Chapter Eight
Chap-ter Eight
T his was the dumb-est idea on the planet. No, in the gal-axy. Maybe even the en-tire uni-verse. Yay, aliens, I’ve just let you all off the hook!
And now, not only was she talk-ing to her-self, she was talk-ing to imag-i-nary aliens. Ob-vi-ously, she should call Adam and tell him she was sick, too sick to go to his fa-ther’s house for din-ner, too sick to par-tic-i-pate in this cha-rade.
In-stead, she stood in her bath-room, try-ing to force her frizzy, grav-ity-de-fy-ing hair into some-thing chic and so-phis-ti-cated, to go along with her black slacks and pale pink V-neck top. No mat-ter what she did, her hair re-sem-bled a Brillo pad. To-day was the one day it mat-tered, be-cause in ten min-utes Adam was pick-ing her up.
Ob-serv-ing the fu-til-ity of her en-deavor, she pulled her hair back from her face with two combs, added pale pink lip-stick and hoped it would be enough. She walked to her win-dow and stared down at the street be-low. In the dis-tance, she heard a mo-tor rac-ing and a mo-ment later, Adam’s fancy-schmancy sports car pulled up. It was black, ex-pen-sive, and noisy. When her buzzer rang, she grabbed her purse, whis-pered beh-hahts-lah-khah , He-brew for good luck, and jogged down the steps.
Adam ex-ited the driver’s side and opened the pas-sen-ger door for her. As she started to slide in, he pulled her to-ward him and brushed her lips with his. He tasted minty and be-fore she could an-a-lyze how his kiss made her feel, he pulled away.
“You look great.”
She smiled and slid into the but-tery leather seat as he saun-tered around and started the car.
“Thanks.”
He gripped the steer-ing wheel and Dina watched him, wish-ing for easy ca-ma-raderie, but at a loss for how to get it. The ten-dons in his hands were taut and the mus-cles in his jaw bulged. When they stopped at the next traf-fic light, Dina rested her hand on his. Adam let out a breath and flexed his fin-gers be-neath her hand. His jaw un-clenched and he turned to her. “It’s not you. I’m just not look-ing for-ward to this din-ner.”
“Be-cause of me?”
“No. You’re the only good thing about it. Be-cause of my fa-ther.” He pulled her hand to-ward his mouth and kissed her fin-gers. “I like your hair.”
She laughed. “Se-ri-ously? I mean, I guess I should say, ‘thank you,’ but my hair does not de-serve a com-pli-ment.”
Reach-ing across the cen-ter con-sole, he grabbed a hank of her hair and squeezed and re-leased it. It bounced, like the spring in a pogo stick. “I like it. I will not stop com-pli-ment-ing some-thing I like. And I like you. So get used to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
His cheek twitched and Dina saw the hint of a smile cross his face be-fore he sti-fled it. But the mood in the car light-ened, at least un-til they turned into a drive be-tween two posts topped by mas-sive li-ons. As Adam steered the car around the curve, a huge brick fed-eral style man-sion with beige stone pil-lars came into view.
Dina swal-lowed and peered out the win-dow, half ex-pect-ing a line of ser-vants to stand out-side in greet-ing. This is where Adam’s fa-ther lived, and all she’d been wor-ried about was her hair?
Park-ing in front of the broad stone steps lead-ing up to an elab-o-rately carved dou-ble door, Adam hopped out of the car and came around to Dina’s side.
“Ready?” he asked, as he led her up the stairs.
“Sure.” Fake it ‘til you make it, baby.
He rang the bell and as the mu-si-cal chimes echoed in-side, Dina turned to him in puz-zle-ment.
“Wouldn’t it be eas-ier to just walk in?”
Be-fore Adam could an-swer, an older woman in black dress slacks and a white cot-ton blouse an-swered the door.
“Mr. Man-del. Your fa-ther is wait-ing for you in the liv-ing room.”
Dina walked with Adam be-hind the woman, her feet sink-ing into the plush Aubus-son car-pet, and re-sisted the urge to reach for his hand. She could do this.
Out-side the door-way of the liv-ing room, he reached for hers. His warm skin against hers and the press of his fin-gers was re-as-sur-ing. Whether he needed the sup-port, or whether he was do-ing it for show, didn’t mat-ter. They were to-gether for the mo-ment.
His fa-ther rose as they en-tered, Adam gave her hand a last squeeze but held on, and walked up to his fa-ther. They nod-ded to each other, and his fa-ther turned his at-ten-tion to her.
She held out her hand and he grasped it. While Adam might be Mr. Flashy-pants, his fa-ther was The Gen-eral, com-plete with mil-i-tary pos-ture. It was a good thing her hand was in Adam’s or she might be tempted to salute.
“It’s a plea-sure to see you again, Mr. Man-del. You have an im-pres-sive home.”
He re-leased her grasp and nod-ded. “You’re quite dif-fer-ent from Adam’s usual dates.”
Oof. She heard Adam’s in-take of breath and from the glint in his fa-ther’s eye, Dina won-dered if he was look-ing for a re-ac-tion. Her first im-pres-sion of him hadn’t been great, and he sure wasn’t help-ing his cause now. But she was here for Adam, and she’d live up to her side of the bar-gain.
“I’m sure I am,” she said, a wide grin on her face. Loop-ing her arm through Adam’s, she looked up at him, hop-ing his fa-ther could read her ex-pres-sion of ado-ra-tion.
“May I of-fer you a drink?” The Gen-eral asked.
When she nod-ded and Adam’s fa-ther reached for the whiskey de-canter, Dina blurted, “Did you know that if the 99 mil-lion cases of Scotch ex-ported each year were laid end-to-end, they would run the dis-tance be-tween Ed-in-burgh and New York six times?”
Dina froze as the words left her mouth, for the ex-pres-sions on the men’s faces were…odd. The Gen-eral’s hand was sus-pended midair above her tum-bler, his mouth slightly open, his white brows fur-rowed. Adam looked be-tween her and his fa-ther and seemed to be sup-press-ing laugh-ter.
“No, I did not know that. How…in-ter-est-ing,” The Gen-eral said. “Adam, would you like one?”
He nod-ded, eyes sparkling.
They sat in front of the fire-place, glasses in hand and Dina lis-tened to The Gen-eral and Adam make small talk. Or at-tempt to. They were re-ally bad at it. The Gen-eral men-tioned the weather and Adam an-swered with a word or two. Dina launched into a de-scrip-tion of cloud for-ma-tions. Adam men-tioned base-ball and The Gen-eral nod-ded. Just as the awk-ward ex-change was be-com-ing un-bear-able and Dina was about to break in with base-ball stats, the woman who’d opened the front door for them en-tered the room af-ter a soft knock.
“Din-ner is served.”
The Gen-eral nod-ded his head, re-mind-ing Dina of an em-peror sur-vey-ing his sub-jects. He led them out of the liv-ing room, across the ex-pan-sive foyer and into the din-ing room. If Adam hadn’t held her by the hand, she would have stopped dead in the en-try-way.
The din-ing room—to call it a room was prob-a-bly an in-sult—was awe-in-spir-ing. From at least a twelve-foot ceil-ing dan-gled a crys-tal chan-de-lier with enough lights to power a small coun-try. Mir-rors on ei-ther end of the room gave it the il-lu-sion of ex-tend-ing far fur-ther than its thirty feet. Dec-o-rated in taupe, mauve and cream, it ex-uded el-e-gance. Dina wasn’t sure she was dressed well enough for the room.
How-ever, no one stopped her and no one of-fered her a change of cloth-ing, so she sat in the Louis XVI chair Adam held out for her, stared at the bone china and sil-ver laid out on the ma-hogany ta-ble, and pre-tended she fit in.
“This room is lovely,” she said to The Gen-eral, who in-clined his head. “Did you know Louis XVI hated cats?”
It was as if her mouth had a mind of its own, which would be great if it in-volved kiss-ing Adam, but in this in-stance, she didn’t think ob-scure facts about fur-ni-ture, or the kings af-ter whom that fur-ni-ture was named, was en-dear-ing her to Adam’s fa-ther.
But this time, he laughed. “Cats? Re-ally?”
Spread-ing her cream linen nap-kin on her lap, she nod-ded.
“Well, I’ll be damned. I guess the dandy might have had some good qual-i-ties.”
A raised eye-brow from Adam pre-vented her from con-tra-dict-ing The Gen-eral on his use of dandy. In-stead, she cleared her throat, tasted the but-ter-nut squash soup and lis-tened as the two men talked about law. The sub-ject didn’t par-tic-u-larly in-ter-est her; but, their in-ter-ac-tion did. Adam asked ques-tions, as if to draw his fa-ther out. The Gen-eral ini-tially gave one or two word an-swers, but Adam per-sisted. Dina’s heart broke lis-ten-ing to him try-ing to get his fa-ther to talk to him. She slid her foot for-ward be-neath the ta-ble un-til it bumped into his. His gaze shot to-ward her and he paused mid-sen-tence.
His fa-ther no-ticed. “See, Adam, this is what I’m talk-ing about. You lack fo-cus. Care-less mis-takes are in-evitable if you don’t pay at-ten-tion.”
Dina’s gasp was lost in the quiet clat-ter of her meal be-ing served. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but that was my fault. My foot hit Adam’s and dis-tracted him.”
The Gen-eral raised an eye-brow, re-mind-ing her of his son. “My son could do with fewer dis-trac-tions.”
Adam’s hands had clasped into fists and he was poised to rise from the ta-ble. She was sup-posed to be help-ing him. Now was not the time for him to get into a fight with his fa-ther.
In-stead, she smiled. “Well, if we elim-i-nated all dis-trac-tions, nei-ther of us would be here tonight,” she said, and The Gen-eral’s jaw dropped.
With a tip of her head, Dina switched her at-ten-tion to the meal in front of her—ac-cord-ing to the per-son who’d served her, it was grilled filet mignon with a brandy pep-per-corn sauce, roasted fin-ger-ling pota-toes, and fresh spinach. It was de-li-cious and she was glad of the break to fo-cus on her food.
“Would you like more wine?” Adam held up the bot-tle and she shook her head.
“No, thank you. I’m good.”
“Tem-per-ance,” The Gen-eral said. “An-other good qual-ity. Adam, you could learn a lot from her.”
Adam’s jaw clenched and Dina had had enough. “Ac-tu-ally, I’ve learned a lot from Adam as well.”
Adam low-ered the wine bot-tle to the ta-ble, but kept his hand clenched around it. She wanted to reach out, cover his hand and soothe him, but the ta-ble was too wide and climb-ing across it? Well, she wasn’t that type of woman. Hop-ing he’d take her run-ning her foot up his calf as a sign of com-fort rather than fore-play, she con-tin-ued her con-ver-sa-tion with The Gen-eral.
“His knowl-edge of he-roes and mythol-ogy is fas-ci-nat-ing. In fact,” she turned back to-ward Adam, “I put aside some new ref-er-ence ma-te-ri-als and mag-a-zines that you might be in-ter-ested in.”
His hand re-laxed and rested on the ta-ble. “Thanks. I’ll stop by to look at them.”
“Since when are you in-ter-ested in that?” The Gen-eral didn’t bother look-ing up from his plate.
“I’ve al-ways been in-ter-ested in it. Don’t you re-mem-ber that class I took in col-lege?”
“At Emory? No, I don’t.”
Dina came from a fam-ily that paid at-ten-tion to ev-ery de-tail of her life. A par-tic-u-lar class in col-lege? Her par-ents could re-call the day and time of the class, as well as the pro-fes-sor and her fi-nal grade.
She wiped her mouth and put down her fork. “What class was it?”
“Mythol-ogy and su-per-heroes.”
“I’ll bet that was fas-ci-nat-ing.”
“Al-most made me want to get a PhD.”
His fa-ther snorted.
Dina turned to The Gen-eral. “Have you al-ways loved the law, or was there some-thing else that piqued your in-ter-est?”
A look passed over his face with a dreamy qual-ity that had she not seen, she would never have be-lieved.
“I took a the-ater class once.”
Adam paused mid bite. “Re-ally? What kind?”
“Mu-si-cal. I was told it was help-ful for pub-lic speak-ing.” He smiled as if lost in a mem-ory. “That was a lot of fun.”
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Adam said.
“I’m more of the shower va-ri-ety.” He hummed a few bars and af-ter a cou-ple of sec-onds, The Gen-eral turned to his son. “I like this one. I don’t know how you found her or what she sees in you, but if you’re as smart as some-one with my DNA is sup-posed to be, you’ll keep her.”