Hot Single Docs: Meeting His Match. Susan Carlisle
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Название: Hot Single Docs: Meeting His Match

Автор: Susan Carlisle

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Контркультура

Серия: Mills & Boon M&B

isbn: 9781474083447

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ sure know where to get a good meal.”

      Lucy smiled as she climbed out of the taxi. When she offered her share of the taxi fare he said, “It’s on me. My idea for the pizza.”

      She didn’t fight him, just waited on the brick sidewalk gone wavy with age. She tensed a second when he lightly touched the curve of her back but she eased just as quickly. As they came to the door of the restaurant, he reached around her to open it.

      “Someone taught you good manners. That’s the second time you’ve opened a door for me.”

      The dull pain that he carried in his chest sharpened for a second. “My father was very old school. He would say, ‘Ryan, my boy, you treat a woman like you want your sisters to be treated. It’s the O’Doherty way.’”

      “Kind of got off track when you first met me, didn’t you?”

      “Hey, I showed you up to the floor.”

      “Yeah, but you would’ve liked to drop me down the elevator shaft.”

      “Was I that bad?”

      She nodded.

      “Then I’ll try to make up for it over dinner, okay?”

      She smiled. “I’ve really gotten over it, so don’t let it worry you.”

      A man who was almost as round as he was tall approached them, his hands outstretched. He asked with a strong Italian accent, “Miss Lucy, how are you today?”

      Her smiled reached her eyes. Ryan felt a hot stab of jealousy. What would it take to have her smile at him like that? He wasn’t going to analyze that thought.

      “Mr. Volpentesta, I’m doing fine. We would like a table.”

      “Anything for you, my dear.”

      Ryan gave her a quizzical look. The wait even on weeknights for a table at Volpentesta’s was long and she’d just waltzed in without a reservation.

      The restaurant was an authentic Italian bistro right down to the red checked cloths and the candle on the table. The room was dark enough to make for a pleasing ambiance but not so dim that he couldn’t appreciate Lucy’s incredibly expressive face.

      She wore little make-up. On occasion he’d noticed that she’d applied a gloss to her lips that made them dewy looking. Her hair was always contained by a ribbon or clip or was braided. More than once he’d pictured what it might look like free. She was unique. He’d give her that.

      It had been a long time since he’d found a woman so interesting. She reminded him of Irish coffee. Sweet, fresh cream on top with a stout bite beneath. What kind of magic was this woman conjuring over him?

      “Come this way, my dear.” Mr. Volpentesta led them to a table for two in a far corner of the room.

      “How do you know him?” Ryan said close to her ear.

      “I live upstairs.” She turned and followed the man again.

      “Good choice,” he said, more to himself than her when they were given a cozy spot. What he’d had in mind had been more of a friendly meal than a lovers’ evening. He looked around the room but not finding a better option he accepted his fate. He held her chair out and waited until Lucy was settled before he sat.

      “Your father has left nothing out.” She spread her napkin in her lap.

      “He was a thorough man.”

      “Was?”

      Left no choice, he said, “He died.” He couldn’t keep the heartache out of his voice.

      At her stricken and pitying look, he wished he’d lied. She placed a hand on his forearm and gave him an earnest look. “I’m sorry.”

      Her touch and concern diminished his feeling of loss for a moment. For the first time he actually felt comforted by another human being. Why was it that this Southern belle touched more than just his arm? “I’m doing fine.”

      Mercifully, the waiter came to take their order and bought them a bottle of house wine. Ryan wasn’t surprised when Lucy ordered a salad. When the waiter left he leaned forward and said, “Do you have any idea on how many levels of wrong it is to order a salad in a place like this?”

      “I’m just not that hungry.”

      He gave her a speculative look. “If I were to guess, you haven’t been eating like you should.”

      She shrugged and toyed with her silverware.

      “Not going to comment on that one?”

      “No,” she said with less zeal than she had earlier, confirming he’d been correct.

      He fished for something to keep the conversation going that wasn’t too personal. He didn’t think she’d answer more questions if they were. “So, did you grow up in Atlanta?” That wasn’t as impersonal as he would’ve liked but he wanted to know more about her.

      “Sort of, but mostly at a boarding school in northeast Georgia.”

      He cocked his head in question.

      “My parents divorced. It was easier to send Alexis and me off than to take care of us.”

      His mother had died when he’d been young. Before his father had gotten too sick he’d been there to take care of Ryan and his sisters. They had never doubted that they were wanted and loved. “Alexis?”

      “My twin sister.”

      “So you’re a twin. Interesting. I bet you’re close. My father said more than once that ‘Family’s everything. Without family you have nothing.’”

      Clouds formed in her eyes. “I guess for some that’s true,” she said, sounding more resigned than wistful.

      But not for her? “I shouldn’t have said that.” He took a swallow of his wine. The melancholy in her voice made him wish he’d not quoted his father.

      “Alexis and I had each other. We were our own family...” She let the words trail off.

      He had to find another subject. “You know, it turns out we’re a better team than I anticipated.”

      “Even as slowly as I speak, I’m still worthwhile.” She smirked.

      Despite her making fun of him, he enjoyed her quick mind. “Truthfully, I like your accent. Makes me think of lazy, hot days and ice-cold drinks.”

      She blinked then her eyelids fluttered down. “Now you’re embarrassing me.” She looked at him. “You know something about me. How about telling me about you?”

      “Brooklyn, and more Brooklyn. Med school NYU, intern Angel’s, Angel’s today.”

      “I see. The source of your clipped dialect, with a hint of Irish burr occasionally.”

      “Guilty. My СКАЧАТЬ