them.’’ That pleased him. He finished his iced tea.
‘‘Would you like some more?’’ she asked. ‘‘I also have some cookies. Peanut butter, and chocolate chip.’’
‘‘Homemade?’’
She filled his glass with ice, then poured in more tea. ‘‘Of course. They taste better and they’re cheaper.’’
That got his attention. She was a widow with two children. Was money a problem? He remembered her concern about prices at the restaurant on Saturday, then he glanced around the room and wished he knew enough about residential real estate to be able to estimate the value of the house. He could price commercial buildings in the loop to within a penny per square foot, but this market was beyond him.
Had Darren left her a decent insurance policy? He wanted to ask, but it wasn’t his business.
Beth set a plate of cookies in front of him. He took one of each and ate them. ‘‘Perfect,’’ he announced.
‘‘Jodi made the peanut butter ones, and I did the chocolate chip. I’m not expecting you to claim a favorite.’’
‘‘Definitely the chocolate chip.’’
‘‘Liar.’’ But she was smiling as she made her charge. Smiling in a way that made him want to sit at her table for a long time, just listening to her talk about her life. There was something to be said for simple pleasures shared with a woman close to his age. Why hadn’t he ever dated someone like her?
‘‘We should finish our date,’’ he said impulsively. ‘‘You barely tasted your drink and we didn’t have dinner. Let’s go out some night. I promise to do a better job of picking a restaurant. There won’t be any bone marrow flan in sight.’’
She was still standing and took a step back as he made his request. She folded her arms over her chest in a protective gesture. ‘‘It’s really nice of you to ask, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m not ready to get involved. I mean, to go out. I don’t think you’d want to get involved with me. Why would you? Actually, we don’t have anything in common. I know that. You’re being kind and I appreciate it. But the two different worlds thing…my kids, your busy schedule. It just isn’t a good idea.’’
She was babbling. Todd told himself she didn’t know what she was saying and that he shouldn’t take any of it personally, even though it was damn hard not to.
They stared at each other for a full minute while Todd tried to think of some way to respond to her assorted statements. Beth jumped in to fill the silence.
‘‘It’s me,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m not your type. I’m too old, almost forty and not attractive enough. I mean, I think I’m fine compared with, well, you know, regular women. But you date model types. They’re so skinny and young and I’ve had children. Two.’’
She took another step back, bumped into the wet bar and came to a stop. ‘‘To be honest, I’m busy that night.’’
This time there was no way to tell himself not to take it personally. She’d been doing fine…right up to her fatal mistake. ‘‘I didn’t suggest a specific night.’’
Beth could feel the heat flaring on her face. Her skin felt like it was on fire. She could only imagine what incredibly bright color of red stained her cheeks. Talk about putting her foot in her mouth. The worst part was she hadn’t meant to be insulting or rude or whatever else Todd was thinking of her. She just couldn’t figure out why he was being so nice. He wasn’t really interested in her, so she was simply trying to give him a polite out. What was that old saying? No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.
None of this made sense. She didn’t know why he’d shown up at her house or why he was asking her out again. Everything she’d told him was the truth. Especially the part about them having nothing in common. Although, if she was honest with herself, she sort of wished they did. Todd looked really great sitting in her kitchen. Just being close to him made her heart act as if she was in the high-intensity portion of a step aerobics class at the gym.
It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, although that was certainly true. It was that she liked being with him. He was a nice guy. She hadn’t spent much time in the company of men in the past eighteen months and she’d missed that. Since Darren had died, Todd was the first single man to actually have a conversation with her.
Speaking of which, she owned him another apology. ‘‘I didn’t mean anything bad by what I said. I don’t understand why you’re asking me out. I wish I did. You’re a great guy and it’s not that I don’t like being with you—I do.’’
‘‘So what’s the problem?’’ he asked.
A reasonable question, to which she had no reasonable answer. If only she didn’t feel so quivery around him. ‘‘While you make me incredibly nervous, I also feel really comfortable around you. I think I can say anything and you’ll understand. Do you know how much trouble that means? As you’ve already noticed, I have a great talent for saying the wrong thing. I would spend all my time apologizing. That would get old.’’
‘‘Not for me,’’ Todd said. ‘‘You are the least boring woman I’ve ever met.’’
She beamed. ‘‘Thank you.’’ While she would have preferred he said she was stunningly beautiful and incredibly sexy, she would settle for least boring, even if the compliment sounded a little too close to ‘‘best of breed’’ at a dog show.
He rose to his feet. He was a couple of inches taller than Darren, maybe six feet or six one. As he moved toward her, the kitchen started shrinking. Her throat tightened. Unfamiliar heat rose in her body and she didn’t know whether to bolt or strip.
‘‘You owe me, Beth,’’ he said when he was a scant foot away from her. ‘‘You ran out on me and now you owe me a date. I’m the kind of man who collects what’s due him, so don’t think you’re going to get out of this one.’’
He was so…demanding and manly. She was embarrassed to find herself shivering, and not in horror. And to think she’d never liked the he-man type. Still, there was something to be said for masterful.
‘‘But I—”
He held up his hand to stop her in midsentence. ‘‘This Saturday night you and I are going out. I won’t take no for an answer.’’
‘‘I can’t,’’ she said. ‘‘I have too much to do.’’
He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘‘Try a different line. That one’s not working.’’
‘‘It’s not a line. I have to plant flowers in the morning, help with concessions at Matt’s baseball game in the middle of the day. At four o’clock is a pool party for several of his friends. By seven in the evening, I’ll be little more than a tired, sweaty puddle. I don’t think you’d be very interested in taking me out then.’’
His gaze narrowed.
‘‘I’m not lying,’’ she insisted, mostly because she wasn’t. Some Saturdays were brutal.
‘‘I’m out of town on Friday,’’ he said, ‘‘So we can’t do it then. It has to be Saturday.’’
