Willow Smoke (79 page)

Damn,
he
already
missed
what
she
could
do
to
him
with
those
fit,
long
legs.

Don’t
go
there,
old
buddy.
This
is
hard
enough
without
torturing
yourself.
Was
she
trying
to torture him with her choice of
apparel?
He
groaned,
shifting
his
position
to
provide
his
arousal
more
room.
Hell,
it
would
be
excruciating
sitting
next
to
her
in
that dress or if she’d worn a sweat suit.

Nick
was
startled
to
see
Daisy
rise
to
her
feet
and
clap
her
hands
loudly.
Belatedly,
Nick
noticed
that
everyone
around
them
was
standing
and
applauding.

The
conductor
was
bowing
to
the
audience
and
inviting
the
musicians
to
stand.

“That
was
fantastic,”
Daisy
said,
turning to
Nick.
Her
eyes
were
shining.
“Thank
you for
bringing me. I never thought I’d enjoy the symphony. It’s such a complete
experience.
You
get
caught
up
in
the
music
whether you want to or not.”

“I’m
glad
you
liked
it.”
With
one
hand,
Nick
took
Daisy
by
the
elbow
and
guided
her
up
the
aisle.
His
other
hand
rested
low
on
her back. If
she was bothered by this
intimacy,
she
didn’t
show
it.
“We’ll
stop
at
one
of
the
pubs
nearby
for
a
drink,
and
you
can
tell
me
all
about
it.”

They
sat
in
a
darkened
corner
of
Henri’s
sipping
White
Zinfindel.
He
was
in
danger
of
being
mesmerized
by
Daisy’s
mood
swings.
First,
she’d
chatter
endlessly
about
the mood of the music, or the
instruments
she’d
learned
to
name,
or
how
the
conductor
performed
like
a
skilled
horse
trainer,
or the glitter of the
audience. And
then
she’d
withdraw
as
if
she
were
seeking
the
protection
of
a
private
cave.
He
doubted
he’d
ever
grow
bored
with
this
young
woman
so
filled
with
mystery.

“So
do
you
think
we
should
do
another
symphony
sometime?”
he
asked.

“Oh yes, that would be
great.” She leaned back away from him. “If that’s
something
you’d
like
to
do.”
Daisy
ran
an
index
finger
along
the
rim
of
her
glass.
“You
know
so
much
more
about
culture
than
I
do.”

“Don’t overrate that. My
mom saw to it
that we kids got to the
performing arts.
Sometimes
she
had
to
drag
me
kicking
and
screaming.
Literally.”

Daisy
giggled
and
quickly
covered
her
mouth.

“It’s true. I guess all
of that encouragement did have some effect, though it impacted Angie more than
me. But at least my mother tried.”

Daisy
sobered.
“I
don’t
imagine
my
mother
ever
stepped
into
a
symphony
or
a
theater.”

Reaching
across
the
small
round
table,
Nick
covered
Daisy’s
hand
with
his.
“You’re
a
well-read
young
woman,
Daisy.
You’ve
picked
up
more
culture,
as
you
put
it,
than
many
folks
who
attend
the
symphony
or the
opera or the theater or the
ballet
on
a
regular
basis.”

Scowling,
Daisy
asked,
“What
do
you
mean
by
that?”

Nick
cocked
his
head
toward
her.
“I
suppose
there are many patrons of
the arts
who
search
for
the
kind
of
meaning
you
so
evidently
find.
But
there
also
those
who go
because
they
want
to
be
seen
by
a
certain
crowd. Culture for them is
something to be worn, rather than
tasted
and
savored.”
He
squeezed
her
fingers.
“You
are
a
taster
and
a
savorer.
And
I
love that
about
you.
Along
with
a
lot
of
other
qualities.”

Nick
watched
the
color
rise
in
Daisy’s
cheeks.
She
closed
her
eyes
as
if
she
could
block
out
his
praise—though
he
expected
she
privately
cherished
his
words
before
preparing to flee from them. That was
okay.
He
didn’t
expect
to
woo
her
in
a
single
night.
But
he
was
planting
seeds.
He
hoped
that
if
he
planted
enough
seeds,
some
would
come
to
fruition.

At
some
point
during
the
past
week
of
soul
searching,
he’d
come
to
the
realization
that
one
of
many
reasons
Daisy
might
be
unable
to
accept
his
love
was
that
she
couldn’t
fathom
herself
loveable.
He’d
have
to show her
that what they had wasn’t
all
about
sex.
Though
it
might
be
hard
to
convince
the
woman
dressed
in
gold
of
that
fact
if
she
could
see
the
current size
of his erection.

- o -

“Oh,
Bear,”
said
Daisy,
squeezing
Bear
to her breasts. Even with Bear, the
bed
didn’t feel complete. “Sometimes
I don’t
remember
why it’s so
important to have
my
own
space.

“It
was
a
magical
night.
You
would
have
loved
it.
The
musical
instruments
came
to
life; I thought
they were making sounds
just
for me.
And the crowd—such beautiful
people.”
She
frowned.
“Nick
says
a
lot
of
them
are just there to be seen. I
don’t
know about that. But if so,
what a waste.

“Bear,
I
can’t
believe
it.
Daisy
Ann
Matthews
goes
to
the
symphony
with
a
handsome
escort.
It
might
as
well
be
Daisy
Ann
Matthews
wins
the
lottery.

“You
know,
maybe
he
really
does
love
me.
Could
it
really
be?”
Daisy
shook
her
head.
“Sometimes
I
think
you’re
on
his
side,
Bear. I know there aren’t
sides, but it
feels that way.