Mr. Right Next Door. Arlene James

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СКАЧАТЬ and thank God that’s all! He had the brass to try to pull off an overnight stay at the inn, which is why I told him that I already had plans.”

      “Uh-huh, and whose idea was the boyfriend?”

      “His, actually. He just sort of jumped to that conclusion, and I let him think I had one in hopes it would make him think twice about planning any more overnight jaunts. Then he insisted that I bring you along for dinner. I mean, the boyfriend, not you necessarily. It’s just that I don’t know anyone else around here that I could ask to pretend with me. You do understand?”

      He smiled then, but rather perfunctorily. “Sure. No problem.”

      She sighed, a hand pressed to her chest. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

      “Hey, it’s no biggie. I like the Ozark Springs Inn.”

      “Oh, good. I’ve never been myself, but now I can look forward to it. Oh, I should tell you that it’s primarily a business dinner. We’ve brought on a new retailer, and the company rep will be there with us.”

      Morgan nodded thoughtfully. “That’s fine. Is it just the four of us then?”

      She pulled a face. “Chuck apparently doesn’t bring his wife along to these things. Uh, Chuck, that’s my boss.”

      Morgan nodded again. “Makes sense. No doubt having the little wife along would cramp his style.”

      “No doubt,” Denise agreed drily. “One more thing. I think Chuck’s planning something. When he insisted I bring along this fictitious boyfriend, he had a certain gleam in his eye, like he’s got an ace up his sleeve. Don’t be surprised if he does or says something outrageous.”

      “Something that would make a real boyfriend walk out maybe?” Morgan asked thoughtfully.

      Denise nodded with satisfaction. “That would be my best guess.”

      Morgan shrugged. “No problem.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “I understand sharks like Chuck. Trust me.”

      Oddly, she did. “I can’t thank you enough for this. I’ll be eternally grateful.”

      “Hey, what are friends for?” Straightening, he rubbed his hands together in that exuberant way of his. “Now, can I get you a drink?”

      “Oh, no, thank you. I don’t drink much beyond a glass of wine with my dinner. It just seems to go straight to my head.”

      “Ah, you’re wise to avoid it then.”

      “Yes, well, I’d better go,” she said, growing uncomfortable again. “Smithson will be wanting his dinner.”

      “Speaking of dinner,” he said, coming to his feet at the same instant she did, “what time Friday should I be ready?”

      “I don’t really know. The reservations are for seventhirty, but as I’ve never been to the inn, I can’t say how long it will take us to get there.”

      “It’s quite a drive,” he said, “about forty minutes. How about if I pick you up around a quarter to seven?”

      “Oh, you don’t have to pick me up.”

      “Nonsense. I’m your date, remember. How would it look if your boyfriend just met you there?”

      “Yes, I guess that wouldn’t make quite the right impression. We can take my car, if you like.”

      “Nah, I’ll just back the old Mercedes out of the garage. It doesn’t get much use anymore. The drive will do it good.”

      “All right, if you’re sure.”

      “My pleasure.”

      She turned and walked into the entry hall, saying, “You’ve been out to the Inn. What should I wear? Would a cocktail dress be too much?”

      “No, I don’t think so. I assume half the purpose of this dinner is to impress the new client, so to speak.”

      “Right. Well, then, I’ll see you Friday.”

      “Friday,” he said, opening the door for her.

      She strolled out onto the porch. Dusk was already deepening into night. The smell of wood smoke permeated the chill. “Your home is lovely,” she told him in parting.

      “Thanks.” He leaned a shoulder against the door frame and slid his hands into his pockets watching her as she descended the stairs to the walkway.

      She sent him a last smile and hurried toward her apartment, wondering why her heart was again beating with such quick intensity. But this was not dread. This was... Dare she call it anticipation? And why not? Something told her that she’d just checkmated old Chuck, and come Friday, he’d know it. She was humming when she let herself into the apartment. She hummed all the way to Friday.

      

      She opened the door to a kind of casual elegance she’d seldom seen in a man, and for a moment it held her spellbound. Perhaps it was the simplicity of a pale gray crewneck sweater worn beneath a gray silk jacket above classic black, pleated trousers. Or perhaps what held her spellbound was the way the grays shamelessly brought out the silver at his temples and the electric blue of his eyes; or maybe it was the slightly tousled look of his hair, worn short and sleek and sharply tailored, except in the very front, where it parted uncertainly in the middle and fell in two curving locks to his eyebrows. He looked relaxed and, at the same time, groomed within an inch of his life and utterly, totally male.

      She didn’t know how long she might have stood there and stared if he hadn’t done a slow once-over, taken a step back and exclaimed, “Wow!”

      She felt her own perusal turned back at her and literally blushed. She really didn’t want him to know how much time she had spent getting ready for this make-believe event, and yet she was glad that she hadn’t played down her appearance. The little red crepe slip dress with its gently flared skirt that swirled softly several inches above her knees was simple but classic. With spaghetti straps, it was a little light for a cool autumn evening, but she had augmented it with a long, clingy wrap of red organza, which at the moment was draped loosely about her shoulders and arms, hanging down almost to the tops of her red velvet heels and calling attention, she hoped, to slender ankles encased in the sheerest of black stockings. She hadn’t known quite what to do with her hair, whether to wear it down or rolled into a classic French twist. In the end, she’d settled for something in between, a loose chignon pinned at the crown of her head with lots of long tendrils floating down around her face and shoulders. Her only jewelry consisted of pearl drops at her earlobes, a teensy gold chain about her throat and a pearl and rhinestone brooch that she wore pinned in her hair.

      Apparently she had done well. Perhaps she had even overdone it. Morgan certainly seemed to find her appearance more than merely acceptable, and, for some reason, that sent a thrill down the back of her neck all the way to her toes. At least she hadn’t outdone him, and to let him know that she fully appreciated that fact, she said to him, “You look wonderful!” at the same exact moment that he said it to her. Then they both laughed and said, “Thank СКАЧАТЬ