by JoAnn Durgin
“Tell me something: what else do you know about me? Do I also like walks in the rain, sushi by moonlight and ice skating at Rockefeller?” Her tone lightly teased, the glint in her eye irresistible as the right corner of her lip curled again. “Never mind. That makes me sound like . . .” She lifted her chin, giving him an impish grin that caught him completely unaware.
Digging deep, it took him a few seconds to muster a coherent response. Amy was too good to be true. Nothing thrilled him more than a good bantering session with a sharp, intuitive woman. “Know what I find most intriguing about your little list?”
“Other than it makes me sound like a beauty queen?”
“Does the tiara fit?”
“Bite your tongue.” When she scrunched her nose, he was officially captivated.
“You more than meet the qualifications.” That comment slipped out unaware. Watch it.
“Well, um,” she said, darting her gaze away from his, “thank you. Tell me, are you always this—?”
“Honest? Usually.” He decided to take the straight approach and prayed it wouldn’t lead to a crash-and-burn. “Do you enjoy those things solo, Amelia? The walks, the sushi, the ice skating?”
A slow flush of pink colored her cheeks. “I detested sushi the one time I tried it, I adore walks in the rain, but I only ice skate if bribed since I can’t afford to hobble around on crutches. So, tell me, do you also know my middle name?” When he shook his head, she twisted her mouth. “Guess you didn’t dig deep enough. It’s hardly a secret, but tell me, are you also always this—”
“Direct?” His eyes searched hers. “My mother’s one of the wisest people I know and she passed on some very important nuggets of wisdom, including to always state my case upfront.”
“In that case, Mama Warnick must have also advised you a little more small talk is wise before hitting a woman smack between the eyes with personal information you’ve learned about her life. If you want honesty, it makes me uncomfortable.” As if to underscore her point, she shifted in her seat and lowered her gaze. “On the other hand, score one for healthy respect for your mother. Always a good character trait although I’m afraid it’s getting rarer every day.”
“I’m sorry, Amy. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, feeling a twinge of regret. “In the same vein of being completely honest and direct, I think you’re as challenging as you are beautiful. Another rarity.”
“I’m not that uncomfortable, and please don’t change the subject.” The cute twitch resurfaced.
“I thought it was the same subject.”
She looked away a moment and sucked in her cheeks. “You’re a flirt of the worst kind.”
“Which kind is that?”
Those lovely eyes lifted to his. “The extremely dangerous kind that’s prompting me to get up from this table, thank you for the lovely dinner invitation, retreat gracefully with my head held high and my dignity—and everything else—intact.”
With that comment, he almost choked on a quick sip of his iced tea. Putting his napkin over his mouth, he coughed and resisted the strong urge to loosen his collar. Man, it felt tight. You deserved that one.
“Oh, did I say something wrong?” She’d forced a kittenish tone into her voice and batted her lashes with an innocent look. From all appearances, she was trying her best not to burst out with laughter.
“Not at all. Matter of fact,” he said, tossing his napkin on the table, “sounds like a plan. I’ll go with you.”
“I meant solo.” She traced a finger around the rim of her glass and surveyed him beneath veiled lids. “Seriously, why did you invite me to dinner? A man like you is nothing if not single-minded.” Picking up her menu, she moved her eyes across it, but he knew she listened.
“A man like me?” That was one of the more intriguing lines he’d love to investigate. “Please don’t make me sound so calculating, Amy.” He waited until she lowered her menu. “Forgive me for stating the obvious, but I didn’t invite you here tonight to share casual conversation about the weather and the state of the economy.”
“Precisely. You must be thinking of making an investment in something.”
“True. Your time at NYU was well-spent.” He flashed his most brilliant smile.
Her eyes widened. “You’re incredibly infuriating.”
He needed to tone it down. “In two years, I predict we’ll be working the Times crossword puzzle together on Sunday mornings.” Brilliant. Way not to be subtle. Landon hoped he hadn’t pushed her too far with that comment, but it remained a distinct possibility.
Amy coughed and brought a quick hand up to her chest. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Now you sound arrogant. He swirled his iced tea and took a long drink.
“For one thing, I go to church most Sunday mornings.”
He held her gaze. “Great. I need to get there more often, but I’m an early riser. You?” Why not add presumptuous to the list?
“None of your business.” She appeared a bit dazed.
It was fascinating how her eyes transitioned from green to gray and back again in the span of only a few seconds. He hoped he wasn’t coming across as a total phony and supercilious—a good word he’d come across in the crossword puzzle the week before. “You don’t think I can be a man of faith and still do what I do?”
“No, I’m not saying that at all. I suppose it depends on whether you’re talking about being a journalist or an in-your-face, world-class flirt.”
Landon frowned. “I guess I deserved that one, but that’s the second time you’ve called me a flirt. I prefer to call it innocent bantering.”
“Bantering between a man and woman generally implies flirting,” she said. “I doubt anything you do is ever innocent or casual.”
“That’s purely an assumption on your part, and please explain . . .”
When another small smile lifted her lips, he found it difficult not to stare. He hadn’t engaged in a conversation this long with a woman in more than a year. Harmless little flirtations here and there, but not full-on bantering like this. It was great.
“Meaning you have a purpose for everything. For instance, have you ever engaged in banter with a woman that couldn’t be construed as flirting?” She waited a few seconds. “Are you trying to remember or are you simply pausing for dramatic effect?”
He made her wait long enough to see her squirm. Amy raised both hands in the air. “Okay, that’s long enough. Ding ding ding. Time’s up.”
“Bantering between a man and woman is nothing more than clever use of language—verbal sparring—and isn’t that what we’re doing right now? We both love it because it’s what we do.” He leaned closer. “Admit it. It challenges you, gets your blood pumping and excites you like nothing else.” He sat back in his chair, surveying her. “Trust me, it’s been a lot longer than you’d think.”
“I’m not going to hazard a guess.”
“I didn’t get where I am by being vague and pointless, Amelia.”
Amy released a deep sigh, but whether from resignation or exasperation, he couldn’t know. “It’s Amy, please. Just . . . Amy.”
“Why? Amelia’s a beautiful name. It suits you well.”
“Humor me.”
“Fine. I’ll only use Amelia when I’m perturbed with you, want your undivided attention—” he paused, wondering how she’d respond—“or am completely enamored with you. Here’s honesty for you: it’s difficult to maintain a relationship because I’m so . . . forthright, as you pointed out. Have you found that to be true, too?”
Taking another sip of her drink, she surveyed him over the edge of her glass. “Depends. Are you speaking in terms of personal or professional relationships?”
“Both,” he said. “But more in terms of a romantic relationship.”
“I . . . I . . .” For once, she seemed at a complete loss for words.
“Like I said, you and I are a lot alike.” Time to back off. He retrieved his readers from the inside pocket
of his suit coat and positioned them. Opening his menu, he was aware she did the same. “Do you see anything on the menu that sounds appealing?”
“I can’t seem to concentrate on the menu right now, thank you very much.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really. You?” When her gaze met his, his pulse accelerated to a dangerous level.
“Same. Want to go somewhere else?”
“As long as you don’t consider me a cheap date.” She graced him with another glimpse of those mesmerizing, chameleon-like eyes. “What do you have in mind? Provided it’s not your apartment or penthouse or wherever you live—or otherwise at odds with your Christianity or mine—sure, I’m fine with it.” Putting her napkin beside her plate, she rose to her feet and allowed him to help with her chair. That concession pleased him more than it should.
“Great. Shall we?” Time for Round Two. He hadn’t looked forward to anything more in recent memory.
Lead the way, Amelia.
Chapter 8
Pulling a small card from his wallet, Landon slipped it beneath the more-than-generous tip for a soda and iced tea. Amy figured it must be his business card. Apparently, the man never missed an opportunity. Finally a man who could challenge her—and irritate her. And attract her like no other man she’d ever met. Her words to Mitch about finding exactly this type of man smacked her in the face as she threaded her way through the tables on her way back to the front of the restaurant.
Waiting while Landon retrieved their coats, she hid her smile as the hostesses eyed him. What must it be like to be the subject of such adoration? After he helped her into her coat, she wrapped her long scarf around her neck and tucked the ends into the collar. A twinge of self-consciousness nipped at her, knowing he watched. “So many layers at this time of the year,” she said, tugging on her gloves.
“Do you need help?”
“Nope,” she said, “I can handle it this time. See?” She held up both hands. “All done. Ready to go?”
“Absolutely.” He ushered her closer to the front door. “I have an idea. Completely above board, in case you have any qualms.”
“I’m not generally a qualm kind of girl, but I’ll admit to a healthy curiosity.” Her fascination with him grew by the minute.
Landon held the door for her as they headed outside. When he whistled and raised his arm, a cab sped toward them before they could reach the curb.
“Very impressive.” She didn’t bother hiding her admiration. “That skill comes in handy, especially at this time of the year.”
Opening the door of the taxi, he stepped aside. “After you.” Ducking his head, he climbed in behind her and closed the door. “Central Park West, please.”
The driver turned in his seat and gave her a toothy smile. “Well, now, look who’s in my cab twice in one day. How’d I get so lucky? Must be fate. I called Angie earlier and told her about meeting you and what you said, and she got all excited.”
“Great,” Amy said. “I’ll look forward to it, but tell her to take her time and send her best work.”
As the taxi pulled into the flow of traffic, Landon leaned close. “Like I said before,” he said, voice lowered, “very impressive winning-over-the-taxi-driver skills.”
Her breath quickened. “You already said th—” Nearly nose-to-nose with Landon, she stared into those brilliant sapphire blue eyes. They were so clear, sharp and missed nothing. Thankfully, he moved a few inches away, breaking the spell. Turning her head, Amy stared out the window as the driver turned onto Fifth Avenue. A blur of shoppers, laden with bags, scurried into stores and boutiques. “I love seeing the stores decorated for Christmas and everyone’s in such a festive mood.”
“Are you from New York originally?” Landon’s question stirred her back to reality, making her grateful for good, basic getting-to-know-you conversation.
At least he didn’t know everything about her personal life. “I was born in California, outside LA, but my family moved to the Philly suburbs when I was six. I grew up there.”
“What does your dad do?”
“He was a pastor, but he died four years ago of a stroke. It happened quickly, and he didn’t suffer. It’s just hardest on those left behind.” The last part of her statement was a bit rushed and quiet, but she knew he heard.
“I’m sorry. Is your mother—?”
“She still lives in the home I grew up in. It’s one of those old rambling houses with lots of fun places to hide and a big backyard. Great for kids and animals.”
“And I know you have one brother, Mitchell, the hotshot Wall Street broker.”
Glancing back at him, Amy smiled. “He’d love to hear you call him that. He’s thirteen months older.”
“You two look so much alike I thought you might be twins.”
“It’s a common misconception—no pun intended—but no. We have a sister, Celeste, who’s four years younger than me. She graduated from Bryn Mawr this past May and works at a marketing consulting firm in Philly.” He was asking questions about her life, but she didn’t know much about his life behind the public persona. “So, tell me. Are you from New York? I don’t detect the accent, but I can’t pinpoint it otherwise.”
“Believe it or not, I was born in Texas. Austin.”
“That’s surprising. I never would have guessed.”
“Oh, believe it, darlin’.”
“Is that regret I hear?”
“Texas roots go deep and far, and when I go home for a visit, it doesn’t take long for the drawl to come back full force, and the Stetson and boots to come down from the shelf. With more dust on them than I’d like.”
“Some of my closest friends live in Houston.”
“Then you probably also know something about Texas pride.”
“Know about it, yes,” she said, “but understand it? That’s something else entirely.”
“I know we haven’t known each other long, Amy, but I’d like to be your friend, too.”
“Now, there you go again. I wouldn’t be with you in a New York cab going to points unknown if I didn’t consider you a friend, or a trustworthy acquaintance at the very least.” Twisting her glove-covered hands in her lap, she wondered where this conversation was headed. “Landon,” she said, hating the hesitancy in her voice, “here’s the thing.”
“Tell me.” He turned to face her and their knees bumped. “What’s the thing?”
You started it, so spit it out, no matter the consequences. It might spare you future heartache. “I get the strong impression you make it a habit to . . .” She hesitated and lowered her gaze. No way would she voice her thoughts aloud and she’d said too much as it was. Although she’d had her share of boyfriends, none of her relationships lasted more than a few months. Even Marco the bartender had made his intentions perfectly clear, but the man seated beside her was in a whole different league.
She didn’t expect Landon’s hearty laugh. “Surely you, of all people, understand you can’t believe everything you read. Or hear. Or see.” His gaze held hers. If it was possible, she sensed he could see past her insecurities straight to her soul. “Want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
His words startled her. “Not sure.”
After the driver pulled to a smooth stop, Landon opened the door and gave her hand a gentle tug. “We’re here. Come with me.”
“Do I have a choice?” Although she muttered it under her breath, Landon must have heard because he released her hand.
“You always have a choice. Say the word and I’ll take you straight to the church, no questions asked.”
The driver lowered his window and looked from her to Landon and back again. “So, are you two gonna stay or am I taking the lady somewhere else?”
A few more awkward moments passed. “Your choice, Amy,” Landon said, “but I’d really like you to stay.”
“Answer one question.”
Landon had the grace to appear repentant. “Anything.”
“How’d you know I was
going to church tonight?”
The silence between them grew uncomfortably long.
“Hey, buddy? What’s it gonna be? I gotta get moving already. Time is money.” Rolling his eyes, the driver drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“It was a guess, that’s all.” Landon’s eyes bore into hers, bright in the dim light of the street lamp. “You mentioned going to church most Sundays, and based on some other things about you, I figured you might attend a church service mid-week.”
For a moment, she wondered if he was mocking her, but his expression was full of admiration, his tone untouched by sarcasm or cynicism.
“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you,” he said, “but I’d really like it if you’d stay.” Pulling out his wallet, Landon handed a bill to the driver before positioning one hand on the back door. She wondered if he had one of his cards in his gloved hand, not that it was important.
Amy hesitated only a few seconds before nodding to the driver. “Please don’t let us keep you.” She avoided looking at Landon. If he wore a self-satisfied smile, she didn’t want to see it.
“Good enough. Thanks again, folks.” The man tipped his hat before pointing his finger at Landon as he closed the back door. “Mister, you take good care of Amy Jacobsen. She’s special, this lady.”
“I couldn’t agree more, sir.”
As the driver pulled away, Landon took a few steps closer. He was incredibly handsome in his black wool coat, his cheeks flushed with the cold night air and those unbelievable eyes resting on her. A shock of dark hair falling across his forehead made him look a bit rakish, the only aspect of his appearance slightly out-of-place. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Her feet were starting to feel numb or she’d be content to stand and stare at the man forever.
“For staying. And giving me an opportunity to redeem myself for my audacity and probably stepping completely over the line.”
She gave him a small nod. “Welcome. So,” she said, “where to next?”