A Pretend Proposal: The Fiancée Fiasco / Faking It to Making It / The Wedding Must Go On. Элли Блейк
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though it might be, occupied his thoughts through the salad course, and had his gaze straying time and again to the prim mandarin collar. He imagined himself unfastening the top button, albeit with a bit more finesse than he’d exhibited the previous night, and then working his way down.
He reached for his ice water and downed half the glass before setting it back on the table.
“So, tell me about your day?” He worked up a smile. “Any success stories to share?”
He’d asked the question as much to break the silence as to redirect his thoughts. Whatever his motives, though, he was rewarded with a smile.
“One of our clients read Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You? today. Aloud. Cover to cover. Dr. Seuss in case you’re wondering.”
“My mom used to read it to me. It was one of my favorites as a kid.” He smiled, surprised by the happy memory. He’d locked away so much of his pre-accident childhood that the good had been banished along with the bad.
“Mine, too. Anyway, our client got through the entire story with no mistakes. And there wasn’t a dry eye in the room afterward.” Elizabeth’s eyes grew bright now at the recollection. “He’s thirty-four, has twin toddler daughters and when he first came to see us more than a year ago his goal was to be able to read them a bedtime story.”
“Now he can. That’s nice. For him and for you.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her. “Your job must be very satisfying.”
“It is.” She sipped the diet cola she’d ordered. “What about you? What did you do today?”
“Nothing quite as rewarding as hearing someone read their first book.” He shrugged. “Mostly I shuffled through paperwork with Waverly’s chief financial officer. We had plans for an expansion, but they’ve had to be put on hold. Some of our financing fell through. Now, we’re busy trying to line up some other investors.”
“That can’t be easy in this economy.”
“About as easy as reaching your endowment fund’s goal.”
“You’re making that possible.”
Though she smiled after she said it, the warmth of a moment earlier was gone. She returned to business mode and, before long, had him hauling out the form she’d filled out. Before the waiter came to ask if they wanted dessert, Thomas had a bad case of indigestion, but he knew that Elizabeth had once owned a guinea pig named Ziggy, a floppy-eared bunny named Kip and a pair of goldfish she’d called Bonnie and Clyde.
How was it possible, Thomas wondered, that even though he knew a lot more about her, he found her more of a puzzle than before?
After they finished their meal, he drove her back to her car in Literacy Liaisons’s parking lot. The ride had been nerve-gratingly quiet. Now, as he stood next to her car after opening the door for her, the mood progressed from strained to outright awkward.
“Good night.” He leaned in to kiss her, intending a quick, chaste and perfunctory peck, but she stuck out her hand instead. It poked him just below his breastbone.
“Sorry.” She coughed. “I know you said we should get used to kissing and pretending to be affectionate with one another, but I’m really not comfortable doing that.”
This came as a surprise, and not necessarily a good one. Here he’d been steeling himself for physical contact, determined not to let a simple kiss boil out of control, and she was essentially telling him thanks, but no seconds for me. He’d never had a complaint when it came to his kissing and Elizabeth hadn’t seemed to mind it the previous night. In fact, she’d participated rather enthusiastically, if memory served correctly. His ego had Thomas pointing that out.
“You seemed pretty comfortable last night.”
“Yes, well, I think it blurs the lines a little too much given the true nature of our relationship.”
“Uh-huh.”
She swallowed and he needed to believe her expression held some regret before she added, “But don’t worry, Thomas. When we’re around your grandmother, I won’t pull away if you put your arm around me or anything.”
“Gee, that’s good to know.”
“As for the rest, if she asks, maybe you could just tell her that Beth isn’t comfortable with public displays of affection.”
He didn’t remind her that he no longer thought she look like a Beth. The name was beside the point. She’d referred to herself in the third person. If that didn’t imply distance, Thomas didn’t know what did. What could he do but respect her wishes? He shook her hand, bid her good-night. Just before she slipped into the car, he told her, “I’ll have that questionnaire filled out and faxed over first thing in the morning.”
By the time Thomas arrived home twenty minutes later, he was feeling particularly cranky. The house, a large ranch-style on a cul-de-sac in a newer subdivision populated with professionals, was quiet. Though the evening air was hot and humid, he turned off the air-conditioning and opened the windows. The sound of crickets, however, did little to ease his agitation. Nor did filling out Elizabeth’s questionnaire.
His inseam and sleeve length? Really? Thomas might have found her attention to detail amusing if not for the fact that he had dozens of questions when it came to the woman, and not one of them focused on her clothing sizes.
Two hours later, he was pacing his bedroom when the telephone on the nightstand rang.
“Tommy, hello,” Nana Jo greeted him when he answered. “I wasn’t sure I would catch you at home.”
A glance at the clock showed it was after ten. Worry came instantly, as it always did where his grandmother was concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine. Just getting excited about the weekend.”
“I am, too.” It was the truth, for the most part. He always looked forward to seeing his grandmother.
“I can’t wait to meet Beth. You’re both still coming, right?”
“On Friday, yes.” He pushed aside his nerves. “In fact, she and I talked about the weekend over dinner tonight.” He had to admit, it felt really good not to have to lie to his grandmother, even if he still wasn’t being completely truthful.
He heard the smile in her voice when Nana Jo asked, “Did you take her to a fancy restaurant with candlelit tables and strolling violinists?”
“I don’t know that they have those anyplace but in old movies,” he replied. “We ate at an Indian restaurant. It was more comfortable than fancy, but our table did have a candle on it.” He recalled the way the flame had reflected in Elizabeth’s dark eyes. “It was nice.”
“An Indian restaurant. I’ve never been to one. It sounds exotic and spicy.”
Thomas smiled at Nana Jo’s assessment. “Elizabeth has an adventurous palate.”
“Is she with you now?”
“Nana Jo, she’s not that kind of girl,” he said on a laugh that only served to mock his libido. “Besides, we both have to work in the morning.”
“I know how young people are now. I’m just pleased you decided to get married rather than move in together. That seems to be what everyone does nowadays. But when it’s right and you’re in love, why not make it legally binding?”
Because Thomas found what his grandmother was saying to make way too much sense, he decided to end the conversation.
Thomas figured he would see Elizabeth again before the weekend, but it didn’t happen. They spoke by telephone a couple of times, and she’d emailed him once to let him know that she’d received his fax. Other than that, nothing.
He had to admit that he was disappointed, especially when she turned down his offer to see a Hitchcock film at the restored Michigan