I don't require. Furthermore, just for your information, I would never give any man who demanded them exclusive rights over me. Men who feel they have to ask for them rarely believe a woman who makes such promises, anyway. Men like that are incapable of trust. They are possessive and quite willing to make life unbearable for a woman."

"If you've finished with the lecture, Abby," Torr began grimly as she found her apartment key, "I'd like a chance to talk this problem over in a civilized fashion."

"There won't be time. You're going to say goodnight here at my door, remember?"

He reached out to catch her wrist as she turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. When she would have stepped inside to safety he pulled her up short.

Quite unexpectedly Abby's right foot slipped out from under her. The delicate high heel had skidded awkwardly on a scrap of paper lying on the hardwood floor and the additional impetus of Torr's forceful grasp combined to send her tumbling heavily against him.

"Oh!" Her surprise was muffled against the fabric of his jacket as she instinctively clutched for support. Automatically Torr's arms closed around Abby, steadying her but not releasing her.