Beth and the Bachelor. Susan Mallery

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      ‘‘How about a Cosmopolitan,’’ Todd offered. ‘‘I think you’ll like it.’’

      ‘‘Fine.’’

      He ordered that for Beth and a Tanqueray on the rocks for himself.

      They sat in silence for a few minutes, until the drinks were delivered. Beth stared at the reddish-pink liquid in the martini glass. ‘‘I was worried about not being sophisticated, but I guess my drink is sophisticated enough for the both of us.’’ She took a sip, then pressed her lips together. ‘‘Actually it’s very nice. Thank you for suggesting it.’’

      ‘‘You’re welcome.’’

      The waiter hovered. ‘‘Would madame and monsieur like to hear about the specials?’’

      What Todd wanted was a few minutes of conversation with Beth…alone. But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. ‘‘Sure,’’ he said.

      The well-trained server spoke about the appetizer of the day, then the soup. Todd watched as Beth visibly blanched at the mention of bone marrow flan as an accompaniment with the boeuf du jour.

      When the waiter had left them to discuss their choices, she swallowed hard. ‘‘Did he really say bone marrow flan?’’

      ‘‘It’s just a side dish with the roast beef.’’

      ‘‘Just a side dish. Great. Maybe I could get my entrée delivered on a plate that has never been contaminated by bone marrow anything.’’ She shuddered. ‘‘I was going to tease you by saying I just wanted a hamburger, but I wouldn’t trust this place with something like that. Who knows what they would put in it.’’

      He grinned. ‘‘The salmon seems safe enough.’’

      ‘‘Right. It’s probably decorated with little fish teeth.’’

      ‘‘I don’t think fish have teeth.’’

      ‘‘Sharks do.’’

      ‘‘Then don’t order the shark.’’

      Her gaze held his. Despite her complaints, he could see the humor lurking in her eyes. ‘‘I don’t get out much,’’ she said. ‘‘But you get out way too much.’’

      ‘‘Maybe.’’

      ‘‘There’s enough jewelry in this room to send my daughter’s entire grade to college for four years.’’

      He glanced around the room. He hadn’t noticed before, but Beth was right. Many of the women wore large, glittering stones set in earrings, bracelets and necklaces. In contrast Beth was simply dressed. Her only jewelry was a pair of pearl earrings.

      ‘‘It’s okay to state the obvious,’’ she told him. ‘‘I don’t fit in here.’’

      ‘‘Of course you belong here,’’ he said automatically, and knew it was a lie. Even though he didn’t want her to be, he knew she was right. ‘‘I should have planned something different,’’ he said, then realized he hadn’t planned this at all. He’d asked his secretary to make reservations somewhere nice. He hadn’t cared enough to participate in the planning more than that. But now he was sorry. He wanted Beth to be having a better time.

      ‘‘We could start a food fight,’’ he offered. ‘‘That would change the atmosphere.’’

      ‘‘I don’t let my kids do that at home, so I’m not going to let you do that here.’’ She pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. ‘‘Excuse me, Todd. I’ll be right back.’’

      He watched her cross the carpeted floor as she headed for the ladies’ room. If someone had told him just three hours ago that he would actually care about the outcome of his blind date with a middle-aged housewife, he would have laughed in his face. But now he found himself in the uncomfortable position of wanting to make Beth happy for the evening and not having a clue as to how to make that happen.

      * * *

      Beth told herself to keep breathing but the instruction wasn’t helping. She could feel herself panicking. She didn’t belong in this restaurant. ‘‘Or with that man,’’ she murmured, trying to ignore the fact that the lounge of the ladies’ room was not only better decorated than her house, it was also about the same size as her living room.

      The walls were papered in an expensive print and the furniture looked custom-made. She didn’t want to think about how nice the actual bathroom area might be. It was all too depressing.

      She faced the mirror and pretended to fix her makeup. Several women came and went as she wasted time and tried to gather the courage to face Todd Graham again. What on earth must he think of her? Not only was she completely unprepared to be anyone’s date, let alone that of a notorious bachelor like himself, but she’d put her foot in her mouth at least a half dozen times. She still couldn’t believe that she’d confessed she might throw up in the car, or the fuss she’d made about the menu not having prices, or her horror at the mention of bone marrow flan. Of course the latter explained why so many rich women were thin. If that’s all they had to eat, starvation was a far more pleasant state of being.

      He probably thought she’d never been outside of the Sugar Land city limits, let alone out of the state. Her only saving grace was that she didn’t actually have hay in her hair.

      They had nothing in common. She’d suspected they wouldn’t. But suspecting and knowing were two very different states of mind. She’d never felt so out of place in her life. These people were different. Even the waiter in timidated her. The worst part was Todd was being so nice. If he’d stayed true to character—a jerk only interested sleeping with young women—she might have survived the experience. But he was kind and funny and that made her want to make a good impression on him. Something that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

      If only he weren’t so rich…or so good-looking. If only she hadn’t felt heat clear down to her ankles when he’d pulled her hand into the crook of his arm. The old-fashioned gallant gesture had made her feel special and important; then his nearness had nearly taken her breath away. For a moment she’d felt sixteen again, and about as polished.

      She gazed at her reflection. Men like him weren’t interested in women like her. Plus, she was a widow. She didn’t have any right to be attracted to another man. It was wrong, not to mention indecent and incredibly disloyal. How would she survive drinks, let alone the meal? With her luck, she would choke on the entrée and end up dying right there on the plushly carpeted floor.

      ‘‘I can’t do this,’’ Beth murmured to herself.

      She reached into her small evening bag and pulled out a tissue. Then she wrote quickly. She was rude and insensitive and fifteen different kinds of coward. She was also leaving.

      * * *

      Todd impatiently tapped his fingers against the table. Beth had been gone nearly fifteen minutes. Had something happened? Should he have the waiter send a female member of the staff into the rest room to check on Beth?

      Just as he was about to flag the man over, the waiter appeared and pressed a limp tissue into his hand. ‘‘Madame asked me to give СКАЧАТЬ