The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [23]
Earrings. Which pair of earrings? Come on, Bethie, it’s just a date. She grabbed the first gold pair she came to, told herself firmly that they were perfect and headed for the door.
She had not expected to have dinner with Mr. Shandling. It had started out as coffee yesterday evening. He felt so bad at having upset her, and she was too topsy-turvy to resist. So he took her to one of South Street’s little cafés, plied her with cappuccino, and told her stories until the tears dried on her cheeks and she began to smile.
She stopped looking at his side so much. She started listening to his words more. Tales of travel to Ireland, England, Austria. Scuba diving off the coral reefs of Australia, shopping for precious gems in Hong Kong. He had a rich baritone voice, perfect for spinning fabulous tales and in the end, while she wasn’t sure if one man could have really done all those things, she found that she didn’t care. She liked listening to him talk. She liked watching the corner of his sparkling blue eyes crinkle every time he grinned. She liked the way he looked at her, as if his sole purpose in life was to make her happy.
He’d asked her to dinner the very next night. She hemmed and hawed. It was moving so fast, she really didn’t know . . .
He was only in town for a week. Surely one dinner couldn’t hurt. . . . She’d caved in with a yes. He’d chosen Zanzibar Blue, a renowned jazz club and one of her favorite restaurants. She’d promised to meet him there.
Bethie was not a complete neophyte to dating; she read Cosmo. On a first date, always arrive on your own, therefore you can leave anytime you choose. Don’t give out too much personal information, such as your home address, right away. Get to know the person first. Just because a man was well dressed and charming didn’t mean he was safe. Just ask her ex-husband, Pierce.
Bethie flagged down a taxi, and took the short ride up to Zanzibar’s.
Tristan Shandling was waiting for her outside the club. Tonight he wore black pleated slacks with a plum-colored shirt and strikingly patterned silver and turquoise tie. In deference to the hot, muggy weather, he’d eschewed a jacket. With his hands tucked comfortably into his pockets, one foot crossed over the other, he looked dignified, handsome, and totally in control. Bethie took one look at him and promptly wished she’d gone with the little black dress. This man shouldn’t be dating some middle-aged mother. A man like him should be meeting some bubble-gum blonde, some little bit of arm candy.
She got out of the cab, self-consciously fingering her matronly skirt. Tristan turned, spotted her, and promptly beamed. “Elizabeth! I’m so happy you made it.”
For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She stood there silently, clutching her small black purse while his eyes crinkled and he held out his arm to her. Her breath had caught in her chest.
He was still smiling, his blue eyes patient and kind. He knew, she realized abruptly. He understood that she was nervous and by grinning so effusively, he was trying to make things easier for her.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she managed.
He waved away her apology, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. He patted her fingers, which she knew must feel like ice. “Jazz is my favorite,” he told her amiably as he escorted her to the doors and the first notes of bluesy horns washed over them. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I love jazz,” she volunteered. “It’s always been my favorite as well.”
“Really? Davis or Coltrane?”
“Davis.”
“‘ ’Round Midnight’ or ‘Kind of Blue’?”
“‘ ’Round Midnight,’ of course.”
“Ahh, I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were a woman of impeccable taste. Of course, then you agreed to go out with me and cast my whole theory in doubt.” He winked.
She found herself finally smiling back. “Well, there’s no rule that says you can’t enjoy water as well as wine,” she said more gamely.
“Dear heavens, have I just been insulted?”
“I don’t know. Depends if you’re water or wine. I guess