“Around the corner.” She tilted her head to the side street next to the medical building. “Where’s the theater?”
“Only a few blocks from here. So how about it?”
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. A movie meant little time for small talk, which meant she might find out something useful without giving anything away. Seeing one of her favorite movies on the big screen was a bonus.
“Okay,” she said.
His dimples deepened. “Okay.”
As they walked to her car, he gave her directions in case they got separated. She tried to pay attention, but her stomach tightened at what he must be thinking about her eleven-year-old Honda Civic. The rusted spots seemed to take on a noticeable and vibrant hue beneath the streetlamps.
Shoving her not-good-enough feelings aside, she unlocked the driver’s door. So what if she didn’t drive something new and shiny. At least she worked for what she had.
Until she’d gotten fired.
More accurately, forced to resign. But it amounted to the same thing.
Brett grabbed the door as she opened it and slid into the seat. “Follow me to the light and take a left.”
“Got it.”
“Good.” He shut the door and waited.
The engine coughed, then smoothed into a solid hum. She lowered her window. “Something wrong?”
“Just wanted to be sure you got it started.”
“I usually do.” Her voice held that defensive snap she hated.
“Usually?”
She swallowed a sigh and gazed up at him. “We’re going to be late.”
“You’re right.” He tapped the window frame, then jogged to his car.
A few moments later, she pulled onto the street behind his Lexus and gripped her steering wheel.
She was on this lonely street to spy on Brett Somers. How in the world had she ended up on a date with him?
– 2 –
Brett ushered “Regina Lampert” into the auditorium, then practically bumped into her as she suddenly stopped. He smiled, amused at her awestruck expression. The opulent reds and the golds of the historic theater never failed to impress.
“It’s magnificent,” she said softly.
“I’m glad you think so.” While juggling their concession stand purchases, he placed his hand on the small of her back, then gently prodded her along. “My grandmother helped raise funds for its restoration a few decades ago. This theater was one of her favorite places.”
“Is it one of yours?”
Brett shrugged noncommittally. “I haven’t been here in a couple of years.” Gran had been his date then. Now he was here with a girl whose name he didn’t even know. All because the blare of an ambulance had yanked his attention to where she stood, her slender body appearing tense in the light of a lowering sunbeam.
Somehow her frailty had reminded him of Amy. A younger, less jaded Amy.
Apparently his big brother instincts had kicked in, because a moment later he was at the girl’s side ready to offer a broad shoulder for her tears. That hadn’t been necessary, but next thing he knew, he’d invited Miss I’ve-Got-a-Secret to a movie.
The mystery surrounding her was almost enough to tempt him to break his dating sabbatical.
Almost, but not quite. He didn’t need the distractions of a romance when he had so many other things to figure out. Like how to persuade Meghan to give him a chance. To let her know he had changed.
The mystery girl paused beside a row of seats in the center section. “Is this okay?”
“Fine.” He took his seat and glanced around. “I think we’re the youngest people here.”
“Do you care?”
“Nope. You?”
“I’m used to listening to a different drummer.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded, a thoughtful expression in her eyes.
“I must say, you surprise me.”
“Why’s that?”
“You just don’t seem the type.” He purposefully kept his voice casual, though he knew exactly what he was doing. Teasing her. Baiting her.
“What type?”
“The spontaneous type. When’s the last time you went on a date with someone you just met?”
“Never.” Her mouth puckered in confusion, and she slightly shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not spontaneous. I’ve just never been in a situation like this before.”
“What’s the last spontaneous thing you did? Besides giving me an alias.”
Her eyes flickered as if she were considering and discarding answers. Finally, she swallowed and lifted her chin defiantly. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know your name isn’t Regina Lampert. I know you don’t live around here.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“You have a Hamilton County license plate on your car. That’s almost a hundred miles south. Do you live in Cincinnati?”
“Maybe I recently moved here and haven’t had time to get new plates.”
“Did you?”
Instead of answering him, she carefully unwrapped her hot dog and opened a mustard packet.
He leaned closer. “I know you don’t have a serious boyfriend.”
“How could you possibly know that?” The exasperation in her voice matched her puzzled expression. Her brown eyes appeared almost black in the auditorium’s dim lighting.
“You’re here with me. And you haven’t checked your cell since we’ve entered the theater.”
“Neither have you.”
“No reason to.”
“So you’re not seeing anyone special?”
“Do you think I’d be here with you if I were?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“So you’ve known me all of about fifteen minutes, and you’ve already labeled me as a modern-day Casanova?”
Her lips pressed into a tight line as her shoulders lifted.
“You don’t trust men, is that it?” He tilted his head. “Tell you the truth, neither do I.”
“You don’t trust men?” Her voice sounded skeptical.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe because I am one. I know how we are.”
“So I shouldn’t trust you?”
“You can trust me to be the perfect date. To see you safely to your car, safely home if you want, even if that means driving to Cincy.” He flashed a smile. “You can trust me to be just like Peter Joshua.”
Her lips curled upward. “Cary Grant’s character in Charade.”
“That’s right. Did you know it bothered Cary when Audrey Hepburn was cast in the role of Regina? Because she was so much younger than he was?”
“I know he had them rewrite the script so she came on to him instead of the other way around.”
“A movie trivia gold star for you.”
“But you’re not as old as Peter Joshua.” Her eyes widened in fake innocence. “Are you?”
So the girl did know how to flirt.
“I’m almost thirty.” He made a show of appraising her. “I’m guessing you’re a few years behind.”
“Five or six.”
“Too young for me.”
“So you prefer a woman closer to your own age?”
“Let’s just say, I prefer a woman who’s old enough to understand the rules.”
“What rules?”
He hesitated, tempted to flirt and tease. But this was a one-time date, not a one-night stand. He had no intentions of playing The Game with this girl.
“The rules are complicated.” And designed to break women’s hearts. “Primarily, they are ‘no commitments’ and ‘no recriminations when I walk away.’”
“I see.” She turned away, but not before he saw the pink rise in her cheeks.
How had this conversation gotten so offtrack?
“Anyway, you can trust me to behave myself. Regina.”
She didn’t answer, and a moment later the lights faded. The low hum of conver
sation ceased as the screen flickered to life.
“It’s Dani,” she said in a low whisper.
Brett bent his head toward hers so they almost touched. A delicate fragrance, cool and flowery, surrounded him. “What?”
“My name is Dani.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Dani.”
“You too, Brett.”
As the trailer for an upcoming movie played on the big screen, Brett settled deeper into his plush seat and surreptitiously appraised the young woman beside him. Her brown hair, the color of darkest honey, partially covered her profile as she squirted a line of mustard along her hot dog.
If she was telling the truth about spending too many Friday nights alone it wasn’t because of her looks. She might not be as beautiful as the women he dated, but her Bambi eyes and sun-kissed complexion gave her a classic girl-next-door freshness. Not to mention her tendency to blush.
Though not the gal for him, she was a nice distraction for one lonely night. In a couple of hours, Cary Grant would drive into the night with his leading lady safe in his arms. Then Brett would go his way and Dani would go hers.
Wherever that way might be. And as long as her clunker of a car didn’t conk out on her.
– 3 –
As the curtains descended over the screen and the lights came up, Dani hurriedly swiped away a tear.
“Are you crying?” Brett asked.
“Seeing this movie on the big screen . . .” She exhaled with delight. “It was absolutely magical.”
“Not such a bad way to spend a spontaneous Friday night?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m glad you agreed to come.” He gathered their trash and stuffed it in an empty popcorn bucket. “Though if I’d planned ahead, I would have invited my cousin and his fiancée to join us.”
He’d mentioned before that his cousin was engaged. An interesting nugget of information but not much help. An engagement certainly didn’t explain why Brett was outside the hospital.
“They’re nuts about these movies,” he continued.
“Isn’t everybody?”
“No one I’ve ever dated.”
“I suppose most women prefer chick flicks.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes. But the classics are my favorites.”
“They quote Cary Grant lines to each other.”
“Who does?”
“My cousin and his fiancée.” He pretended to gag. “Sickening, I tell you.”
“Didn’t you say earlier you dated your cousin’s fiancée?”
“We ‘not-dated.’”
“What does that mean?”
“Long story. And if I told you, you might want to slap me.”
He didn’t need to know she wanted to do that anyway. For a blissful couple of hours she had gotten lost in the black-and-white world of post–World War II intrigue. But the glamour of the evening had faded with the brightening of the lights. And so had the magic that allowed her to forget that the man munching popcorn beside her had pummeled her heart.
“I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I used to be a cad.” He smiled, but a pained expression flickered in his eyes.
Again the image of him outside the hospital seared her thoughts. But she couldn’t afford the luxury of feeling sorry for him. Right now, she couldn’t afford much of anything.
The wordplay of her thoughts tickled her even though her dire financial circumstances too often made her sick to her stomach. But Brett must have taken her amused expression as a response to what he’d said.
“Told you,” he said teasingly. “Hard to believe.”
“Not really.” She stood, pulling on her purse strap. Her bag knocked against the seat’s cup holder, tilting her drink. Both she and Brett scrambled for the cup, but the lid popped off, and watered-down soda spilled onto his pants.
Could the floor open up and swallow her now?
“I’m so sorry.” She grabbed a napkin, then didn’t know what to do with it.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, then wished she hadn’t.
“You’re always apologizing.” The drunken voice echoed in her head. “Take your sorries out of my sight.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Brett grinned as he took the napkin from her. “It’s not the first time a young lady has spilled soda on me at the movies. Though that particular young lady is only three.”
The depth of those dimples made it impossible not to smile in return.
“You were at a movie with a three-year-old?”
“Why sound so surprised?”
“Because you don’t—”
“Seem the type?” His eyes slightly narrowed. “Considering we just met this evening, you’re making a lot of wrong assumptions about me.”
“So, who is she?” She tried to sound nonchalant, as if the answer didn’t really matter. But what if it did? Could the three-year-old be the child in the hospital?
If Brett did have a child in the hospital . . . She pushed aside the thought. Never would she use a defenseless child to get back at him. The very idea made her nauseous.
“She’s a little monster disguised as sugar and spice and everything nice.” He dabbed at his khakis, not that it seemed to do much good, then stuffed the useless napkin in the popcorn bucket with the rest of the trash. “My cousin is getting a wife and two daughters when he says ‘I do.’”
“To the woman you not-dated.”
“That’s right. They’re planning a Christmas wedding.”
A sudden onslaught of jealousy ripped through Dani. She’d never seen this woman, knew nothing about her. But unexplained envy consumed her. Apparently Brett had a past relationship with her and now she was engaged to his cousin. Some women seemed to have all the luck when it came to men falling in love with them.
She turned away and walked toward the exit, sensing Brett following her. He probably thought she was behaving like that three-year-old. Or even worse. But she didn’t care.
Except she did.
If she didn’t already know what she knew about him, she’d be flattered he’d asked her out. He’d been polite, respectful, even fun. And she had enjoyed the movie. But she couldn’t forget the other side of him she’d seen. The one that had stirred up painful memories and sent her sprawling into a dark abyss.
Suddenly unable to breathe, she clung to the strap of her purse as if to a lifeline. Air. She needed air. Squeezing between an older couple and the wall, she rushed through the door and into the lobby.
Brett caught up to her, placed his arm around her waist, and propelled her away from the departing crowd.
“Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
She took a deep breath and focused on a vintage movie poster in its gold frame. Then breathed again and again. Slowly, the iron-clad grip on her chest eased.
“You look like you’re about to be sick.”
“I’m fine. Really, I am.”
He searched her eyes as if trying to read her mind, then shook his head. “Then what happened?”
“I’m just . . . embarrassed.”
“About spilling the drink? It was an accident. As much my fault as yours.”
“I’ll pay to have them cleaned.” The words came out softer than she intended, and she cleared her throat.
“They’ll wash.” His voice was soft too, and he squeezed her hand. “Like I said, not the first time.”
“But I’m not three.”
“Wouldn’t have asked you to the movies if you were.”
Nor if he knew who she really was.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure.” To avoid his gaze, she glanced around the lobby. “This theater is so beautiful.”
“Picture-worthy beautiful?”
“Yeah.” Her heart quickened as her photographer’s eye set up imaginary shots.
“I think they have tours.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Maybe we can catch one sometime.”
Hi
s words sounded sincere, but something in his expression led her to believe he was only being polite.
She inwardly sighed at the sting of another rejection. On a lonely Friday night, this handsome man had asked her out. But he wouldn’t again. Not that she’d accept if he did.
She slightly cleared her throat. “Watching Notorious on TV will never be the same.”
“There is something special about seeing the classics on the big screen. Especially in a theater like this.” He gestured around the lobby. “It has a history. Almost as if it’s a character in its own story.”
Startled, Dani caught his gaze and raised her eyebrows.
“What?” Brett asked.
“That was rather fanciful. You surprise me.”
“Because I’m not the fanciful type?”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You’d be right. I’m not. But after watching a movie like that, I can imagine living in the days when women wore stockings and men wore hats.”
“Would you like to live in those days?”
“It was a simpler time, I suppose. Though the people living in them might not have thought so. Especially not during the war years.”
“I suppose every generation has its challenges.”
As they walked toward the theater’s elaborate double doors, Brett’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned. “You mind if I take this?”
“Of course not.”
He nodded thanks, then answered the call. “Everything okay?” A pause. “You’re where?”
Dani discreetly stepped away but surreptitiously glanced at Brett as he ran his hand over his eyes as if irritated.
“Do what you want. You always do.” He jabbed at the screen, then joined her, an uneasy smile pasted on his face.
“Anything wrong?”
“That depends.” He flashed his dimples.
“On what?”
“If you’re free tomorrow night.”
“Excuse me?”
“I have this thing to go to. A banquet. My sister just canceled on me, so . . .”—he shrugged helplessly—“I don’t have a date.”
“You were taking your sister?”
“Not to brag, but I’m one of the guests of honor. I wanted to make it a family thing. My cousin and his fiancée are coming too, so it’s not really a date-date.”
When Love Arrives Page 2