by Jackie Black
When they were on the road, he glanced over at Lissa. “I didn’t want to take you somewhere where you might not like the food, so I made reservations at a French restaurant,” he said. “Next time, you can let me know in advance where you’d like to eat.”
Next time? Elizabeth thought, uneasy about his assumption that this was the start of something. As far as she was concerned, there wasn’t going to be any “next time,” but she didn’t say that. Instead, she made herself smile.
“That’s fine,” she said, then quickly changed the subject. “What is the symphony doing tonight?” she asked brightly.
Sonny smiled. “Ravel.” And the gleam in his eyes when he glanced over at her unnerved her.
She forced herself to laugh in a way she hoped sounded lightly amused. “Not Bolero, I hope.” She shrugged. “I think the movie 10 gave that tune a highly overrated potency.” She was lying in her teeth, of course. She found Bolero a very effective piece in producing a certain mood . . . but it was a mood she didn’t want to feel this particular night.
Sonny merely shrugged. “What would you prefer instead?” he asked.
“Oh . . . ah . . . Mozart has always been one of my favorites,” she tossed off without thinking.
Sonny raised his brows as he glanced over at her. “Odd,” he murmured, but not loudly enough for Elizabeth to hear. And then louder, he added, “Shall we see what we can find on the radio?” And he reached over to touch a button on the dash.
Immediately, the car was filled with the sound of Elizabeth’s voice huskily crooning, “You’re the only man for me . . . the only man for me . . .”
Elizabeth jerked her eyes to the lighted dial, appalled by what she was hearing. “Oh, please ... not that!” she said with entirely unthinking fervor.
Sonny was only too happy to snap off the radio. This was definitely not the time he wanted to be reminded of the Vixen and what that song did to him.
“Sorry,” he said somewhat grimly into the resulting silence. “I guess my daughter put the radio on that station.” Which was probably true, but he didn’t add that he had no objection to listening to that particular station—or that particular song—normally.
Elizabeth frantically sought for a way to get off of the subject of music. “You have a daughter?” she quickly asked.
“Yes,” Sonny nodded. “Her name’s Margaret . . . Maggie for short.”
“How nice,” Elizabeth encouraged him to go on. “How old is she?”
“Twelve,” Sonny almost sighed. “It’s rather a difficult age.”
Elizabeth was able to laugh more naturally this time. “Yes, I remember,” she said sympathetically. “But don’t despair. One day, she’ll start behaving like a normal human being again.”
“I’m not sure she ever did behave like a normal child,” Sonny responded ruefully.
Having met Maggie, Elizabeth didn’t take him seriously. “Oh, you’ve just forgotten,” she said with a shrug. “I’d be willing to bet she had you completely wrapped around her finger when she was smaller.”
Sonny felt startled at Lissa’s use of a description Maggie had flung at him earlier that evening.
“Well, I’m certain she’d like to be able to do that now,” he responded dryly, “but I’m equally certain it’s not in my—or her—best interests to let her get away with it.”
Elizabeth laughed, remembering the wonderful relationship she’d shared with her father. Wonderful or not, however, she hadn’t been above trying out her newly emerging feminine wiles on him at Maggie’s age to get what she Wanted. Her father had skillfully parried the attempts, without damaging her confidence in herself. She said as much to Sonny.
“And how did he accomplish such a monumental task?” Sonny asked with dry curiosity.
“Oh, he’d simply hug me and give me lots of compliments and then good-naturedly stand firm about saying no to me if he thought it was in my best interest.”
Sonny nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like good strategy,” he agreed.
“It was . . . though I didn’t think so at the time.” Elizabeth chuckled.
They arrived at the restaurant, and when they were seated in a rather secluded alcove and had been served their wine, Sonny raised his glass in a toast to Elizabeth.
“To one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet,” he said lightly.
Elizabeth frowned slightly.
“What is it?” Sonny paused with the glass of wine halfway to his lips. “Do you dislike compliments?”
Elizabeth hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s not that I dislike compliments,” she said quietly, daring to meet Sonny’s gaze with her own, briefly. “It’s just that I had nothing to do with the way I look. But I’ve made an effort to cultivate my mind, so I’d really prefer compliments having to do with my intelligence or my character. I feel more comfortable taking at least some credit for them.”
Sonny put his glass down, his gaze thoughtful.
“Then I suppose it’s premature to compliment you at all,” he said with a slight smile, “since I don’t know enough about your mental abilities or your character to comment. However,” he added, his smile widening when he saw that his words had surprised Lissa, “I think it’s unfair to say you can’t take any credit at all for your looks. From where I sit, it’s obvious that you’ve taken what you were born with and enhanced it with makeup and a good haircut and wonderful taste in clothes.” He shrugged, his eyes mocking Elizabeth. “So I repeat ... to one of the most beautiful women it has ever been my good fortune to meet.”
He slowly and deliberately raised his glass to his mouth, holding Elizabeth’s gaze all the while, and drank the whole thing off.
Though she was as fascinated with Sonny’s looks as he seemed to be with hers, Elizabeth wasn’t fooled that such a basis for a relationship had any validity. Without commenting on her thoughts, however, she lowered her lashes over her eyes and took a brief sip of her wine, then was grateful that the waiter approached and flourished menus at them, providing a welcome diversion.
She chose a small filet mignon with a wine sauce, baked potato, and green salad. Sonny ordered fish. Then the waiter was gone, and Sonny was staring across the table at Lissa. He was seized with a strong desire to get them to a comfortable stage so they could begin to get to know one another.
“Lissa,” he addressed her quietly, “I’ll ask you again. Is there something about me you don’t like?”
Startled by the question, Elizabeth focused on the expression in his blue eyes, which was a mistake because the expression was so warm and approving of her that she couldn’t possibly answer him as discour- agingly as she knew she should. But perhaps she could be a little more honest than she’d ever been so far in their brief acquaintance?
“Sonny, it would be hard for anyone to dislike you,” she said, a dryly teasing note in her voice.
“Well, that’s encouraging,” he responded in the same manner, but there was still a question in his eyes.
Elizabeth sighed, and her expression sobered as she leaned toward him, her eyes on his. “But Sonny, I wonder if you aren’t just a little . . . well, snobbish?”
Sonny was startled. “Snobbish?” he echoed blankly.
Elizabeth sighed again, searching for the right words. Then they came to her, and her gaze was searching as she said them.
“Suppose I didn’t dress conservatively, wore more makeup, lived in a shabby neighborhood and had a more flamboyant career in mind than becoming a pediatrician?” she asked. “Would I still be sitting across from you in this expensive restaurant, preparing to accompany you to a symphony concert?”
Sonny took his time, thinking the question over carefully before answering.
“Perhaps you would,” he finally said soberly, “but my objective in asking you out would probably be different than it is.”
Elizabeth was reluctant to ask the obvious question, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“And what is your objective in ask
ing me out?” she said faintly. “And what would it be if I were different ... more like the woman I just described?”
“My objective in asking out your fictitious woman . . . although I probably wouldn’t want to ask her out at all,” Sonny replied honestly, “would be a reluctant fascination with her sex appeal. My objective in asking you out, Lissa, is, hopefully, to begin a full-blown relationship.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, if indeed she could have come up with anything to say, Sonny went on.
“Now, it’s my turn,” he said with a wry inflection in his voice. “Suppose that instead of being a respectable doctor with a fairly high income, a house in a decent neighborhood, and the sort of manners expected of a man in my position, I were the male equivalent of the woman you described. Would you be sitting across from me in this expensive restaurant, preparing to go to a symphony concert with me?”
Elizabeth stared at him, trying to be objective. He had a point, but he was missing the real basis of her question.
“It would depend entirely on the sort of man you were beneath the flamboyant career, clothing, and behavior,” she answered quietly.
Sonny straightened, everything in him alerted to the importance of what he was about to hear.
“And what sort of man would that be?” he asked intently.
Without hesitating, Elizabeth answered, “A kind man, a decent man, a man tolerant and forgiving of his fellow humans, a man dedicated to make the best of whatever talents he had.”
Sonny relaxed slightly. As far as he knew, he met all of the criteria Lissa had described.
“And I would describe a woman I could relate to much in the same terms,” he said. “But I can’t help it if I would also like her taste in clothes and makeup and leisure activities to run along the same lines as mine.”
Elizabeth wished they hadn’t started this conversation. She understood the validity of Sonny’s view. Everyone had certain tastes, and was naturally inclined to be more comfortable with people whose tastes were similar. But that logical deduction didn’t erase the hurt she’d felt in her dressing room the night Sonny had kissed her in her role as the Vixen and she’d seen the look on his face that held her in contempt.
“Lissa?” Sonny called her back from her thoughts, his expression puzzled. “What are you thinking?”
Elizabeth raised her head and looked him straight in the eye.
“Oh, I was just thinking that this conversation is really academic,” she said coolly, “because it will be a long time before I’m in a position to become emotionally involved with any man.”
Sonny felt as though he’d been kicked in the stomach, and Elizabeth saw his reaction in his face. But now that she’d started, she felt she had to make her position clear. Though Sonny Strotherton might, or might not, deserve the kind of disappointment she was dealing him, it was only fair to stop him from weaving fantasies about deepening their relationship.
“When I am ready to fall in love,” she said clearly and distinctly, “I have no doubt that I will recognize the right man when he comes along. I’m only grateful that I haven’t met him yet . . . because this isn’t the right time.”
As Elizabeth watched Sonny absorb her meaning and react to it, she wondered why she felt bleakly unhappy about what she was doing, rather than confident that she was doing the right thing.
But her unhappiness dissolved into alarm as she saw that, after his first reaction of crushing disappointment, Sonny Strotherton was recouping his confidence. In fact, it seemed that, far from discouraging him entirely, her words had goaded him as though she’d issued a challenge.
His next words confirmed this.
“It seems to me,” Sonny tossed off with a casualness belied by the gleam of determination in his eyes, “that one should never be too adamant about whom one will love ... or when. Fate has a way of making us mortals eat our words.”
And with that, he picked up the bottle of wine and refilled Elizabeth’s glass and his own, then leaned back in his chair to savor the vintage slowly and with pleasure . . . almost as much pleasure as he was deriving from the look of panic in Lissa’s widened violet eyes.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth paid little attention to the concert. It merely served as background music for her thoughts, which were decidedly chaotic.
She tried to be grateful that after their initial talk, Sonny had steered the conversation away from personal matters and had set himself out to entertain her, which he had. But she had the strangest feeling that he was merely filling time before going on the attack again. And if that was true, she’d have given a lot to be able to predict what form that attack would take.
/ can handle anything he dishes out, she tried to bolster her courage. Except there was a condition to her mental statement, and she was aware of what it was. No doubt she could handle anything Sonny might say to undermine her determination not to get involved with him. It was what he might do that worried her. When she let herself, she remembered all too vividly what she had felt when he’d kissed her, and she didn’t exactly trust her ability to discount such feelings.
The thunder of applause signaling the end of the concert made Elizabeth jump in her seat. Then she recovered her equilibrium and joined in, hoping Sonny hadn’t noticed how preoccupied she’d been all evening.
Sonny had very definitely noticed Lissa’s preoccupation that evening and had found her state of mind reassuring. If he had really made no impression on her, wouldn’t her mind have been free to focus on the concert?
Actually, there were other nebulous things about her behavior that bolstered his confidence, but nothing he could put his finger on. He only knew that her attempt to discourage him had somehow rung hollow, and he was inclined to trust his gut feeling that Lissa Farrell was very definitely attracted to him. It only remained to discover why she didn’t want to act on that attraction.
“Would you like to go somewhere for a drink?” he asked her as they came out into the crisp night air.
“Oh . . . ah . . . no. . . .” Elizabeth shook her head, wishing she could find her normal decisive manner wherever she’d lost it since meeting Sonny Strotherton. “I have a lot of things to do tomorrow, so I’d better get home to bed.”
“Are your Sundays always so busy?” he inquired, rather dryly it seemed to Elizabeth.
“Mmm . . . sometimes,” she answered, squirming mentally at being forced to skirt the truth so often where Sonny was concerned. It was irritating!
“That’s too bad,” he said calmly as he escorted her to his car. “I was hoping you could come to dinner at my place tomorrow evening. My daughter would like to meet you.” And no doubt embarrass the dickens out of you in the process, Sonny added silently with grim humor.
“Oh . . . well . . . not tomorrow, I’m afraid.” What do you mean, not tomorrow? Elizabeth asked herself irritably. Not ever! And what does he mean asking you out again anyway after that discussion you had earlier?
“Some other time, then,” Sonny said smoothly and bent to open the car door for her.
Elizabeth glared at the back of his head, wondering what it was going to take to discourage the man! He must have an ego the size of Mount Rushmore!
She quickly cleared her expression as Sonny straightened up. Then she moved her lips into a half-guilty smile before climbing into the car.
It's almost over, she reassured herself as Sonny went around to the other side. Just hold on for another half hour, and with a little luck and a lot of willpower, you won’t ever have to see Sonny Strotherton again.
There was a brief silence between them as Sonny dealt with traffic and got onto the road home, then he broke it.
“So you’re Ferris Cabot’s goddaughter,” he said thoughtfully. “Was he your physician when you were younger?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth answered, relieved that he was going to continue to keep the conversation on relatively impersonal topics.
“He’s my daughter Maggie’s physician as well,” Sonny said.
“You couldn’t do better,” Elizabeth volunteered. “He was always wonderful to me. I think he purposely scheduled longer than normal appointments with me so we could talk about medicine together.” She glanced at Sonny curiously. “Does Maggie have any interest in medicine?”
“I’m not sure what interests Maggie other than music and the strange groups who perform it these days,” Sonny said with a shake of his head.
Elizabeth immediately froze for an instant, then decided to get the conversation onto safer topics.
“Well, she’s young,” she said hastily. “It takes some people longer than others to find their niche in life. I knew what I wanted to do from about the age of nine, but I consider myself lucky to have been so certain.”
Sonny glanced over at her, his expression warm. “What’s unusual is that you never changed your mind,” he said approvingly, “but that probably had a lot to do with your father’s influence. I understand he was very special.” He paused for a moment, then added, “But, of course, you might just as well have been drawn to a musical career, considering who your mother was. By the way, do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Elizabeth squirmed in momentary panic, but managed to answer in a reasonably normal voice.
“One brother.”
“And what does he do?”
Silence.
After a moment, Sonny looked at her again. “Lissa?”
“What?” she answered vaguely, desperately hoping she was going to get through this conversation merely playing it by ear. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “I was distracted thinking about that paper you and Uncle Ferris are working on together. Didn’t I hear recently that there has been an outbreak of adult mononucleosis that takes a different, more debilitating form than is usual in adolescents?”