CHAPTER 12
Lance handed Dina his handkerchief after they were seated in his car. He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut when he saw her tear-filled eyes, eyes that reminded him of a lush rain forest, with shadowy hues of browns and greens. She was hurting, in pain, and where he was able to cope with most things, he failed when it came to a woman’s tears.
Dina blotted the corners of her eyes with the square of cotton, taking care not to smudge her carefully applied liner and mascara. She wanted to look her best because she needed Lance Haynes—not for someone she could hustle but as a friend.
“Thank you, Lance” she said, delicately blowing her nose into his handkerchief. Placing a hand on the door handle, she gripped it. “I…I have to go now.” A deep sob choked her entreaty.
Lance panicked. Reaching over, he placed his hand over hers and stopped her from getting out of the car. “Where are you going?”
Dina affected a tortured expression when she turned to look at Lance. “I’m going home. Thanks for your help.”
He faltered in the silence that filled the car. He didn’t want Dina to leave. There was something about her that was different from the other women he’d known. She wasn’t a child, but there was something childlike in her he couldn’t resist. The fact that he knew nothing about her was of no importance, because he wanted to get to know her.
Lance forced a smile. “I did nothing, Dina.”
Her moist lashes fluttered. “You helped me more than you know. Please let me go.”
It was with great reluctance that he nodded. “Where did you park your car?”
“I don’t have a car.”
“How did you get here?”
“I took public transportation.”
Vertical lines appeared between Lance’s eyes. “Where do you live?”
“Irvington.”
“You came all the way from Irvington by public transportation?”
A slow smile found its way over Dina’s lips when she saw his shocked expression. “Why do you make it sound as if I’d walked across Death Valley in the middle of the summer?” A rush of color darkened Lance’s face with her backhanded retort, she finding it endearing. “You’re a snob, Lance Haynes.”
His blush deepened. “No, I’m not! And why would you say that?”
“When was the last time you took public transportation?”
An expression of surprise froze his features. “I…I don’t remember.”
Dina pointed a finger at him. “See. I was right. You are a snob.” She angled her head. “You’re finicky and very particular about where you eat or sleep. You’re probably so obsessive that you check out a chair before you sit down.”
Lance didn’t confirm or deny her assessment of him. “What about restaurants?”
She blinked once. “You only dine in the best restaurants.”
He lifted a light brown eyebrow. “You think?”
Dina nodded. “I know.”
His gaze beamed approval. Dina Gordon was a good judge of character. “If you say I helped you, then I want you to help me.”
“Help you how?” She wasn’t clairvoyant, but she could predict the words that would come out of Lance’s mouth. He wanted to drive her back to Irvington.
“Let me drive you back to Irvington.”
She gave herself a mental check. “What’s the catch?”
“Why does there have to be a catch, Dina?”
“I’ve been told that men who offer to do something for a woman usually want something in return.”
“Who told you that?”
“My grandmother.”
“Well, your grandmother’s wrong, because I won’t ask for anything in return except dinner.”
Her luminous eyes grew larger. “You want me to cook dinner for you?”
“No. I want you to share dinner with me at a restaurant.”
“Are you sure that’s all you want?”
Nodding slowly, Lance glanced down the handkerchief clutched in her hand. Dina was afraid of him, and he wondered whether her fear had anything to do with the man who’d left quickly when he’d returned with her soft drink.
“You don’t trust men, do you?”
“No.”
“Has a man ever hurt you?”
“No, but I’ve seen what they’ve done to other women.”
Stretching out his right arm, he rested it over the back of her seat. “You’re judging all men by a few you’ve known?”
“Yes.”
“You’re too young to be so cynical,” he said softly.
She gave him a shy smile. “Spoken like a wise elder.”
His hand slipped lower as he caressed her hair. “I want you to trust me enough to take you to dinner, then to make certain you get home safely.”
Dina stared up at Lance through her lashes, totally aware of the seductiveness of the gesture when he exhaled audibly. “What guarantee can you give me that I’ll be safe with you?”
The seconds ticked off as Lance and Dina regarded each other. “My word,” he said.
She’d been with enough men to know if she could or couldn’t trust them, but Lance Haynes was one she knew intuitively she could trust. “Do you have a cell phone on you?” He nodded. She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”
His flaring nostrils opened wider. “Why?”
“I’ll give it back after you bring me home.”
Shifting slightly, Lance reached for the cell phone on his waist, handing it to Dina and watching as she slipped it into her purse. “What would you like to eat?”
She’d alternated eating at the diner and ordering from soul food and Chinese take-out restaurants. The meals, though staving off hunger, weren’t fancy. “Surprise me.”
Lance started up the car, putting it into gear. Dina wanted him to surprise her, and he would.
CHAPTER 13
Lance headed north on Route 9, maneuvering expertly in and out of slower-moving traffic. Concentrating on his driving was safer than taking furtive glances at the woman sitting next to him. When he’d gotten up that morning he’d planned to drive from West New York to Englishtown to look at the classic cars at the Old Bridge Township Raceway because he’d contemplated adding another vehicle to his growing collection.
However, all thoughts of cars were forgotten when he saw the tiny woman enter the grandstand area. He followed her as if pulled along by an invisible string. He didn’t know whether it was her hair, her sexy walk or her tiny body, but Lancelot Londell Haynes’s nose had been so wide open that a tractor-trailer could have fit with room to spare.
Reaching for a pair of sunglasses on the dashboard, he slipped them on. He felt rather than saw Dina move closer to the door. She’d admitted she didn’t trust men, and he wasn’t very trusting of women, yet that didn’t explain why two strangers were traveling together.
“How old is this car?”
Lance smiled. He’d driven more than twenty miles in silence, and Dina’s first remark was about his car. “It’s a lot older than you.”
Dina turned to stare at Lance’s profile. Upon closer examination she concluded that he wasn’t as nondescript as she’d originally thought. He had very little facial hair. Whereas his face was soft, it was not the same with his body. He claimed a pair of broad shoulders, a thick neck and muscled forearms.
“How old do you think I am?” she asked.
He gave her a quick glance. “Twenty-five.”
“Wrong. You missed by two years.”
Lance took his gaze off the road, his expression mirroring shock. “You’re twenty-three?” He’d dated younger women, but not those young enough to be thought of as his daughter.
Dina laughed softly. “No. I’m twenty-seven.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. She was closer to thirty than twenty. “But I was close.”
“Yeah, right,” she teased. How old are you, Lance?”
“Take a guess.”
Leaning to her left, Dina peered closely at him. “Th
irty-seven.”
“Nah,” he said, mimicking a goat.
“Thirty-nine?”
“Nah.”
“Thirty-six? No…no, I got it. Forty…forty-one.”
Smiling, Lance shook his head. “Nah, nah, nah.”
Dina threw back her head and laughed, the warm, honeyed sound filling the confines of the car. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d laughed—laughed with a spontaneity that wasn’t forced or fake.
She placed her hand over his, then pulled it back quickly as if she’d touched a hot surface. She had to be careful, very, very careful not to appear too forward. “Please tell me,” she pleaded, pushing out her lower lip like a petulant child.
“Later.”
“Pretty please.”
Lance gave her another quick glance. He didn’t know what there was about Dina Gordon, but at that moment he couldn’t deny her anything. “Forty-nine.”
Her jaw dropped seconds before she clamped a hand over her mouth. “No!” she said through her fingers.
“Why no, Dina?”
She lowered her hand. “I can’t believe you’re almost fifty.”
“I won’t be fifty until December.”
“You look incredible for your age.”
Lance nodded, his chest swelling with pride. Dina had just made the reality of his turning fifty a lot more palatable. “Thank you. In answer your question about the car, it’s a 1963 Cadillac DeVille.”
Relaxing against the supple leather seat, Dina listened to Lance extol the beauty and quality of his restored convertible. One thing that made her so adept at what she did was that she was a good listener. She’d learned at a young age that men were guided by ego and that their self-worth was measured by the speed of their cars or the number of women they bedded. No matter their age, they were still boys who needed their toys.
She closed her eyes, giving in to the smooth motion of the moving automobile.
She was sleeping soundly by the time Lance entered Matawan’s city limits.
CHAPTER 14
Lance maneuvered into one of the few remaining parking spaces at LUA, a Hoboken waterfront restaurant/lounge. He was partial to the dining establishment not only because of its location, with views of Manhattan and the cross-Hudson ferry terminal, but because of its Latin-fusion cuisine, more than twenty kinds of tequila and a side room with doorman-barred club for private parties. He’d exceeded the speed limit to arrive before brunch ended.
Glancing to his right, he stared at Dina. She was still asleep, her chest rising and falling gently, her lips parted and her head at an odd angle. Streams of sunlight fired the gold in her satiny skin. His gaze lingered on the shape of her small, firm breasts, outlined against the body-hugging striped fabric. He tore his gaze away, staring out the windshield.
A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. He was angry with himself for staring at Dina like a pervert. What, he mused, if she’d caught him? His staring, though unintentional, would only serve to increase her distrust of men.
As if he’d willed it, he felt her stir. Stretching gracefully like a lithe cat, she came awake, her gaze meeting his. Long, thick lashes brushed the tops of high cheekbones when she sat up straighter. Combing her fingers through her hair, she pushed the heavy waves off her forehead.
Dina ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, bringing Lance’s gaze to linger there. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I suppose I’m not much for keeping you company.”
He put up a finger. “Remember, I was the one who offered to take you home. So forget about keeping me company. Are you ready to eat?” he asked, deftly changing the topic.
She gave him a warm, open smile. “Yes.”
“Don’t move,” he warned when she made a motion to get out of the car.
Dina sat motionless, wondering what he’d planned. It didn’t take long for her to realize he wanted to help her out of the car when he opened the passenger-side door. Bending slightly, Lance extended his hand and she placed her palm on his, permitting him to pull her effortlessly to her feet. Cradling her fingers, he tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow. The only men who’d opened car doors for her in the past were hotel doormen.
“Thank you,” she whispered, giving him a demure glance. “This looks like a very nice place.” The luxury cars in the restaurant’s parking lot were a testament to the restaurant’s elegance.
Dina had said the first thing that had come to her mind. She had to talk, say anything to hide her growing apprehension. She was disturbed by Lance’s behavior because he was treating her as if she were a fancy lady.
“It is,” Lance confirmed. Dina pulled back, forcing him to stop. “What’s the matter?”
“Is what I’m wearing okay?”
“Of course it’s okay. Look, I’m not wearing a jacket. We’re having brunch, not dinner.”
She nodded, following him around to the front of the restaurant. How could she tell him the men she saw usually entertained at clubs or private rooms at hotels or in casinos. And if it was a restaurant, they usually paid the owner to take over the premises for the night. She’d become just another pretty face, smiling and laughing for the host’s pleasure and entertainment.
What Dina hated most was coming home after a night of partying smelling of cigars, cigarettes and weed. She didn’t drink, so she spent hours nursing a virgin cocktail until her “date” informed her he was ready to leave. Once she climbed into bed with him she became an actress in a role, giving an award-winning performance. None of them knew that her whispered words of passion, her grunts, groans or orgasms were faked. Afterward she went into the bathroom to discard the condom and wash away the smell of sex mingling with sweat, cologne and her perfume.
She’d lost count of the number of men who’d professed their love; none were aware that she’d never return their affection. She deemed them prey and, once caught, it was time to move on to the next creature to trap in her web of lies and deceit.
Lance was greeted by name by the maître d’. They exchanged handshakes and within minutes they were shown a table next to a window. Dina was overwhelmed by the architectural lines of the restaurant’s design and the views of Hoboken’s waterfront area and the Manhattan skyline on the other side of the Hudson River.
Her eyes danced with excitement. “The views must be spectacular at night.”
Lance nodded, smiling. Dina reminded him of a child opening gaily wrapped Christmas gifts. He found her spontaneity and enthusiasm contagious. “They are. Would you like to come back here one night?”
“Yes!” The word had tumbled from her lips before she could censor herself. A flush crept up her neck to her hairline as she lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Reaching across the table, Lance captured her hands, tightening his grip when she attempted to pull away. “There’s no need to apologize, Dina. Look at me,” he urged softly. Waiting until her head lifted, he met her tortured eyes. “If you want to come back, I’ll bring you.”
“I don’t want to impose upon you, nor do I want you to feel obligated to do more for me than you’re already doing.”
“I never do what I have to, only what I want to.” He loosened his grip, staring down at the tiny hands with delicate fingers and perfect nails. Even without polish they were exquisite. It was with reluctance that he released his hold on her. “I’m going to order a mojito. Would you like one?”
Dina wrinkled her nose. “What’s that?”
“It’s a Cuban drink made with rum, lime juice, sparkling water and crushed mint leaves. They serve it here it with chunks of shaved sugar cane.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I don’t drink.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Not at all?”
“Hardly ever,” she said truthfully. “I saw what alcohol did to my mother, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“Would you prefer that I don’t drink?” Lance asked.
“No, please have your mojito. It doesn’t
bother me when other people drink.”
“What if I order one for you without the rum?”
Dina gave him a bright smile. “I’d like that.”
Lance signaled a waiter and gave him their drink order, then rounded the table to pull back Dina’s chair, leading her over to the area where a buffet was set up. His arm slipped down her back and settled around her waist as they waited on line to sample the fusion of Latin cuisine comparable only to South Beach.
CHAPTER 15
Dina took a sip of her virgin mojito, peering over the rim of the glass at her dining partner. Surprisingly she enjoyed Lance’s company. With him she was able to relax enough to enjoy her food and beverage. She didn’t have to analyze everything he said with the hope that he would reveal a clue or clues which she would pass along to Payne. Sharing brunch with Lance was close to perfect until the topic of conversation shifted to Dina Gordon.
“What about Dina Gordon?” she asked, touching the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“Who is she? What does she do? What does she like? Dislike?”
A veil dropped over her eyes when Dina glanced at a spot over his shoulder. “Why are you referring to me as if I’m not here?”
Lance leaned back in his chair, wondering if he’d stepped over the line with Dina. She was so open, vulnerable, then without warning she put on a shield that made him feel as if he’d become a bother, an annoyance.
“I’m trying not to get too personal. Now, if Dina Gordon doesn’t want to answer my questions, then she can opt not to.”
Dina’s gaze swung back to Lance. He’d finished his mojito, ordered another one but it sat untouched. “There’s not much to tell.”
Lance chose his words carefully. “Are you willing to tell me what little there is to tell?”
Nodding, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them she felt as if Lance could see beneath the tough-girl facade she’d erected to protect herself from pain and disappointment.
“I never knew my mother or my father.”
Her delicate features tightened with her pronouncement. Her expression had changed so quickly that Lance thought he was looking at a stranger. Dina’s transformation reminded him of a snake he’d seen at the zoo. It’d shed its skin and completely changed its appearance.
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