He laughed. Being teased by Loretta was surprisingly enjoyable. “So, are you really twenty-nine?” he asked.
“As opposed to thirty-something and lying? No. I don’t lie about my age. As a matter of fact, I just turned twenty-nine. The day we met on the train? That was my birthday. My family had invited me out to Plainview for a wake.”
“A wake on your birthday?”
“My birthday was the wake. They think my being twenty-nine and single is pathetic.”
“Pathetic?” For a moment, he thought she was teasing him again, but her expression was resigned, no hint of amusement in it. “Why would they think that?”
“Because I’m twenty-nine and single.” The waiter arrived with two tiny cups of thick, steaming coffee and two plates, each containing a pastry tube oozing a creamy filling and dusted with a heavy layer of powdered sugar. Josh watched as Loretta took the lemon peel garnishing her cup and rubbed it around the rim, then dropped it into her espresso. He’d never been sure what to do with the lemon peel, and he’d always tucked it discreetly onto the saucer and ignored it.
All right, so he didn’t know how to drink espresso. Or how to eat cannolis. One bite would probably cause all that powdered sugar to puff into the air like a radioactive cloud. But none of that interested him as much as her statement that her family thought she was pathetic.
There was absolutely nothing pathetic about Loretta, from her lush hair to her luscious legs—and her mind, he added virtuously. Her mind, her personality, her smile… “You are not pathetic,” he said.
Her smile widened. “Yeah? Well you are. Never had a cannoli…”
“That’s about to change.” he said, gazing warily at the pastries. “Is there a way to eat that without it exploding?”
“No,” she said simply, lifting the chocolate-filled one and taking a delicate bite. It didn’t explode. The edge crumbled a little, and left a dusting of sugar on her upper lip—which looked unfortunately erotic, especially when she licked it off with the tip of her tongue. “Try that one first,” she said, gesturing toward the untouched cannoli. “That’s a cannoli in its purest form.”
He lifted it and took a bite. The crunchy tube of pastry cracked and the rich, sweet filling oozed onto his fingers. He didn’t care. It tasted great. Significantly better than kasha varnishkes.
“Okay,” he said once he’d licked the bulk of the cream from his thumb and wiped the rest on a napkin. “Explain to me what’s wrong with your family.”
She stared at him for a minute, then laughed. “Besides their being dentists?”
He noticed a spot of sugar on the tip of her nose, but he thought he might embarrass her if he mentioned it. Anyway, it looked kind of cute there. “There’s nothing wrong with dentists,” he said.
“You’ve never met my family.” She leaned back in her chair, affording him a better view of her legs, and sipped her espresso. “You’re right. Dentists in and of themselves are fine. They perform a necessary service. They fight in the front lines in the battle against tooth decay and gum disease. God bless them.” She sighed. “As for my family, they want me married and settled down, that’s all.”
“And you don’t want that?”
She shrugged. “Right now, I’m pretty happy with my life the way it is.”
“And you’re not looking for a romance,” he reminded her, quoting her own words. “If you were, you wouldn’t have wasted this opportunity on me.”
“What opportunity? This blind date, you mean?” She laughed again. “Imagine if I’d gone out with someone I had big hopes for. ‘Three Dead Corpses’ would have spoiled the mood. I mean, would you want go someplace and make love after watching people jumping out of coffins and singing—what was that horrible song about how the spirit was willing but the flesh was non-existent?”
Well, actually, yes, he would want to go someplace and make love—right now, even after two hours of “Three Dead Corpses.” He’d like to kiss that speck of sugar off Loretta’s nose, and then get an up-close look at whatever she had on under her blouse…and he’d want to feel guilt-free afterward.
He wanted the impossible.
“You must have plenty of boyfriends,” he said.
“Millions. Billions.” She took another bite of the chocolate cannoli, then swapped plates with him.
Was she pulling his leg about the billions of boyfriends? Or did she really have a wild social life? In which case, why had she lassoed him into this blind date? Why not choose one of her billions?
“Okay, so maybe not billions,” she said, answering his unasked questions. She bit into his cannoli, managing not to make a bigger mess of it. “Truth is, I was supposed to be getting married this month.”
It was his turn to lean back, to regard her in a new light. Almost married? Had some bastard shattered her heart? Josh suddenly felt gallantly protective of her. “What happened?” he asked.
“My fiancé broke up with me on Valentine’s Day.” She didn’t seem particularly sad about it.
“That’s terrible.”
She shrugged again. “Actually, it was great. A little messy, sure. We’d already lined up the church, reserved the place for the reception. I hadn’t bought my dress yet, but I had my bridesmaids lined up—my cousin Donna was going to be my matron of honor, and my two sisters-in-law were going to be in the party, and my three nieces were all going to be flower girls because heaven help us all if someone got left out, and Gary’s brother was going to be the best man. We’d done a real good job of focusing on the details and missing the big picture.”
“Gary.” Josh appreciated having a name he could attach to the villain in this story.
“Gary Mancuso. He wasn’t a dentist, but he was a good Catholic boy from Neapolitan stock and he was willing to marry me, so my parents adored him. I liked his parents, too. They were very nice.” She sipped her espresso and smiled. “In fact, everything about it was very nice. Then, on Valentine’s Day, I made a romantic dinner for Gary—three-cheese lasagna and a beautiful antipasto, and a bottle of Salice Salentino—and he brought me flowers and Perugina chocolates, and everything was nice. And suddenly he said, ‘We’ve got a problem, Loretta. I don’t love you.’”
“Tact wasn’t his long suit,” Josh commented.
“He was honest.” Loretta sucked some sugar from her index finger. “And you know, when I thought about it, I realized I didn’t love him, either. We were just going along with everything, living according to everyone else’s expectations, doing what everyone assumed we should do. I was getting up in age, according to my family, and I’d been dating Gary for a while, so what the hell, why not? He was getting the same kind of pressure on his end. We got so caught up in it, we forgot to think about what we wanted.” She toyed with a crumb of cannoli shell. Her fingers were longer than he’d realized. With her nails cut short, they had seemed kind of blunt, but they were like her legs, like all of her—long and slender. “The closest I ever came to loving him was that Valentine’s Day. He saved us both from a very boring marriage—or a very trite divorce.”
“So I don’t have to find this guy and beat him up for you?”
Her smile was sweet and warm and slightly surprised. “If you want to beat people up for me, I’ll give you a list. But not Gary. He’s okay in my book. You remind me of him a little.”
“I do?” Josh wasn’t sure if she meant that as a compliment.
“You seem like the kind of guy who’d be better at honesty than tact.”
“I’m not sure about that.” In fact, he didn’t think he was particularly good at either.
“You’re both funny, and you’re willing to take chances. And you both have gorgeous hazel eyes.” She dropped the crumb and sipped her espresso. “Of course, to Gary, eating a bacon cheeseburger would not be a sin. To him, a sin would be, for instance, committing adultery.”
“He committed adultery?”
“No, I’m just saying. Catholics have a pretty straight
forward system of sin. Lent is the only time food is involved—and you get to choose which foods you’re going to give up then. And if you fall off the wagon—say, if you eat a cannoli during Lent, for instance—it’s not a sin. It’s just a lapse, no big deal. If you commit a sin—adultery, for example—you go to church, confess, do your penance and the slate is wiped clean. You’re good to go.”
“Catholicism is a lot more user-friendly than Judaism.”
“Plus, we get Christmas.” Her smile widened, causing her eyes to glitter. “You might want to consider converting.”
“I’ll just stick with sneaking the occasional bacon cheeseburger,” he said. “So after this debacle with Gary, you decided to swear off men?”
“No. What I’ve sworn off is getting panicked about not having a man in my life. I don’t want a serious love affair. I don’t want my family nagging me about how I have to get married before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“Who the hell knows? I like my life the way it is. I just want them to leave me alone about it.”
“I don’t blame you.” He lifted his cup and was disappointed to discover it empty. Only debris from the cannolis remained on the plates. The clock above the café’s entry indicated that it was nearly eleven.
He had work tomorrow. So did Loretta. He signaled the waiter over and requested the check. The waiter took his credit card and disappeared. “Do we have to appear on the show again?” he asked Loretta.
“To recap our date? Becky hinted that she might want us to do that.” She gazed directly into his eyes. “Do you want to?”
“Appear on the show again?” he asked. The way she was looking at him, he wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking, or what he wanted.
“Because I can probably talk them out of it, if you’d rather skip. You’ve been a good sport about this, but—”
“I’m not a good sport,” he said. “I didn’t do this because I’m a good sport.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because…” He pondered his answer, searching for the right words, wondering whether honesty would win out over tact. “I decided it was time to take a chance.”
She studied him, apparently unsure of what he meant. He hoped she wouldn’t question him further, because he didn’t want to clarify his answer. He didn’t want to explain his uneasiness about Melanie about their relationship and his own restlessness. If Loretta asked, he’d have to lie. This was one of those occasions where tact trumped honesty.
Fortunately, she let his answer stand unchallenged. “So, you wouldn’t mind going back on the show?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you find out what they want us to do, and then we can figure out whether we want to do it?”
“Okay.” The waiter returned with a receipt for Josh to sign. He took care of it, then stood and offered Loretta his hand.
“This has been great, Josh,” she said. “I mean it. One of the more pleasant evenings of my life.”
“Because it wasn’t really a date,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, but I had fun, too.”
“So did I,” he said. “It’s always fun getting together with an old friend.” She caught his smile and returned it. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.”
“It’s just a couple of blocks from here. And you’ve got a long trip home, yourself—”
“My friend Solly will kill me if I don’t see you home.”
“Solly?” she asked as he ushered her to the door and outside, into the balmy night.
“Solly is a long story,” Josh warned. “If you want to hear about him, we’re going to have to save it for another time.”
“I want to hear about him,” Loretta said. Their gazes met, and he understood. This wasn’t a date, it wasn’t romance, but they were going to see each other again.
They headed north, leaving behind the bustle of 96th Street for the quieter residential blocks. A few dog walkers cruised the sidewalks; a few folks sat on front stoops chatting, or stood huddling in the glow of a street lamp. But the neighborhood was clearly winding down for the night. Josh was doubly glad he’d insisted on escorting Loretta home. She would probably be safe without him, but she was safer with him.
“So, what are you going to tell your colleagues at work tomorrow?” he asked her.
“About tonight? I’ll tell them to avoid ‘Three Dead Corpses’ and the Charter Beef House.”
He grinned. “That’s all?”
She poked his arm. “Fishing for compliments? I’ll tell them this was the best blind date I’ve ever been on.”
How much of a compliment that was depended on how bad her previous blind dates had been. He chose to be flattered, anyway. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a blind date, either—it might have been his freshman year at Penn, when his roommate’s girlfriend dragged a friend along with her from Bryn Mawr and they’d attempted a double-date weekend. Compared to that episode, this was the best blind date he’d ever been on, too.
Even in delicate dress sandals, Loretta walked with a strong, purposeful stride. The heels added a few inches to her height, bringing the top of her head in line with his ear. When light struck her hair, it took on a silver sheen, like tiny flashes of lightning rippling through the black waves.
“That’s my building,” she said, pointing to a stodgy brick apartment building. She dug into her tiny purse and pulled out a key ring. “Thanks for making this whole fiasco bearable.”
“It wasn’t a fiasco,” he said. “Except for the play.”
“That was definitely bad.” She smiled up at him.
God, she really was pretty. Guilt, schmilt. She’d pointed out, and he’d agreed, that he was willing to take chances. He might as well live up to that assessment.
He bowed his head and touched his lips to hers.
When she didn’t pull away, he brushed her lips with his again, a little more firmly, not pushing but asserting himself, making sure she understood that this was no accident, no meaningless gesture. Making sure she knew he wanted her.
Her mouth was warm and soft and not at all resistant. She didn’t touch him, didn’t reach for him and pull him to her. But she didn’t reject him, either. She let his mouth linger on hers for a long, sweet moment, then sighed and parted her lips just enough for him to steal inside.
His tongue touched hers, and a tiny sound, half a gasp and half a moan, escaped her. She pulled back. “What was that about?” she asked.
“That was about me kissing you.”
Her eyes were wide and dark, her lashes as thick as mink. She contemplated him, her lips pressed together—as if to keep him from kissing her again. That one kiss had felt too good. Not because it had been months since he’d kissed a woman but just because. Because he and Loretta were new old friends. Because she was beautiful and funny and smart.
“I thought…” She cleared her voice and started again. “I thought we had an understanding.”
“No romance.” He held up his hands, palm forward, as if to demonstrate that he wasn’t armed. “Yes. Understood.”
“So you’re just—what? Kissing me? For no reason?”
“Do you really want me to list the reasons?”
“All I’m saying is, if you expect me to invite you upstairs—”
“I don’t expect that at all,” he assured her. “If you invited me, I’d say no.” He considered that for a minute, then decided that honesty was more important than tact. “Who am I kidding? If you invited me upstairs I’d definitely say yes.”
She looked as if she were trying not to laugh. She failed, and a faint chuckle escaped her. “I’m not inviting you.”
No surprise there. He brushed a stray hair back from her cheek, just so he could touch the silky strands. “Look,” he said, letting his hand fall to his side. “I’m out of line. I’m sorry. I know you’re not interested—”
“Who says I’m not interested?”
He thought about the dark red lace caressing her skin under her blouse. Damn. Maybe she was interested. “Are you interested?” he asked carefully.
“Josh.” Her smile took on a hint of disappointment. “Come on. You think eating a bacon cheeseburger is a sin—but you don’t think there’s anything wrong with coming on to me when you’ve already got a girlfriend?”
Guilt swept over him, not guilt-schmilt but the real thing, as damp and heavy as a wave crashing against the sand at Jones Beach. “You’re right,” he confessed. “I’m a son of a bitch.”
Her smile brightened. She shook her head, gave his arm a squeeze and pulled open the outer door of her building. “I’ll call you,” she promised before letting the door swing shut behind her.
He stood staring through the glass at her silhouette in the vestibule as she used her key on the inner door and then vanished inside. She’d said she would call. She’d implied that she was interested. She hadn’t outright agreed with him when he’d said he was a son of a bitch.
She hadn’t disagreed with him, either. He was a son of a bitch.
But he was grinning as he turned and strolled to the corner in search of a cab.
Chapter Fourteen
Nicky phoned at seven a.m. He wasn’t her first post-blind-date call; Donna had buzzed her a few minutes before midnight last night. Loretta wished she’d been able to sleep during the seven intervening hours, but she’d had a restless night reliving Josh’s kiss in her mind, over and over, recalling the warmth of his mouth, the erotic foray of his tongue. She’d been drifting into a desperately needed slumber when Nicky’s call jolted her awake.
“What?” she growled into the mouthpiece. Anyone rude enough to phone her at such an ungodly hour didn’t deserve courtesy.
Nicky probably didn’t expect courtesy from her, anyway. “Hey, Loretta! How’d it go last night?”
“How did what go?” Tucking the receiver against her ear, she sank back into the pillows and shut her eyes. Morning light filtered through her curtains, but with her eyes closed she could pretend it was still dark.
“Your big blind date. We’re all dying of curiosity here. How’d it go?”
Just This Once Page 15