Trust Me on This - Jennifer Crusie [18]
“They certainly do. And I wouldn’t dream of criticizing them if you hadn’t made fun of my shoulders.”
“I wasn’t making fun.” Dennie batted her eyes at him. “They’re wonderful shoulders. Shoulders to die for. Shoulders that beg to be wept on. Shoulders—”
“Thank you, that will do,” Alec said. “I may make you pay for dinner after all.”
“Forget it.” Dennie eyed the steaming platter that the waiter put in front of her. “Fighting with you has given me an appetite. I want dessert too.” She looked up sharply as Alec opened his mouth. “Do not say anything juvenile about what you can give me for dessert.”
“Juvenile?” Alec looked up at the waiter. “Is there anything about me that strikes you as juvenile?”
“No, sir,” the waiter said.
“Now ask me,” Dennie said.
“Don’t,” Alec said.
“So, about your aunt,” Dennie began again.
Alec closed his eyes. This was what he wanted, Dennie making a move on Victoria. It would have been really bad if she’d made a move on him instead. They’d never nail her for fraud if all she did was seduce him. He opened his eyes. “Are you sure you’re giving up sex?”
“Positive,” Dennie said. “When can I meet your aunt?”
Across the room, Victoria was having her own trauma.
“Well, this is certainly pleasant,” Donald Compton said, beaming at her across the snowy linen of the tablecloth.
Pleasant, Victoria thought. I’m sixty-two years old. Screw pleasant. I want exciting.
Donald consulted with the waiter on the wine list. He looked wonderful consulting with the waiter. Handsome, distinguished, debonair. They made a nice couple, Donald and the waiter. Maybe she should leave them alone. After all, Donald and the waiter had so much more in common than Donald and she did.
Donald and she. Ugly little phrase. She speculated aimlessly about a future with Donald. Donald and she would buy property on the Cape; the exclusive section, of course. Donald and she would vacation in Belize; he’d want someplace not spoiled by the tourist trade. Donald and she would drive a Mercedes; it would be the only car that didn’t clash with his Rolex.
Donald and she, Victoria decided, were doomed as a couple. He hadn’t even cracked the wine, and already she was making fun of him.
Donald turned back to her and toasted her with his glass. It was full. He and the waiter must have achieved climax while she was daydreaming.
“To you,” he said. “You look elegant.”
Elegant. Wonderful. “You too.” She raised her glass to him and then looked past him and saw Alec. He was leaning toward a brunette, but all Victoria could see of the woman was the back of a head full of glossy dark curls. Alec smiled, and Victoria thought, How can she resist him? He has the family charm.
“Victoria?”
“Hmmm?” Victoria looked at her glass, still in midair. “Oh, yes. To both of us. Elegant. Absolutely.” She drank her wine and remembered what Janice had said about risking. The only thing she was risking by being with Donald Compton was death from boredom.
Donald began to tell her about a wonderful real estate investment a man he’d met in the bar that afternoon had told him about. Victoria began to tune him out and then remembered what Alec had said.
“What’s this man’s name?” she asked. “Tell me all about him.”
“This was wonderful,” Dennie said, blotting her mouth again after they’d cruised through their entrées. “Thank you for not making small talk during dinner. It would have ruined everything.”
Alec winced. “You know, you’re not good for my ego.”
Dennie looked apologetic. “That’s not what I meant. I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” He grinned at her. “I feel the same way. Why mess up great food by trying to think about something else?”
“Exactly.” Dennie smiled at him, and his head reeled for a minute.
Concentrate, he told himself. She’s a crook. “About my aunt.” He threw Victoria out like a lifeline.
“I need to talk to her,” Dennie said. “If she’ll help me, I could make it big. Out of the minor leagues, into the majors.”
“The majors?”
“New York.”
“You want to work in New York?” Alec shook his head. “Mistake. Come to Chicago.