He waited. And waited some more. Finally he asked, more a complaint than a question, “Well, aren’t you going to say you like me too? It’s only fair, after you made me say so.”
“Can’t you tell?” She smiled.
He rubbed his chin in mock deliberation. “Well, you haven’t thrown anything at me lately, and you’re not twisting your hair into knots. Oh, and you’ve never called me Howard by mistake. Or Galahad.”
She laughed and said, “I’m working on liking you, Danny boy, I’m working on it. It takes a little effort, but I’ll keep trying.”
When they pulled into Whaler’s Drive, the whole street was bright with the glow from Louisa’s house. “What, were you throwing a party?” Dante asked as he turned at the old oak into her driveway, behind her car.
“No, I just don’t like coming home to a dark house. And I thought the dog wouldn’t feel so lonely.”
“With a light on in every single room?”
She shrugged. “The TV is on for him too.”
“Speaking of the beast, that’s some watchdog you’ve got. I haven’t heard a peep out of Champ.”
“No, he only barks when I’m home, it seems. I think he is alerting me, not guarding the house. He’s had so many homes, the poor baby, that maybe he doesn’t feel possessive about this one yet. I think he’s still confused about his name. Silver Crown’s Mental Image, Midge, Galahad, Champ. He doesn’t know who he is.”
“He might be confused about his sex, too.”
Louisa ignored him and opened the car door, her keys in her hand. Dante opened his. “Oh, you needn’t see me to the door.”
“Aunt Vinnie would have my head if I didn’t.”
Louisa walked carefully across the grass in case she missed cleaning up after the dog. She opened the front door and Champ bounded out, barking and leaping at her, wagging himself silly, as if she’d been gone for days instead of hours.
“At least he knows his owner,” Dante said, looking on at the reunion. Finally acknowledging that someone else was there, the terrier came toward Dante. He lifted his leg on a bush first, as if to establish that he was top dog, and Dante was merely one of the pack.
“I’m not in the contest, Champ. She’s all yours.”
Louisa was uncertain what to do next. Should she invite Dante in, offer him coffee? Or say good night and offer her hand to shake?
She rubbed her feet, which were now cold and wet from the dewy grass, against each other. “Well, thank you.”
Dante was not taking the hint to leave. “So have you forgiven me for having money and property?”
“I’m happy for you, of course. It’s not that I wanted you to be poor. No one should be.”
“And we’re friends, now, right?”
Louisa wondered what he was getting at. “Yes?”
“Then how about telling me what happened to your shoe?”
Louisa smiled, and that’s when Dante kissed her. He bent his head, slowly lowering his lips toward hers. He didn’t ask permission, but the question in his eyes meant Louisa could have said no.
Sure she could have. Right after she flew to Alpha Centauri. She was mesmerized, paralyzed, energized. She was so ready she raised her face closer, sooner, yes. Oh, yes, without thinking. If she stopped to think, she’d kiss the dog instead. There was no time for thoughts, and hours ’til their lips met.
He was smiling too. Oh, Lord, he was smiling, so sweetly, so knowingly. His lips were smooth and warm and firm and sent sparks down her spine. No, those were his hands, rubbing electricity through her silk blouse. She was already melting when the tip of his tongue parted her lips and touched her teeth, her tongue, her soul. He tasted of…popcorn? No matter, now she was smoldering, every breath they shared fanning the fire. God, he kissed even better than he looked. And he looked…stunned.
Dante dropped his arms, which had somehow found themselves under her blouse. “Damn.”
“Damn?” Louisa was shattered. No, she was already in shards from the kiss. Now his horrified look splintered her self-esteem. “You…you didn’t like it?”
He was halfway back to his truck. “I liked it. Too frigging much.”
Chapter Seventeen
Dante almost ran back to his truck. He didn’t care what he stepped in. He was knee-deep in trouble already.
He did not want a woman. He especially did not want a woman on the rebound, out of loneliness or gratitude or sheer proximity. He mightn’t be the only fish in Louisa Waldon’s sea, but he was the one almost in her net, so he ran.
He did not want a woman, damn it. Dante was content with his life, and he’d worked hard to get it just the way he liked it. He had his friends, his boat, his golf clubs, plenty of rewarding, satisfying work. He didn’t want a woman with more issues than National Geographic, one who’d share her bed with her babied dog, her bitter memories. Hell, Humpty Dumpty Howard would be watching the humping.
But, oh, how he wanted Louisa Waldon in his bed, in his arms, all around him, part of him.
He wouldn’t do it. He thought of Aunt Vinnie matchmaking, his cousin Francine wanting to be Louisa’s friend, his ex-wife asking his intentions. His intentions were strictly dishonorable, and a good cowboy didn’t dirty his own ranch, not when he wanted to keep living there.
So he jumped on his trusty steed and rode into the sunset. He shoved the truck into reverse, anyway, and drove back into the night, as chilled as if it were October, instead of June.
Louisa was glad he left. At least she convinced herself she was glad he left during a hot shower, scrubbing the last of Alvin and the Albatross away. Who knew what might have happened if Dante had stayed? She might have invited him in, and they’d have sat on the couch, which sagged so they’d be touching. He might have stroked her, out of pity and consolation, and she might have let him, because his hands felt so good, which he would take as an invitation, as he’d done with that kiss. And then they might have gone upstairs so the dog wouldn’t see, and she’d have to worry if he had protection. (Was she supposed to buy them now that she was not an almost-married, one-man woman?) Which meant she would have lost the mood, remembering Howard and the horrors of dating. But he wouldn’t have lost it, not a hot number like Dante. And he would have proceeded anyway, and she’d have let him, because he was nice and that’s what he wanted, and she hoped to enjoy herself. But she wouldn’t, not after the foreplay, and she’d be bored or seasick, like she was with Howard, or bumping her head on the bed frame. And he’d be disappointed there were no fireworks, so she’d never see him again anyway, which would be worse after they’d been intimate. And she’d have to change the sheets.
So it was a good thing he was gone. And stayed gone. Louisa was too busy for a fling, anyway.
She got the job at the library, a phone call from Francine, flowers from Alvin, and a new pair of sandals.
Francine wanted to know if she could drive Aunt Vinnie to Teddy’s last game. “I can’t get out of a meeting that day, and Dante has to drive a bunch of other kids. He said you wouldn’t mind. Okay? Oh, and how about lunch on Tuesday? There’s a special at the Triangle, and I have a discount coupon.”
Alvin brought a hanging basket of geraniums, fancy pink ones with purple centers. She liked them a lot better than she would have a bouquet of flowers to toss out in a week. Alvin helped her screw a hook into the porch roof so she forgave him, a little.
“I had too much to drink,” he said by way of an apology. “You know how it is.”
Louisa was noncommittal, admiring the plant. She’d never assaulted anyone, even in her one, one-day depth of drunkenness.
“I thought you were fried, too. You know, the shoes.” He picked up a brown grocery bag from the porch steps and dumped out her Gian Todaros.
“You found my sandals?” Louisa was busy wondering if a combination of ammonia, vinegar and bleach would kill the germs, corrode the leather or explode. She did not stop to wonder how Alvin had located both shoes.
“I was kind of hoping they
might convince you to go out with me again. You know, to celebrate having them back.”
Celebrate cesspool sandals? The look of horror on Louisa’s face made Alvin quickly add, “Not to the Albatross, but to a movie.”
“Thank you, but I’m sorry. I’ve already seen it.”
“How could you when you don’t even know what’s play— Oh, I get it. Well, I can’t blame you, I guess. Dante said the flowers might do the trick, but I didn’t really believe him.”
“Dante?”
“You know, Mr. Rivera.”
“What, he holds a mortgage on your garage and threatened to have you evicted if you didn’t come apologize?”
“I was going to come apologize anyway, I swear! The plant was his idea, is all.”
There was a connection Louisa was not making, like a short circuit somewhere. “How…?”
“Oh, he came back to the Albatross to tell me you were home safe.” Alvin had the grace to blush for not thinking of how she’d get back, he’d been so mad at her for tossing his keys. “He drove me home too, once we found the keys and locked the car up. It took an hour, but he said you’d been trying to save my life, so I’m not mad anymore.”
“That’s nice of you.”
Alvin was not big on sarcasm. “Anyway, I went in to tell Pete to look after my wheels, and he handed me your shoe. Then Dante said he knew where the other one was. That took another hour. Cleaning up his truck took another one. I couldn’t get up in time to drive my mother to church Sunday morning.”
Alvin went to church? “I’m sorry about that. What happened to Dante’s truck?”
“You don’t want to know, but he said your dog did it too. Anyway, I guess we’re even now, and you still want me to put that pet name on your Porsche model?”
“Even, and yes, I still want that, ah, endearment on the little license. Oh, but I need to apologize about your brow-ring.” She reached toward the Band-Aid over his eye.
“That’s all right. I was tired of it anyway. I’m thinking of having a tattoo put there, to hide the mark. What do you think?”
“I think that might be lovely.” As long as he didn’t write “putz” there.
She didn’t wear the sandals. She left them on the porch to air—for a week—and bought rubber flip-flops at the corner souvenir store instead. Bright orange, with big plastic flowers on them, they were the cheapest pair of footwear Louisa had ever owned, and she adored them. She loved how they actually made a sound like their name. Only a soul that soared would dare to put on orange onomatopoeias. She was flying. She had a job and a friend, Francine, not Alvin, and someone to impress, Teddy, not his uncle.
She wore her new sandals to the last ball game, with a yellow linen sundress. What was she saving her fancy trousseau for, anyway? She tucked a sprig of honeysuckle in the clip that kept her hair off her face, and felt like Cinderella going to the ball in glass slippers. Or Dorothy in her ruby ones. Anything could happen to a girl in special shoes.
She picked up Dante’s aunt—Teddy’s grandmother, that is—and cheered herself hoarse. With Francine not there, Louisa felt she had to encourage Teddy and his team twice as loudly. It must have worked, for they played better. Teddy bunted and got to first base. The team lost anyway, and now they were out of the play-offs.
“Thank heaven,” Aunt Vinnie whispered as they watched Teddy and his friends shake hands with all the winners. Louisa thought she’d miss the games, miss watching the children just being children, and watching their coaches being kind, caring, and heart-stoppingly handsome.
Then Teddy was rushing over to pet Champ, declaring Galahad a sissy name for such a primo pet. Teddy was thrilled with his personal rooting section and his success, despite the loss. He was even more excited that the coaches were taking them out for pizza, ice cream, and miniature golf afterward, because it was the end of the season and they’d played hard and been good sportsmen. The other team was still jumping up and down and pounding on each other in the middle of the field, which Louisa thought was somewhat insensitive of the victorious little buggers. Teddy was reenacting his magic bunt when Dante came to fetch him.
“A word with you, Mr. Rivera, if you have a minute,” Louisa said, nodding politely.
“Uh-oh, Uncle Dan. You’re in trouble,” Teddy said, running back to his friends. “I can tell. We’ll wait in the truck.”
“What?” Dante wanted to know. “You wanted flowers and an apology from me, too? It was only a kiss.”
Only a kiss? Louisa was about to add that to the items she wished to discuss, but then she remembered her companion. Thank goodness Aunt Vinnie was talking to a man in a Dodgers jersey, telling about going to Brooklyn for a game, last year. Even Louisa knew the Dodgers were in Detroit now.
She climbed down the bleachers with care until she stood on the lowest step, which put her at Dante’s eye level. It would have, that is, except that his eyes were on her legs in the short yellow dress. He was smiling appreciatively. Only a kiss, hah! “That is not what I wished to speak about.”
He raised his eyes, and one dark eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Did you speak to someone at the library? Mrs. Terwilliger said someone made a personal recommendation that swayed the board to decide in my favor.”
“I told one of the board members that I thought you’d be a good worker. Was I wrong?”
“Of course not. I intend to be the best computer data enterer they’ve ever had.”
“They’ve never had one.”
Louisa ignored that. “Did you send Alvin to my house?”
“He was going to apologize eventually. He might have gone a little sooner.”
“Did you threaten him?”
“I might have, if he hadn’t looked so pitiful on his hands and knees in the grass.”
“Looking for his keys or my shoe?”
“Wishing he were dead, I believe.”
“What about Francine? Did you tell her to invite me for lunch?”
“I told her you might be busy after this week.”
“And Rico?”
Dante didn’t bother to feign ignorance. “I didn’t need him at the other jobs, so I told him to look at your roof. I’m paying him by the week, so he doesn’t care where he works. So what’s your point, Louie? The kids are waiting for their pizza.”
“The point is I thought we were friends.”
“And I did my friend a couple of little favors.”
“No, you took over. Friends don’t try to manage each other’s lives. That was part of our agreement. You were to stop treating me as a helpless female or a little sister.”
“Alvin convinced me you weren’t helpless. And I never kissed my sister like that.”
Louisa looked over her shoulder to make sure no one heard him. “You know what I mean.”
“But I don’t remember agreeing to anything like that.”
“Well, remember it from now on. I do not want your interference.”
He nodded and turned to head for his truck, then turned back to face Louisa. “Then I suppose you don’t want to hear about the job I found for you.”
“I already have a job. One I found for myself.”
“This one is part-time too, so you can keep the library position. Unlike the library, this job actually pays. Real money.”
Louisa was interested despite herself. “How real?”
“Personal assistant to a retired celebrity writing his memoirs? It’s only for the summer, but I’d say it will cover the cost of your new roof, at least.”
Louisa was looking down the gift horse’s throat, her eyes narrowed. “What would I have to do?”
“Help him with the computer stuff he hates, organize his papers, but mostly keep people from bothering him when he’s writing.”
“No, ah, hanky-panky?”
“I’d say Wesley Bradford could find all the hankies and pankies he wanted, if he’s not too old to care. He does like looking at pretty women.”
“Wesley Bradford, the famous art crit
ic?”
Dante nodded. “He’s mostly been lecturing these last few years, and consulting at museums. He’s been spending summers here for years, at the big house on the hill overlooking the bay. He always brings a secretary-companion, usually a graduate student or a budding artist. Always brilliant, always gorgeous.”
“But he’ll hire me?”
Dante grinned. “His aide broke her leg last week so he’s desperate. He’d stay on his own but he had a stroke this winter. The doctors don’t want him overdoing it.”
“I wouldn’t have to cook or clean, would I?”
“Mr. Bradford has a live-in cook-housekeeper, Marta, Rico’s girlfriend.”
While Louisa was thinking, she absently said, “You shouldn’t encourage Rico in that affair. He’s a married man.”
“What, I should interfere in someone else’s life? Me?”
Louisa shook her head. “So what’s the catch with the job?”
“Does there have to be a catch?”
“There always is. Offers that sound too good to be true usually are.”
“Hm, let me think. Well, you will have to drive his Mercedes. And attend all those boring cocktail parties and gallery openings with him. Oh, and he likes someone to sit on the beach while he swims, in case he gets a cramp or caught in an undertow.”
“And I can still work at the library?”
“He has a physical therapist who comes three days a week. You could coordinate with him.”
Louisa shook her head. “So what’s the catch?”
“It’s only ’til fall. Mr. Bradford goes south for the winter, but you might have enough weeks in to qualify for unemployment.”
“I can really have the job?”
“If you want it.”
Louisa jumped off the bleacher step, into Dante’s arms. “I want it!” She kissed his cheek. “I want it, you incredible man!”
“So I am not an interfering, managing, condescending clod anymore?”
“Of course you are, but you’re a wonderful clod!”
Chapter Eighteen
Despite Dante’s assurances, Louisa knew she had to pass an interview with Mr. Bradford. No one hired a secretary-assistant sight unseen. She dressed with care in one of her charcoal gray business suits, silk blouse, and heels.
Love, Louisa Page 13