The Men of Medicine Ridge - Diana Palmer [26]
He took her hand in his and held it tight. “Don’t start getting flustered,” he chided gently, looking elegant in his dinner jacket and matching slacks. The white shirt had only the hint of ruffles down the front, with its black vest and tie. He was devastating dressed up. Apparently he found her equally devastating, because his glance swept over her from the high heels to the crown of her head. He smiled.
“You look nice, too,” she said shyly.
His fingers locked into hers. “I’m rather glad we aren’t going to be alone tonight,” he murmured dryly as they walked toward the car. “In that dress, you’d tempt a carved statue.”
“I’m not taking it off for you,” she told him. “You’re a confirmed bachelor.”
“Change my mind,” he challenged.
Her heart jumped and she laughed. “That’s a first.”
“Tonight is a first,” he pointed out as they paused beside the passenger door. He looked at her with slow, sensuous appraisal. “Our first date, Natalie.”
She colored. “So it is.”
He opened the door. In the back seat, Vivian and Whit broke apart quickly, and Vivian laughed in a high-pitched tone, pushing back her short blond hair.
“Hi, Nat!” Vivian said cheerfully, sounding totally unlike the very stressed woman who’d phoned her the day before. “You look terrific.”
“So do you,” Natalie said, and her friend really was a knockout in pale blue silk. Whit was wearing evening clothes, like Mack, but he managed to look slouchy just the same. Vivian didn’t notice. She was clinging to Whit’s arm as if he was a treasure she was fearful of losing.
“I have a black velvet dress, but I wanted something easier to move around in,” Vivian said.
“Velvet’s very nice,” Natalie agreed.
“Very expensive, too,” Vivian added, as if she knew that Natalie hadn’t paid for the dress.
“They do have charge accounts, even for penniless college students,” Natalie pointed out in a tone she rarely used.
Vivian flushed. “Oh. Of course.”
“We aren’t all wealthy, Vivian,” Whit added in a cooler tone. “It’s nice for you, if you can pay cash for things, but we lesser mortals have to make do with time payments.”
“I said I’m sorry,” Vivian said tightly.
“Did you? It didn’t sound very much like it,” Whit said and moved away from her.
Vivian’s teeth clamped shut almost audibly, and she grasped her evening bag as if she’d like to rip it apart.
“Which play are we going to see?” Natalie asked quickly, trying to recover what was left of the evening.
“Arsenic and Old Lace,” Mack said. “The Billings community college drama classes are presenting it. I’ve heard that they are pretty good.”
“Medicine Ridge College has a strong drama department of its own, doesn’t it, Natalie?” Whit asked conversationally. “I took a class in dramatic arts, but I was always nervous in front of an audience.”
“So was I,” Natalie agreed. “It takes someone with less inhibitions than I have.”
“I had the lead in my senior play,” Vivian said coldly.
“And you were wonderful,” Natalie said with a smile. “Even old Professor Blake raved about your portrayal of Stella.”
“Stella?” Whit asked.
“In Williams’s play A Streetcar Named Desire,” Natalie offered.
“One of my favorites,” Whit said, turning to Vivian. “And you played the lead. You never told me that!”
Vivian’s face lit up magically, and for the next few minutes, she regaled Whit with memories of her one stellar performance. In the front seat, Natalie and Mack exchanged sly smiles. With any luck, Natalie’s inspiration could have saved the evening.
The play was hilarious, even if Natalie did find herself involuntarily comparing the performances with those of Cary Grant and Raymond Massey in the old motion picture. She chided herself for that. The actors in the play might be amateurs, but they were very good and the audience reacted to them with hysterical laughter.
Afterward, they went to a nightclub for a late supper. Natalie and Mack ordered steak and a salad, while Whit and Vivian managed to pick the most expensive dishes