“Let’s go with that.”
“All right. I know just the place. Terrific food, casual atmosphere, reasonable prices.”
“Sounds great. I’ll follow you there.” The way he felt in that moment, he’d follow her anywhere.
* * * *
Flipper liked the Crab Trap Seafood House as soon as he saw all the fish, shrimp, crab, and scallops displayed market-style in a glass case near the hostess station.
“They do a brisk business with customers who like their main course fresh off the boat but want to take it home and cook it themselves,” Tara pointed out. “And they also sell prepared appetizers and side dishes to go. The she-crab soup here is the best I’ve ever eaten.”
Flipper put his name on the waiting list and led her to one of the few empty tables in the bar. He ordered a beer on tap, while she requested an amaretto sour.
“You come here often?” he inquired after their server left.
“We used to. But I haven’t since…” Her face flushed and her eyes glistened before she swiped away the moisture and blamed it on allergies.
She didn’t fool Flipper. “What’s his name? Stan? Stu? Slimeball?”
Tara snickered, and Flipper took heart at seeing amusement replace the pain etched on her face.
“His name’s Steven. Steven Christianson. But slimeball’s more accurate. I have no idea why I’m getting teary-eyed over the buffoon. After what he did to me, he certainly doesn’t deserve any more of my emotional energy.”
“Had you been together long?”
“Not quite three years. When we decided to live together about a year ago, he hinted about buying me an engagement ring for Valentine’s Day, but I got a weak excuse and a grocery-store bouquet instead. I should’ve realized then it wouldn’t work. But I already had so much invested in the relationship that I couldn’t bring myself to give up on us.”
Flipper’s compassionate expression must’ve unnerved her because Tara grabbed her drink when it arrived at the table and sucked down half of it before he’d taken his first sip of beer.
“Thirsty?” he asked with a hint of a smile.
She blushed again. “Apparently so. You’d think I’d have gotten over his betrayal by now.”
“Not necessarily. Do you still love him?”
“God, no. In fact, now I wonder what I ever saw in him and why I didn’t realize his true character sooner. I’m usually more perceptive than that. I think that’s why what happened still rankles me. I certainly don’t miss him.”
“Love can make even the most intelligent person feel like a complete and utter dolt.”
She smiled, looking more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her and also more alluring in the flickering light from the candle on the table. Flipper would’ve liked to blame his sudden light-headedness on the beer, but he still had almost a full glass.
“So what about you?” Tara asked, breaking the spell. “Ever had your heart split in two? Or are you the type who leaves weeping women in your wake?”
Flipper had to weigh his options before answering. If he told the truth, she might mistake him for a lovesick loser. If he fibbed and went with his usual shtick, she’d probably peg him for as big an asshole as her cheating ex-boyfriend. The bigger issue, of course, was why he even cared what she thought. But he did—there, he’d admitted it. He opted for an answer somewhere in the middle.
“I’m happy being single, and I’m upfront about that with all the women I date, so there are no misunderstandings or hurt feelings when it’s over.”
She frowned at him. “So you’ve never been in love?”
“I thought I was once, but it was a false alarm.”
“What does that mean?”
“Before I got in too deep, it became obvious we weren’t a good match. She helped me realize we’re better off as friends.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?” Flipper gazed at her in expectation.
“I could’ve sworn you were the love ’em and leave ’em type.”
That hurt more than he cared to consider, even though he usually fostered that misconception. Something about Tara almost compelled him to admit he’d be open to settling down if he found the right woman. Almost, but not quite.
“What gave you that impression about me?” he asked.
“Your reputation as a flirt proceeds you.”
“Is that so? Funny that I’ve never flirted with you, before tonight.”
Anger and insult flared in her eyes, but then she smirked at him.
“You were pretty friendly the first time we met. That is, until you found out who I was.”
“What are you talking about?” he challenged.
“Don’t you remember? I was watching you work with the two older dolphins and you came over to the rail where I was standing, all smiles and boyish charm. I asked what you were doing, and you explained you were training them for the aquarium’s swim with the dolphins program. When I expressed the opinion that those programs are crassly commercial and exploitive, you suddenly weren’t so welcoming. And then when you found out I’d cofounded SWADS, your tone turned so chilly I wished I’d brought a down jacket.”
“I don’t see how you can blame me for that.”
“I don’t. But it makes me wonder why in the world I agreed to come here with you tonight. Obviously, you aren’t being entirely honest with yourself or with me about your true feelings. Either that or you have a hidden agenda for spending time with me.”
When he just stared at her, she slugged down the rest of her cocktail and stood.
“Thanks for the drink, but this was a bad idea.”
Flipper jumped up, too, and let his regret show. He put his hand on her arm, not surprised when she recoiled at his touch, and mustered every bit of sincerity he possessed.
“Tara, please don’t go. I really want us to have a nice meal together.”
“Why? What’s the point?”
“Despite everything, I enjoy your company. Maybe too much. And that makes me very edgy and leads me to say things and behave in a way I wouldn’t otherwise.”
“And that’s precisely why this is so ill-advised. Because I like you, too, even though I’ve done my best to resist. But it’s not as though we can ever be friends. Or anything else, for that matter.”
“It’s only dinner. I promise I won’t try to lure you over to the dark side, at least not until we’ve had dessert.”
He grinned, so did she, and they both sat back down. While somewhat shaky, a truce was a truce.
“Fine, I’ll give you another chance,” Tara told him. “But you have to promise to mind your manners.”
“I will if you will.”
“When haven’t I?”
“I thought we weren’t going to argue anymore.”
“I’m not…okay, fine. We’ll both be the picture of propriety.”
“I’ll drink to that.” He tapped his half-full glass against her empty one. “You want another amaretto sour?”
“No, thank you. Something tells me I’d better keep my wits about me tonight.”
Chapter 7
Tara intended to order the least expensive entrée on the menu until Flipper badgered her into changing her mind.
“You can do better than that,” he chided. “I know you want the lobster tail or the broiled grouper platter at the very least.”
The server looked at her with raised eyebrows, but she ignored him.
“This isn’t going on a Gulf Shore Aquarium expense account, is it?” she asked Flipper. “Because I wouldn’t feel right about that.”
“Of course not. I don’t think my boss would find that very amusing, although it would serve him right for ducking your calls and foisting your letters off on me.”
“Foisting? Really?”
“Okay, poor choice of words.”
“Would you two like more time to decide?” the server asked, his impatience evident.
“I think we’re ready to order,” Flipper replied. “I’ll have
the blackened tuna steaks with coleslaw and a baked potato.”
“And I’ll have grilled salmon with wild rice and the vegetable medley,” Tara added.
As the server collected their menus and walked away, she tried to pick up the thread of conversation, but Flipper changed the subject.
“Where’d you grow up, and how’d you end up in Orlando?”
Tara flashed an enigmatic smile. “You can’t tell by my accent?”
“What accent?”
“Precisely.”
His baffled expression amused her. In fact, the man himself delighted her when they weren’t picking at each other over his job and her cause. Once again she found herself wishing they’d met under different circumstances. But he couldn’t change what he was any more than she could.
“I’ll play along, mystery lady. What do you call a soft drink?”
“Soda.”
“Soda or soooda?”
She laughed. “Just one syllable. Now you tell me.”
“Growing up, I called everything coke.”
“Even when you were drinking root beer?”
“Yep. Everything was coke, lowercase.”
“And now?”
“After the first few times a server brought a Coke when I wanted a Dr. Pepper, I learned to specify. Okay, here’s another one. Do you refer to a small stream of water as a creek or a crick?”
“Creek, of course.”
“Me, too. What do you call your maternal grandmother?”
“Grandma. You?”
“Mimi. How do you address a group of two or more people?”
“My neighbors said you-uns, but my mother frowned on that expression.”
“Uh, okay. My people say y’all.”
“Hmm. What kind of shoes are you wearing now?”
Flipper looked at his feet and then at her. “Tennis shoes. What do you call them?”
“Sneakers. All right, one more.”
“Make it a good one.”
“Of course. What’s the term for the gunk that gathers in the corners of your eyes overnight?”
“Eye booger.”
She made a sour face. “That’s certainly crude.”
“And what do you call it, Madam Etiquette?”
“Sleep.”
“Sleep? Seriously?”
“It’s a good deal better than”—she turned up her nose—“eye booger.”
“I think that’s pretty descriptive. I mean, you say those two words and everyone knows what you mean.” She shook her head, still unconvinced. “Anyway, based on everything you’ve just told me, Tara, I’d say you’re from Snob City.”
“What? I am not a snob, Paul O’Riley.”
“We’re back to Paul, are we? Okay, how about Snootyburgh?”
“Flipper.” Her tone carried a warning.
“Uppityville?”
The corners of her mouth quirked. “Are you finished?”
“Almost. Haughty Valley? Pompous Place?”
“Keep it up and Comedy Central will be calling.”
“You can’t deny you sometimes sound like you have a big board wedged up your butt.”
“I most certainly do not!” He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, perhaps I do, especially when I’m feeling off-balance and lapse back into ingrained habits. My mother was an English teacher who abhorred slang and insisted on proper diction. I never even dared utter a curse word until after I went away to college.”
“That explains a lot.”
Tara flashed him a fake smile and continued. “She wanted in the worst way for me to major in English language and literature. I’ve always felt like a disappointment to her. She takes great satisfaction in comparing me to my younger sister, who buckled under to the pressure and followed in Mother’s footsteps. If you think I have a proper way of speaking, you should meet Caroline. Even I think she’s a bore. She married an equally tedious math teacher, and they have two oddly spiritless children who never have snotty noses, sticky fingers, stained clothing, or skinned knees. My mother is beside herself with pride.”
“Your household must’ve been some fun while you were growing up.”
“You have no idea.”
“What about your father?”
“He was a high school principal preoccupied with upholding an image, so he and my mother were a united front. Now, back to our original topic. It’s my turn to do you.”
He winked at her. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“I didn’t mean it that way! Stop laughing. And you wonder why I tend to avoid the vernacular.”
That made him laugh harder. She tried not to smile but couldn’t help it.
“Just for that,” she told him, “I’m going to guess you’re a native of the Isle of Fools.”
“Cute.”
“New Port Ninny? Buffoon Beach? Cape Cretin? Ooh, ooh, I know. Simpleton.”
Flipper gave her an indulgent look.
“Or how about—”
He leaned forward and silenced her with a kiss. Tara’s mind short-circuited, and she clung to his shoulders when he started to pull away. He cupped the back of her head and teased her mouth open with his tongue. Swept up in the moment, she briefly forgot who and where they were until the server plunked two beverages in front of them. They broke apart with a start, and as reality intruded once more, she feigned interest in her place setting and the small bowl of lemons for their iced tea.
“Tara, honey, look at me,” he coaxed.
She spread her napkin over her lap instead. He reached across the table and, with gentle but firm pressure beneath her chin, lifted her head.
“Don’t be so freaked out. It was just a kiss,” he soothed.
“Oh, sure. First it was just dinner, now it’s just a kiss. What’s next?”
“Depends on what you want to happen?”
“Nothing, that’s what I want to happen. Flipper, what are we doing?”
“We’re having a nice time. Or at least we were until you started overthinking things again.”
“Overthinking? I’m not so sure my brain’s been engaged at all.” She ran a nervous hand through her hair.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Isn’t it? There’s only one way this can end, and that’s badly. I’ve already endured one failed romance this year. I don’t think I could stand another one.”
Flipper took her busy hand and held it still. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself? You’re acting like we woke up in bed together after a night of scream-so-loud-you-piss-off-the-neighbors sex.”
The highlight reel in her mind made Tara’s girl parts leap up and shout, “Hallelujah!” Her tongue, on the other hand, seemed Super-Glued to the roof of her mouth. Staring at him was the best she could do at the moment.
“What? No snappy comeback?”
She shook her head.
“Well, that’s disappointing.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and he peered at her with so much concern it made her nerves flutter.
“What’s going on inside that head of yours right now?” he asked.
Tara had become so parched her throat hurt, and she attacked her tea like someone lost in the desert without a drop to drink.
“Hey, listen, I’m sorry if I offended you.”
She set down her glass. “You didn’t. It’s just that…”
Seconds stretched into a minute and then longer. And still he waited, clearly giving her time to get her words together. Just say it, the voice inside her head ordered. What’s the worst that can happen? Tara thought the voice must’ve taken leave of its senses to ask such a ludicrous question. But the next thing she knew, the words were flying out of her mouth and it was too late to stop them.
“It occurs to me that I’m closing in on thirty-four and I’ve never experienced sex like that. To be honest, I’m feeling cheated.”
It was Flipper’s turn to be rendered mute. But then a devilish smile spread across his handsome face, leaving her girl parts on th
e verge of a full-blown frenzy.
“Are you…asking me to help you fix that?” he ventured.
Tara felt her cheeks warm and her breasts grow heavy. How could she be so flustered and aroused at the same time?
“Oh my Lord, I said that out loud, didn’t I?” She wished she could crawl under the table and stay there forever. Or at least until he’d left the restaurant. “Quit smiling, damn you.”
“I can’t help it. And you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Is that so? You’re the last person who needs to know something like that about me.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you something equally personal?”
“No. Maybe. Heavens, I don’t know.” She struggled to regain her composure.
“Let’s try it and see. After we spent the night together for the first time, a former girlfriend finally admitted, to herself and to me, that she wasn’t sexually attracted to men. How’s that for a swift shot to the nuts? The worst part was, I never saw it coming.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “How awful for you. Were you in love with her?”
“I was headed in that direction. I’d had a thing for her for at least a year before she agreed to go out with me, and we’d been dating for months. She never meant to hurt me, but at the time that was little consolation. I was pretty upset with her until I realized how difficult it had been for her to come to terms with her sexuality, let alone confide in someone else.”
“Did you stay in touch?”
“We worked together then and still do. She insisted we remain friends, but for a while I didn’t think I could do it. Seeing her so often was like having my favorite food set in front of me and then being forbidden to have even a taste.”
“And now?”
“Now we’re the best of pals, she’s found the right woman, and I’m still waiting for mine. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve met her already and just haven’t realized it.”
*
Flipper couldn’t believe he’d let that last sentence slip. Where did that idea even come from? All he knew was his brain tended to go on the fritz when he was around Tara, making him say and do unexpected things. Like that kiss, which had been right off the Richter scale. The really telling part was he wanted to do it again. But given the expression on her face, he figured his chances were slim at best. She looked like someone who’d answered the phone at dinnertime to find a telemarketer on the other end.
Shore to Please Page 5