J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [197]
And then Mary had gotten hit with some serious compromises herself.
Funny, the first thing she’d thought of when she’d been diagnosed was that it wasn’t fair. She’d watched her mother do the disease thing, had suffered right alongside. So why was the universe requiring her to know firsthand the kind of pain she’d witnessed? It was right then and there that she’d realized there was no quota on misery for people, no quantifiable threshold that once reached, got you miraculously taken out of the distress pool.
“I never wanted to do anything else,” she hedged.
“Then why did you stop?”
“My life changed.”
Thankfully, he didn’t follow up on that one. “Did you like working with handicapped kids?”
“They’re not…they weren’t handicapped.”
“Sorry,” he said, clearly meaning it.
The sincerity in his voice popped the lid off her reserve in a way compliments or smiles never would have.
“They’re just different. They experience the world in a different way. Normal is just what’s average, it’s not necessarily the only way of being, or living—” She stopped, noticing he’d closed his eyes. “Am I boring you?”
His lids lifted slowly. “I love to hear you talk.”
Mary swallowed a gasp. His eyes were neon, glowing, iridescent.
Those had to be contacts, she thought. People’s eyes just didn’t come in that teal color.
“Different doesn’t bother you, does it?” he murmured.
“No.”
“That’s good.”
For some reason, she found herself smiling at him.
“I was right,” he whispered.
“About what?”
“You’re lovely when you smile.”
Mary looked away.
“What’s the matter?”
“Please don’t put on the charm. I’d rather deal with small talk.”
“I’m honest, not charming. Just ask my brothers. I’m constantly putting my foot in my mouth.”
There were more of him? Boy, that’d be a hell of a family Christmas card. “How many brothers do you have?”
“Five. Now. We lost one.” He took a long drink of water, as if he didn’t want her to see his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Thanks. It’s still fresh. And I miss him like hell.”
The waitress arrived with a heavy tray. When the plates were lined up in front of him and Mary’s salad was down on the table, the woman lingered until Hal thanked her pointedly.
He went for the Alfredo first. He sank his fork into the tangle of fettuccine, twisted until a knot of pasta was on the tines, and carried the noodles to his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and added some salt. He tested the strip steak next. Shook on a little pepper. Then he picked up the cheeseburger. It was halfway to his mouth when he frowned and put it back down. He used his fork and knife to take a bite.
He ate like a total gentleman. With an almost dainty air.
Abruptly, he looked at her. “What?”
“Sorry, I, ah…” She picked at her salad. And promptly went back to watching him eat.
“You keep staring at me and I’m going to blush,” he drawled.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I like your eyes on me.”
Mary’s body shimmered to life. And she responded with total grace by launching a crouton into her lap.
“So what are you looking at?” he asked.
She used her napkin to dab at the dressing skid on her pants. “Your table manners. They’re very good.”
“Food is to be savored.”
She wondered what else he enjoyed like that. Slowly. Thoroughly. God, she could just imagine the kind of love life he had. He’d be amazing in bed. That big body, that golden skin, those long, tapered fingers…
Mary’s throat went dry and she made a grab for her glass. “But do you always…eat so much?”
“Actually, the stomach’s off. I’m taking it easy.” He shook a little more salt on the fettuccine. “So you used to work with autistic children, but now you’re at a law firm. What else do you do with your time? Hobbies? Interests?”
“I like to cook.”
“Really? I like to eat.”
She frowned, trying not to imagine him sitting at her table.
“You’re irritated again.”
She waved her hand around. “I’m not.”