The 39-Year-Old Virgin. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ supposed she could see her cousin’s point. But she still wondered about Nancy’s marriage. “Patrick’s all right with you coming here?”

      “I’m not out trolling for men, Claire-bear,” Nancy informed her with a grin. “I’m just here strictly as an observer. Not to mention that he does think I’ve gone to IHOP to meet you.”

      “Really?”

      “No, I’m just kidding.” Nancy laughed. “Patrick knows where I am. We have no secrets from each other. And besides,” she added seriously, “he trusts me. We trust each other. I guess I’m one of the lucky ones.”

      Even as she said it, Nancy suddenly looked alert.

      Claire scanned the area, expecting to see someone heading their way. But there was no one approaching their table. “What?”

      “My phone’s vibrating.” Nancy pulled the phone out of her pocket. With a finger in one ear, Nancy placed the cell phone against her other one. “Hello? Yes, it’s me. Okay, don’t worry, it’s all right. I’ll be right there, honey.”

      “There?” Claire asked as Nancy shut the phone and put it back in her pocket. “Where’s ‘there’?”

      “Home,” Nancy told her. “One of the twins ran into the refrigerator door just as the other one swung it open. She cut her lip,” Nancy told her, glancing around the floor for her purse. Locating it, she pulled it up and placed it in front of her on the table. “Patrick gets faint at the sight of blood.” She looked apologetic as she added, “I’m sorry to be cutting the evening short.”

      Claire waved away the apology. This gave her an excuse to leave and she was grateful for it. “That’s okay, I think I’m really ready to go.”

      Nancy looked at her in surprise, then realized the reason for the confusion. “Oh, no, I meant me. You stay, Claire.”

      Claire said the first thing that came to her head. “You might need a nurse, and I do have a degree, you know.”

      Nancy stopped for a second and smiled at her even as she shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, Claire, but after four kids, nursing has become second nature to me. Besides, we can’t both leave.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because Amy, Tess and Kelly will wonder what happened.” Her cousin rose and stood beside her for a second. “Look, I know you’re antsy, but just stay a little longer. At least until one of them comes back to the table.” She nodded toward the empty chairs. “Until then, you have to guard the purses.”

      Claire sighed. She’d forgotten about that. “Okay, but the second one of them comes back, I’m leaving.”

      “Whatever you want,” Nancy agreed. “Next time,” she promised, “you get to pick the place.”

      Because she didn’t want to detain her cousin any longer, Claire nodded. But there wasn’t going to be a “next time.” Not for a while, anyway. After one venture, she knew she wasn’t ready for this. She needed to get used to the rest of her life first, get comfortable in her responsibilities and new routine. Then—maybe—she’d think about going to a place like Saturday Night and Sunday Morning to meet men.

      And then again, maybe not.

      Claire looked at Nancy as the latter pushed her chair in. “Give me a call and tell me how she’s doing when you get a chance.”

      Clutching her purse, Nancy leaned over the table and gave her hand a squeeze. “Will do. And try to have a good time while you’re still here.”

      Claire forced a smile to her lips. “I’ll do my best.”

      “Do better,” Nancy instructed, then hurried off. And Claire felt very alone.

      How long did these songs last, anyway? she wondered impatiently. Wasn’t it about time at least one of the girls came back?

      “Looks like all your friends deserted you, little lady.”

      Despite the noise, Claire heard the words clearly. Startled, she swung around and discovered a tall man standing directly behind her chair. And he was looking right at her.

      “Not quite,” she replied. “Three of them are on the floor, dancing. My cousin had to leave.”

      “Lucky for me.” He was good-looking in a non-rugged, stockbroker kind of way. If she were to judge, she would have put him in his early forties. You’d think after all that time, he would have learned not to go where he wasn’t invited. But instead, he dropped down into the seat beside her.

      Nancy’s seat, she thought grudgingly. “So, what’s your name, pretty lady?”

      “Claire,” she heard herself saying even though she had a feeling that she should have given him a false name, or, even better, none at all.

      “Claire,” he repeated, nodding his approval. “Nice change from ‘Tiffany’ and ‘Britney,’” he commented. Putting out his hand, he grinned broadly. She couldn’t get the image of a shark out of her head. “I’m Bill.”

      Not shaking his hand would have been rude and she didn’t want to be rude, so she shook it with no enthusiasm and murmured, “Hello, Bill.”

      He kept his hand around hers. “I like the way you say that.”

      Very deliberately, she withdrew her hand from his. “Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not here to mingle.”

      “Oh?” Rather than put off, he seemed pleased. Before she realized what he was doing, he ran the back of his knuckles slowly against her cheek. Stiffening, Claire immediately pulled her head back. “A lady who wants to cut to the chase right off the bat. I like that.”

      “I’m not here to ‘cut to the chase,’” she informed him. “I’m here with my friends to do a little catching up.”

      Instead of backing away, Bill took hold of her wrist and then rose, pulling her up to her feet with him. “Why don’t we teach your friends a lesson and have them come looking for you? My car’s right outside.”

      Obviously, the man refused to take a hint. There was no way she was about to go anywhere with this man. But she still tried to be polite. “No, thank you, I’d rather not.”

      A flash of anger came and went from the dark eyes. His grip on her wrist tightened. “Don’t be a tease, Claire. Men don’t like that.”

      She glared at him. Fear had left, replaced by anger. “And I don’t like being manhandled.”

      “What are you, one of them?” he asked contemptuously.

      She knew where he was going. It might be easier just to agree, to let him think her preference ran toward the softer gender, but that would have been an out-and-out lie. She preferred a shade of gray instead.

      “What I am,” she informed him, tossing her head, “is a nun.” God forgive me for lying.

      “A nun, huh?” The news did not have the desired effect on the man. Rather СКАЧАТЬ