The Dating Game. Sandra Field
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It’s happening again, Julie thought with a quiver of inner amusement. I seem to be gathering every man in the room around me.
The gym teacher, with all the subtlety of a ten-ton truck, had just revealed that he was newly divorced, when Julie glanced past his shoulder and saw Teal Carruthers. With another spurt of inner laughter she saw that if she was gathering the men he was like a magnet to the women. He was winning, though; he had six women to her five men.
‘I wonder if I might give you a tour of our new computer-room, Mrs Ferris?’ Mr Bidwell asked, bridling with old-fashioned chivalry.
‘I’m sure Mrs Ferris would be more interested in the soccer facilities,’ the gym teacher interrupted, giving his boss a baleful look.
‘Actually,’ Julie said, ‘I’d like to meet Danny’s music teacher—she’s over there talking to Mr Carruthers. If you’ll excuse me, please?’
Giving them all an impartial smile, she crossed the room to the cluster of women around Teal Carruthers. He was openly watching her approach, his expression unreadable. His lightweight trousers and stylish striped shirt were casual clothes in which he should have looked relaxed; he looked, she thought, about as relaxed as a tiger in a cage.
It was an odd image to use of a man so outwardly civilized. She gave him a cool smile, said, ‘Good evening, Mr Carruthers,’ and waited to see how he would respond.
With uncanny precision he echoed her own words. ‘If you’ll excuse me, please?’ he said, flicking a glance around him. Then he took Julie by the elbow and walked her over to a display of books. ‘I see you have the same problem as I do,’ he said.
‘You were one up on me,’ she answered limpidly.
‘But then you’ve only lived here just over a month.’
‘You mean it’s going to get worse?’ Julie said with faint dismay.
Deliberately he looked her up and down, from the smooth, shining fall of her hair to her fine-boned feet in their pretty shoes. ‘Very definitely, I’d say,’ he drawled.
She was quite astute enough to realize he did not mean the words as a compliment. His fingers were still gripping her elbow, digging into her bare skin with unnecessary strength. ‘I’m not going to run away,’ Julie said, and saw with a primitive thrill of triumph that she had finally managed to disrupt his composure.
With a muttered word of apology Teal dropped his hand to his side, furious with himself for that small betrayal: he hadn’t even realized he was still holding on to her. Standing as close to her as he was, it was no trouble to see why any red-blooded male under the age of ninety would be drawn to her, for besides being beautiful she exuded sensuality from every pore.
Her lips were soft and voluptuous, holding an unspoken promise that the imperious tilt of her cheekbones belied, a contrast that could be seen as both challenge and snare. Her body, curved and graceful, bore the same paradoxical blend of untouchability and beckoning. Although her height and slenderness made her as modern-looking as any model, her smile was both mysterious and ageless.
In the kitchen of her house he had wondered what color her eyes were. He now saw that they were neither gray nor blue, but shifting like smoke from one to the other. Chameleon eyes. Fickle eyes, he thought cynically.
‘You don’t like me very much, do you?’ Julie said levelly.
He raised his brow. ‘You believe in speaking your mind.’
‘Life’s short—it saves time.’
The women who pursued him always seemed to be smiling. Julie Ferris was not smiling. Suddenly exhilarated, Teal said, ‘No—actually, I don’t like you.’
Not wanting him to know that his opinion of her had the power to hurt, Julie chose her words with care. ‘I was worried about Danny adjusting to the city and to a new school when we moved here, and I’m very happy that he and Scott are friends. It’s really immaterial whether you and I like each other—but I wouldn’t want our feelings to get in the way of the boys’ friendship.’
‘I’m quite sure we can keep meetings between us at a minimum, Mrs Ferris,’ Teal said, and watched anger spark her eyes with blue.
‘I certainly have no desire to do otherwise.’
‘Then we understand each other,’ he said. ‘Ah, there’s Scott’s homeroom teacher; I must have a word with her about my son’s appalling spelling. Good evening, Mrs Ferris.’
Julie watched him walk away from her. He was not a stupid man; he knew she didn’t like being called Mrs Ferris. He had been needling her on purpose.
He really didn’t like her.
Her thoughts marched on. In her kitchen she had labeled him as the most attractive man she had ever met. Attractive now seemed a flimsy word to describe him, and civilized a totally meretricious word. Sexy would have been more accurate, she thought shakily. Close up, the man projected raw magnetism simply by breathing; he was dynamite. As clearly as if he were still standing in front of her she could see the narrow, strongly boned features, the unfathomable gray eyes and cleanly carved lips. He had a cleft in his chin. His lashes were as black as soot. Not to mention his body...
Julie wriggled her shoulders under her tunic, trying to relax, and began searching the room for the music teacher. Dynamite has a tendency to blow up in your face, she chided herself. Dynamite is deadly. Besides, you were married to a man with charisma and you know darn well where that got you.
Learn from your mistakes, Julie Ferris. Which means, as Mr Teal Carruthers so succinctly phrased it, that you should keep meetings between you and him to a minimum.
An absolute minimum. Like none.
She caught the music teacher’s eye and, smiling, walked across to meet her. Half an hour later, having assiduously avoided the gym teacher, she left the school with Danny and went home. She went to bed early, and woke up the next morning to the delightful knowledge that she had the next two days off. The sun was shining and the birds were singing...wonderful.
After Danny had gone to school, Julie took her coffee on to the porch and sat in the sun with her feet up. She felt very content. She had done the right thing by moving to the city, she knew that now. It had seemed an immensely difficult decision at the time, to leave the old country house where she had lived throughout her marriage; yet increasingly she had wanted more opportunities for Danny than the tiny local school could offer, and her own job at the county hospital had been in jeopardy because of cut-backs.
But there had been more to it than that. Inwardly she had longed to leave the house where she had been so unhappy, a house that had come to represent Robert’s abandonment and betrayal; and she had craved more life, more people, more excitement than weekly bingo games and church socials.
She loved living in the city. On all counts except for the men she was meeting she had more than succeeded in her aims. Although she supposed there were those who would call her date with Wayne exciting.
She finished her coffee and went to two nurseries, loading her little car with flats of pansies and petunias and snapdragons. Home again, she changed into her oldest clothes and got the tools out of the little shed at the back of the garden. The spades and trowels were so clean she almost felt guilty about getting dirt on them. Almost, she thought happily, loosening the soil in one of the geometric beds and randomly starting to dig holes for the transplants. She disliked formal gardens. Too much control.
An hour later the hose was sprawled on the grass in untidy coils, the snapdragons were haphazardly planted among the box-wood, and a fair bit of mud had transferred itself from the beds to Julie’s person. Singing to herself, she began scattering nasturtium seeds along the edges of the bed.
A man’s voice said over the fence, ‘Good morning, Mrs Ferris.’
The only person other than Teal Carruthers to call her Mrs Ferris was her next-door neighbor, a retired brigadier general called Basil Mellanby who lived alone and would not, she