Beth and the Bachelor. Susan Mallery

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      ‘‘I can tell.’’

      ‘‘No, really,’’ she insisted. ‘‘I never thought it would be like this.’’ She motioned to the limo interior, then to him. ‘‘I didn’t think everything would be so nice or that I would be able to talk to you.’’

      ‘‘What were you expecting?’’

      ‘‘I thought you would be kind of a snob, and that you would be angry that I wasn’t some young girl…you know, a bimbo.’’

      Todd couldn’t remember the last time someone had insulted him so completely, all the while apparently unaware of what she was saying.

      ‘‘Oh, no,’’ Beth said quickly. ‘‘You have this tight look on your face. I said something horrible, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’’

      ‘‘I’m not upset,’’ he told her.

      ‘‘Then what?’’

      He looked at her. ‘‘You don’t have a very high opinion of me. So far you’ve implied that I date younger women, that I call them all baby because I can’t remember their names and that they must be bimbos.’’

      Beth covered her face with her hands and made a sound low in her throat. ‘‘I should never be allowed out on my own,’’ she moaned. ‘‘Especially not in a situation like this.’’

      She raised her head and stared at him. Remorse darkened her eyes. ‘‘I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to be insulting. That’s not even what I was thinking. I guess it’s because I don’t think of you as a real person. I mean I’ve read about you in the newspaper and everything. You’re like a movie star or a celebrity—very much larger than life. I don’t think of you as being like everyone else.’’

      He wasn’t sure how to take that. In a way, her opinion was flattering. He liked the fact that she saw him as larger than life, but he didn’t want her to be intimidated. But before he could figure out how to respond to her, the limo pulled to a stop in front of the restaurant.

      Beth glanced out the window, and read the discrete lettering on the awning. ‘‘I’ve heard about this place,’’ she murmured. ‘‘It’s very expensive.’’

      Todd leaned close. ‘‘I can afford it,’’ he whispered.

      She looked at him. Their faces weren’t that far apart and he had the sudden urge to kiss her. Startled by the impulse, he pulled back.

      A uniformed doorman reached for the rear handle and opened the door. Todd stepped out, then paused to assist Beth. He took her hand in his as she stepped out, then released her.

      ‘‘I’m sure you meant to reassure me when you told me you could afford a place like this,’’ she said as she walked next to him toward the double doors. ‘‘But it didn’t work.’’

      ‘‘So you think this would be easier if I was a truck driver or maybe a schoolteacher?’’

      She tilted her head slightly as she thought. ‘‘Maybe. Although I can’t imagine dating ever being fun. But yes, I would like it if you weren’t so…’’

      ‘‘Successful? Rich? Incredibly good-looking?’’ he offered helpfully.

      She came to a stop on the walkway and stared at him. ‘‘Not to mention modest.’’

      But there was a smile tugging at her lips and she wasn’t as tense as she’d been before. Todd bent his arm, then drew her hand up to the crook of his elbow. ‘‘You’ll be fine,’’ he promised. ‘‘I won’t let anything bad happen to you.’’

      ‘‘You don’t know how much I want to believe you.’’

      They headed toward the wide double door. A young woman held it open for them. Once inside, they were greeted by Lucien, the owner of the restaurant, who knew Todd on sight and quickly showed them to their table. Todd nodded at the several patrons with whom he was familiar. For a moment he didn’t know what to do. Should he introduce Beth? If she’d been someone he was dating, he would have paused to talk with his friends. But she wasn’t a real date. She was… He frowned as he realized he didn’t know what she was. A fulfillment of an obligation?

      But as he took the seat across from her and stared into her wide and wary blue eyes, he realized she was much more than an obligation. Despite the fact that he’d dreaded the evening and had wanted to think up an excuse to cancel, now that he was with her, he found himself having fun.

      ‘‘Well, that confirmed everything,’’ she said, when the waiter had placed the napkin on her lap before retreating to give them a few minutes to discuss their drink order. ‘‘What do you mean?’’ Todd asked.

      ‘‘Just that if I hadn’t been completely sure I wasn’t your type, all those interested stares and raised eyebrows just confirmed the truth.’’

      Annoyance threaded through him. Not at her—every-thing about this situation was designed to make her feel uncomfortable—but at his supposed friends who had looked down at her.

      ‘‘Now it’s my turn to apologize,’’ he said. ‘‘I should have picked a different kind of restaurant.’’

      ‘‘Fast food?’’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘‘I assure you, I know which fork to use.’’

      ‘‘Not at all. Just a place where we could get a quiet booth in the back and talk.’’ He motioned to their seats in the center of the room. His usual table put them on display. Normally he enjoyed that, but not tonight.

      He found himself in the unusual position of actually liking Beth. He thought she was bright and funny. She had dreaded their date as much as he had, yet she was being a good sport about everything. He liked that he could hold a conversation with her, which he realized didn’t say much about the other women he dated. He didn’t really think of them as younger, although he was starting to realize that while he’d gotten older over the past fifteen or twenty years, the age of the women he’d dated hadn’t changed at all. Maybe he was going to have to do something about that.

      ‘‘What would you like to drink?’’ he asked Beth.

      She’d opened her menu and was staring at the selection. She leaned toward him. ‘‘There aren’t any prices.’’

      ‘‘I didn’t ask you what anything cost, I asked if you would like a drink.’’

      Her hair was short and layered, with wisps of bangs across her forehead. Perhaps as a child she’d had freckles— most redheads did—but hers had long since faded until her skin was pale and creamy.

      ‘‘But I’ve never ordered from a menu that didn’t have prices,’’ she persisted. ‘‘I have to know how much I’m spending.’’

      ‘‘Why?’’

      She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

      ‘‘Are madame and monsieur ready to order a cocktail?’’ the tuxedo-clad waiter asked as he silently reappeared by their table.

      ‘‘Beth?’’

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