Seven
“Of course I’ve been listening,”
Cliff insisted. He didn’t know what was bothering Diana, but she’d been acting jumpy from the minute he’d picked her up.
“I told you, I’m not ready.”
“For dinner?”
He couldn’t understand why she was so riled up all of a sudden.
He’d been looking forward to this evening for days.
The crab was cracked for their appetizers, hollandaise sauce simmered on top of the stove, ready to be poured over fresh broccoli.
The thick T-bone steaks were in the refrigerator, just waiting to be charcoal grilled.
He wanted everything perfect for tonight, for Diana. The wine was chilled—he’d seen to it all.
“In case you weren’t aware of it,”
Diana cried, pointing a finger at her chest, “I live in this body!”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“This.”
She gestured wildly with her arm toward the open space of his living room. “Tell me, Cliff, exactly what have you planned for tonight?”
She flopped down on his white leather couch, crossed her legs and glared at him with wide, accusing eyes.
“A leisurely candlelight dinner. Is that a crime, or did I miss something in law school?”
Diana ignored his sarcasm. “And that’s all? What about after dinner?”
He scooted the ottoman in front of the couch, sat down and leaned forward so his eyes were level with hers. “I thought we’d share a couple of glasses of wine in front of the fireplace.”
“And sample a few stolen kisses, as well?”
she coaxed.
Cliff grinned, relaxing. “Yes.”
The lilting strains of the music from a hundred violins drifted through the room. She noticed the way the lights in the hallway that led to the master bedroom had been dimmed invitingly.
The door to his room was cracked open, a ribbon of muted light beckoning to her. The romance in the condominium was so thick, Diana could hardly see the romancer.
“But you’re planning on something else happening, aren’t you?”
she asked, her eyes effectively holding his.
Cliff opened his mouth to deny it, then quickly decided against trying to bluff his way out of the obvious. He didn’t have any choice but to be honest with Diana. Before he could say anything, she cut him off.
“Don’t lie to me, Cliff Howard,”
she declared, folding her arms defiantly around her torso. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you honestly believe I’m so naive to not know that you’ve planned the big seduction scene?”
“All right. All right.”
He eased her arms loose and reached for her stiff fingers, holding them between his hands. “Maybe I’m going off the deep end here, but after the other night, I thought maybe . . .”
“Exactly what did you think?”
“That you and I had something special going for us. Something very special.”
“You want to make love to me?”
“You’re right I do,”
he murmured, and raised her fingertips to his lips. His gaze didn’t leave hers, as though seeking confirmation. “And you want me, too, so don’t try to deny it.”
“I have no intention of doing so. You’re right on target . . . things could easily have gotten out of hand the other night.”
Cliff was beginning to feel more confident now. He realized that some women required more assurances. “Then you can understand—in light of Thursday night—why I’m thinking what I’m thinking.”
He raised his eyebrows suggestively, seeking a way to alter the sober tone of this conversation.
Diana was becoming far too defensive over something that was inevitable.
Wanting her in his bed shouldn’t be considered a felony.
Surely she realized that.
Diana felt incredibly guilty.
She couldn’t be angry with Cliff when she’d given him every reason to believe she was willing to sleep with him.
Not until he’d left and her head had cleared did she realized how wrong a physical relationship with Cliff was for her.
Unfortunately Cliff had no way of knowing about her sudden change of heart.
The anger rushed out of her as quickly as it had come.
She freed one hand from his grip and gently traced the underside of his well-defined jaw. She wasn’t sure what she’d gotten herself into, but she wanted to make it right for them both.
Cliff captured her hand and held it against his cheek, needing her more and more by the minute.
If she didn’t stop looking at him with those incredibly lovely brown eyes, he couldn’t offer any guarantee he’d be able to serve the meal he’d spent so much time preparing.
“Cliff, I feel bad about all this, but I’m simply not ready.”
He stared at her for a full moment, weighing his options.
She was frightened, he could see that, and he didn’t blame her for acting like a nervous virgin.
It had been a long time since a man had properly loved her.
Thursday night she’d been as hot as a firecracker.
It had hurt Cliff to leave her, both physically and mentally.
She had to know him well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to rush her into something she didn’t want. First he had to make sure everything was right for her.
“Honey,”
he whispered, and leaned forward to sample her sweet lips. Their mouths clung, and when he sat back down, he closed his eyes at the bolt of passion that surged through him. “Trust me, you’re ready.”
Diana blinked back the dismay. Nothing she’d said had sunk into Cliff’s thick skull. She tugged her hands free and clenched them together. “Answer me this, Cliff. Do you love me?”
Groaning inwardly, Cliff forced a smile. Over the years he’d come to almost hate that word. Women hurled it at him continually, as if it were a required license for something they wanted as much as he did. “I believe there’s magic between us.”
Diana’s returning grin was infinitely sad. “Oh, Cliff, it sounds as if you’ve used that phrase a hundred times. I expected you to be more original than that.”
She shamed him, because he had used that line before—not as often as she said, but enough to warrant a guilty conscience.
Her look told him how much she disapproved of glib, well-worn words.
To hear her tell it, he was another Hugh Hefner.
Well, he had news for her—she wasn’t exactly Mother Teresa.
He didn’t know how she could deny the very real and strong sexual tension between them.
Diana was warm and loving, and confused.
All he wanted to do was show her how good things could be between them, and Diana was making it sound as though he should be arrested for even thinking about taking her to bed.
She dropped her gaze and sighed. “It would be best if I went home.”
Her words were as unexpected as they were unwelcome. “No!”
“No?”
“Diana, we’ve got something magical here. Let’s not ruin it.”
Cliff was grasping at straws and knew it, but he didn’t want her to leave.
“What we’ve got is a bunch of hormones calling out to one another. There’s no commitment, no love!”
“You don’t believe that.”
“Am I wrong?”
she asked with eyes that ripped into his soul. “Are you ready to offer your life to me and the girls?”
She knew the answer, even if he didn’t. Love preceded marriage, and although he cared for her, he didn’t love her.
Commitment was another word Cliff had come to abhor. He jerked his fingers through his hair, almost afraid to speak for fear of what he’d say. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
Already she was on her feet, her purse clenched under her arm. “Goodbye, Cliff.”
He stood and crossed the room. “Why are we arguing like this, when all I want to do is make love to you?”
Dejected, Diana paused, her hand on the doorknob. “In case you haven’t figured it out, that’s exactly our problem.”
Cliff was growing more impatient by the minute.
Impatient and overwhelmingly frustrated.
Okay, so she’d read his intentions; he hadn’t exactly tried to cover up what he’d planned for the evening.
She could be a good sport and play along, at least until after dinner.
He wasn’t going to force her into anything if she honestly objected. “Is wanting you such a sin?” he asked.
“No,”
she answered smoothly, “but I need something more than magic.”
She couldn’t explain it any better. If Cliff didn’t understand love and commitment, then it was unlikely he’d be able to follow her reasoning. And she had no intention of trying to justify it anyway.
“Come on, Diana, wake up and smell the coffee. Times have changed. Men and women make love every night.”
“I know.”
She had no more arguments. There was nothing more to say. She twisted the knob and pulled.
Cliff’s fist hit the door, closing it with a sharp thud. “I don’t know what happened between Thursday night and now, but I think you’re being entirely unreasonable.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
His anger and disappointment were almost more than he could bear. “Please don’t leave.”
“I can’t see any other option.”
He gritted his teeth, trying to come up with some way to make her understand. “Diana, listen to me. I’m a sexual person. I haven’t been with a woman in a long time. I’ve got to have you for the pure physical release, I . . .”
Her stunned look caused him to swallow the rest of what he was saying.
“Goodbye, Cliff,”
she said, and then jerked open the door and walked out.
Cliff stared at the closed front door for a full minute.
He couldn’t believe he’d said that to her, as though she and she alone were responsible for easing his sexual appetite.
He couldn’t have made a bigger mess of this evening had he tried.
Diana didn’t know she could walk so fast.
Instead of going along the sidewalk, she cut between parked cars and crossed the street.
Within a few minutes she was close to the marina.
A Metro bus pulled to a stop at the curb, and its heavy doors parted with a whoosh.
Without knowing its destination, Diana climbed on board.
She had already taken her seat, when she saw Cliff’s sports car race past the bus and chase after a taxi.
Her eyes followed Cliff and the taxi until they were out of sight.
Diana was able to get a transfer from one bus to another, and an hour later she walked inside her house, exhausted and furious.
“Mom, where were you? What happened?”
Joan cried, running to the door to greet her. “Cliff’s been calling every ten minutes.”
She ignored the question and headed for the refrigerator.
For the past half hour, she’d been walking.
She was dying of thirst, and her feet hurt like crazy—a lethal combination. Both Joan and Katie seemed to recognize her mood and went out of their way to avoid her.
Diana had been home fifteen minutes, when the phone rang again. Joan sprinted into the kitchen to answer it.
“If it’s Cliff, I don’t want to talk to him,”
Diana yelled after her daughter.
Joan reappeared a couple of minutes later. “He just wanted to know that you got home okay.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were mad as hops.”
Diana groaned, sagged against the back of the overstuffed chair and hugged a pillow to her stomach.
That wasn’t the half of it.
The next time she went racing out of a man’s condominium, she’d make sure she carried enough cash to take a cab home.
She’d ridden on the bus with two winos and a guy who looked like a candidate for the Hell’s Angels.
“Are you mad at Cliff, Mom?”
Katie wanted to know, plopping down at her mother’s feet.
“Yes.”
“But I like Cliff.”
“Don’t worry, kid, I got all the bases covered.”
Joan sank onto the carpet beside her sister. “Cliff just phoned. I advised him to wait a couple of days, then send roses. By that time, everything will be forgotten and forgiven.”
The pressure Diana applied to the pillow bunched it in half. “Wanna bet?”
she challenged.
Shirley poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table beside Diana. “It’s been a week.”
“I told you I didn’t want to hear from him.”
Diana continued copying the recipe for yet another hamburger casserole that disguised vegetables.
She had only a few minutes before the girls would be home from school, then the house would become an open battlefield.
Both Joan and Katie had been impossible all week.
Without understanding any of what had happened between Cliff and her, her daughters had taken it upon themselves to champion his case.
Diana refused to talk about him and, as a last resort, had forbidden either girl to mention his name again.
For the first few days after their argument, Diana had held out hope that things could be settled between her and Cliff, It didn’t take long for her to accept that it was better to leave matters as they were.
They were in a no-win situation.
The bottom line was that they’d only end up hurting each other.
Despite everything, Diana was pleased to have known Cliff Howard.
She’d been living her life in a cooler; she’d grieved for Stan long enough.
It was time to join the land of the living and soak up the sunshine of a healthy relationship again.
Dating Cliff had shown her the way out of the chill, and she would always be grateful to him for that.
In the past three years, she’d dated only occasionally.
Cliff had helped her to see that she was ready to meet someone, pick up the pieces of her shattered life and move on.
“But I feel bad,”
Shirley continued, holding the coffee mug with both hands. “George told me I had the wrong impression of Cliff—he isn’t exactly the playboy I led you to believe.”
“Honestly, Shirley, I’d think you’d be happy. I’ve finally agreed to a dinner date with Owen Freeman.”
For two years her neighbor had been after Diana to at least meet this distant relation of hers.
Diana had used every excuse in the book to get out of it.
She simply hadn’t been interested in being introduced to Shirley’s third cousin, no matter how successful he was.
Cliff had changed that, and Diana would have thought her neighbor would appreciate this shift in attitude.
“I know I should be thrilled you’re willing to meet Owen, but I’m not.”
Shirley ran the tip of her index finger around the rim of her mug. She hesitated, as though she’d noticed the flower vase in the center of the table for the first time. It came from a florist. “Who sent the flowers?”
“Cliff.”
“Cliff Howard?”
Diana nodded, intent on copying the recipe. He’d taken Joan’s advice and sent the bouquet of red roses with a quick note of apology scribbled across the card. In other words, the next move was up to her. It had taken Diana several days of soul-searching to decide not to contact him. The decision hadn’t been an easy one, but it was the right one.
“But if he sent you flowers, then he must be willing to patch things up.”
“Maybe.”
Diana dropped the subject there.
Her neighbor paused. “The least you could do is tell me what he did that was so terrible. If you can’t talk to me, then who can you talk to?”
Diana’s fingers tightened around the pencil.
Shirley wasn’t asking her anything Joan and Katie hadn’t drilled her about a dozen times.
Both girls had been out of joint from the minute Diana informed them she wouldn’t be seeing Cliff again.
Katie had argued the loudest, claiming she wanted to go on his sailboat one more time.
Joan had ardently insisted she liked Cliff better than anyone, and had gone into a three-day pout when Diana wouldn’t change her mind.
As patiently as she could, Diana explained to both girls that there would be other men they would like just as well as Cliff.
“What I want to know,”
Diana said, reaching for her own coffee as she studied her friend, “is why you’ve changed your tune all of a sudden.
When I first started going out with Cliff, you were full of dire warnings.
And now that I’ve decided not to see him again, you’re keen for me to patch things up with him.”
“You’re miserable.”
“I’m not,”
Diana shot back, then realized what Shirley said was true.
She missed Cliff, missed the expectancy that he’d brought back into her life, the eagerness to greet each day as a new experience.
She missed the little things—the way his hand reached for hers, lacing her fingers with his.
She missed the way his eyes sought her out when the girls were jumping up and down at his feet, wanting something from him.
She hadn’t realized how lonely she was until Cliff had come into her life, and now the emptiness felt like a huge, empty vacuum that needed to be filled.
“It’s best this way,”
Diana said after a thoughtful moment.
Shirley’s hand patted hers. “Okay,”
she said reluctantly, “if you say so.”
“I do.”
Neither spoke for a long time. Finally Shirley ventured into conversation. “When are you having dinner with Owen?”
“Tomorrow,”
Diana answered. Now all she had to do was pump some enthusiasm into meeting Shirley’s third cousin, who taught English literature at the local community college.
The following evening, Diana tried to convince herself what a good time she was going to have. She showered and dressed, while Joan followed her around the bedroom, choosing her outfit for her.
“How come you’re wearing your pearl earrings?”
Joan demanded. “You didn’t wear them for . . .”
She started to say Cliff’s name, then hurriedly corrected herself since he was a forbidden subject. “You know who—and now you’re putting them on for some guy you haven’t even met.”
Diana’s answering smile was weak at best. She needed the boost in confidence, but explaining that to her daughter would be difficult.
When her mother didn’t answer, Joan positioned herself in front of Diana’s bedroom window that looked down onto the street below. “A car just pulled into the driveway.”
“That will be Mr. Freeman. Joan, please, be on your best behavior.”
“Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He just got out of the car—he’s wearing plaid pants.”
Diana reached for her perfume, giving her neck and wrists a liberal spray, and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “It’s not right to judge someone by the clothes he wears.”
“Mom, he’s a nerd to the tenth power.”
Joan sagged onto the end of the mattress and buried her face in her hands. “If you end up marrying this guy, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Joan, honestly!”
“Mom, Mr. Freeman is here,”
Katie screamed from the foot of the stairs after peeking out the living room window. She raced up to meet her mother, who was coming out of the bedroom. “Mom,”
she whispered breathlessly. “He’s a geek. A major geek!”
Feigning a smile, Diana placed her hand on the banister and slowly walked down the stairs to answer the doorbell.
As far as looks went, the blonde won over Diana, hands down, Cliff decided. He smiled at the sleek beauty who clung to his arm, and tried to look as though he were enjoying himself. He wasn’t. In fact, he’d been miserable from the minute Diana had walked out of his condominium. At first he’d been furious with her. For a solid hour he’d driven around, searching for her, desperate to locate her. Only heaven knew where she’d run off to—it was as though aliens had absconded with her.
Twice he’d broken down and phoned her house, nearly frantic with worry. Joan had assured him, on the third call, that her mother was home and safe. It was then that Cliff had decided that whatever was between Diana and him was over. She was a crazy woman. One minute she was melting in his arms, and the next she was as stiff as cement, hissing accusations at him.
Two days later, after he’d had a chance to cool down, Cliff changed his mind. He’d behaved like a Neanderthal. The remark he’d made about being a sexual person returned to haunt him. It was no wonder she was angry, but she’d played a part in their little misunderstanding, leading him on, letting him think there was a green light in her eyes where it was actually a flashing red one. He didn’t possess ESP—how was he supposed to read her mind? Okay, he’d make the first move toward a reconciliation, he decided, and then leave the rest up to her. On his instructions, his secretary ordered the roses with an appropriate message. Cliff had sat back and waited.
When he hadn’t heard from Diana by the end of the week, he was stunned. Then shocked. Then angry. All right, he’d play her game—he was a patient man. In time she’d come around, and when she did, he’d play it cool. If anyone was sitting home nights, alone and frustrated, it wouldn’t be him. He’d make sure of that.
Hence Marianne—the blonde.
“Who are you going out with tonight?”
Joan asked her mother as she sat at the kitchen table and glued on a false thumbnail.
“Not Mr. Freeman again,”
Katie groaned, and reached for an apple.
“He’s a nice man.”
“Mom, if you wanted nice, I could set you up with Mr. Rogers or Captain Kangaroo.”
Diana hated to admit how right Joan was. Owen Freeman excited her as much as dirty laundry. He’d brought her candy, escorted her to a classical music concert and treated her with kindness and respect. He’d even supplied her with letters from his colleagues attesting to his character, just in case she was worried about being alone with him. Maybe Cliff wasn’t so out of line to have mentioned magic. She felt it with him, but she certainly didn’t with Owen Freeman. There were so many frogs out there and so few princes.
“Have you read through his references yet?”
Joan asked.
“Honey, that was a very nice gesture on Mr. Freeman’s part.”
“He’s a geek.”
“Katie, I want you to stop calling him that.”
Her younger daughter shrugged.
Joan spread contact cement across the top of the nail on her little finger. A pile of fake fingernails rested in front of her. “It’s your life, Mom. You know how Katie and I feel about Mrs. Holiday’s cousin, but you do what you want.”
“Well, don’t worry about it—you’re not having dinner with him. I am.”
Joan rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Lucky you.”
Owen arrived a half hour later. He brought Joan and Katie a small stuffed animal each and a small bouquet of flowers for Diana. He really was an exceptionally nice man, but, as Joan had said, so were Mr. Rogers and Captain Kangaroo.
When Owen headed toward Des Moines and the restaurant at the marina, Diana tensed. Of all the places in the south end to eat, he had to choose this one.
“I understand the food here is excellent,”
Owen said once they were seated.
“I’ve heard that, as well,”
Diana said, looking over the top of her menu. Her heart was pumping double its normal rate. She was being silly. There was absolutely no reason to believe she would run into Cliff Howard simply because this restaurant was close to his condominium. No sane reason at all.
Owen ordered a bottle of wine, and Diana nearly did a swan dive into the first glass. Alcohol would help soothe her jittery nerves, she reasoned. After tonight, Diana decided, she would tell Owen that it simply wasn’t going to work. He was such a nice person, and she didn’t want to lead him on when there was no reason to believe anything would ever develop between them. Her mind worked up a variety of ways to tell him, then she decided to take the coward’s way out and leave a voice mail message after he dropped her off following dinner.
“You’re quiet this evening,”
Owen said softly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you tired?”
She nodded. “It’s been a long week.”
Diana turned her head and looked out over the rows and rows of watercraft moored in the marina. Without much trouble, she located Cliff’s forty-foot sloop.
“Do you sail?”
she asked Owen, without taking her eyes from Cliff’s boat.
“No, I can’t say that I do.”
“Fish?”
“No, it never appealed to me.”
Diana pulled her gaze away. Owen was forty, balding and incredibly boring. Nice, but boring.
“I did go swimming once in Puget Sound,”
he said, his voice rising with enthusiasm.
Diana’s smile was genuine. No doubt, Owen saw himself as a real daredevil. “I did, too—once, by accident.”
“Really?”
She nodded, and the silence returned. Finally she said, “I enjoy picnics.”
Owen’s forehead puckered into a brooding frown. “I don’t get much time for outdoor pursuits.”
“I can imagine . . . with school and everything.”
“Bridge is my game.”
“Bridge,”
Diana repeated, amused. Owen Freeman was really quite predictable. “I imagine you’re good enough to play in tournaments.”
The literature professor positively gleamed. “As a matter of fact, I am. Have you ever played?”
“No,”
she admitted reluctantly.
The hostess escorted another couple to the table across from their own. Diana didn’t pay much attention, but the blonde was stunning.
“I would thoroughly enjoy teaching you,”
Owen continued. “Why, we could play couples.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a head for cards.”
Except when it came to her VISA or Mastercard. Then she knew all the tricks.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve just lacked a good teacher, that’s all. I promise to be patient.”
Diana felt someone’s stare. She paused and looked around and didn’t recognize anyone she knew. Taking another sip of her wine, she relaxed. “Is it warm in here? Or is it just me?”
she asked Owen.
“It doesn’t seem to be overly warm,”
Owen responded, and turned around as though to ask the opinion of those sitting at the table closest to their own.
Feeling feverish, Diana frantically fanned her face. It was then that she saw Cliff. The voluptuous blonde she’d noticed a few minutes before sat beside him, her torso practically draped over his arm. Diana’s hand froze in midair as her breath caught in her lungs. Her worst nightmare had just come true. Cliff was dating Miss World, and she was with Captain Kangaroo.