she didn’t trust him.
“I figured you were hungry.”
“Starved,” he assured her, letting his eyes tell her what kind of hunger he was talking about. She got the message. Her cheeks flamed again. He was almost ready to change his favorite color to rose, a beautiful dusty rose under peach-colored skin.
Instead of preceding him down the stairs, she suggested, “You go first.”
He was about to grow concerned that he’d teased her too much.
Then she added, “It’s my turn to enjoy the view.”
“My pleasure, sweetheart,” he assured her, grinning, and headed down. At the bottom, he turned to wait for her. “Okay?”
“Fine.” She avoided looking at him.
They got in the car, but he didn’t start the engine. “Just for the record, you’re not a virgin, are you?”
“Why?”
“You seemed a little uncomfortable with our conversation Wednesday night. It occurred to me that you were less experienced than I expected.”
She looked out the window rather than at him. “Just because I don’t normally discuss sex with men doesn’t mean I’ve never— No, I’m not a virgin.”
“Good.” He started the engine and backed out. “I’ve chosen another restaurant this evening. I hope you like Italian?”
“Yes, I love it.”
Okay, so he’d made the right choice. She’d be more relaxed, and he’d learn even more delightful facts about Dr. Elise Foster. It was so hard to picture her as a college professor.
“Do you like teaching at ASU?”
She looked surprised. “I love it. I love the French language. It’s beautiful, lyrical, and I love sharing it with others.”
“I bet your students love the language, too, when you’re finished with them.”
“You make it sound like I force-feed them.”
“No, I suspect you seduce them,” he said softly, imagining listening to her for an hour, a smile on his lips.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Sorry, just a phrase. Listening to your voice is such a pleasure, I think you could convince me of anything.”
“I didn’t mean to overreact, but in this day and age, we have to be very careful.” She folded her hands in her lap.
“Maybe I should’ve found a French restaurant and let you order for us,” he suggested.
She rolled her eyes. “Why? You speak Arizonan as well as I do. You don’t really think the waiter would be French, do you?”
“Surely there are some Frenchmen in Phoenix.”
“There are, but they’re usually the chef, not the waiters. I’ve had several come speak to my classes.”
“Do you cook French dishes?”
He was surprised by the suspicion that filled her gaze.
“Why? Are you hoping I’ll cook for you instead of your mom? Or cook a meal for you to impress someone?”
The tension in her voice confused him. “I was just making conversation, Elise, trying to get to know you. What did I do wrong?”
She looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t explain the problem. What is it?”
“M-my fiancé didn’t want me to have a career unless it was entertaining his clients. The only schooling he wanted me to bother with was Cordon Bleu 101 so he could impress them.”
“I hope you kicked him out on his behind.”
“My family didn’t have that reaction.”
“Well, they should’ve. You weren’t hiring on to be his housekeeper. You were going to be his wife. Didn’t he care about what you wanted?” He thought the guy sounded like a jerk.
They’d reached the restaurant, and he parked. Then he turned to look at Elise. She hadn’t responded to his statement. “Elise? Did I hurt your feelings? Are you all right?”
She blinked rapidly before looking at him, but he could still see the tears pooled in her eyes. “James, don’t be—be so charming, please. I can’t—”
“What are you talking about?”
“No man has ever— Even my family thought I was crazy because I objected to Richard’s agenda.”
“What did your brother say?”
“Chance? Oh, he didn’t say much. He tried to stay uninvolved in what he called ‘emotional girl stuff.”’
“That was probably smart,” James agreed with a chuckle, “but it would’ve been better if he’d supported you.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “This looks like a nice restaurant.”
Clearly she was ready to change the subject. “I haven’t tried it before, but it came highly recommended.”
Once they were seated inside, he decided he’d made the right choice. Each booth had high backs and swinging saloon doors, giving them the illusion they were in a small room all alone. “Guess no one will interrupt us here,” he said with a smile.
“I hope at least the waiter stops by, or we’ll starve to death,” Elise returned, smiling now too.
James was relieved. He didn’t want her unhappy, but he felt as if he’d uncovered a lot in the short drive. When he combined the information about her fiancé and her taking care of her six sisters, it was easy to understand her resistance to marriage.
A thought suddenly struck him. “Richard is the only man you’ve slept with, isn’t he.”
The waiter opened the swinging door. “Good evening, I’m your waiter for the evening. Richard is my name.”
Elise turned a bright red.
ELISE LET JAMES do the ordering. Since he consulted her on her preferences, he actually asked the waiter for exactly what she would have ordered. Richard used to order his own choices and expect her to like them.
She’d been an idiot ever to put up with the man.
The amazing thing was James’s agreement. She hadn’t expected him to even understand her problem with Richard’s attitude, much less support her. She’d told Phoebe and Daisy about Richard’s controlling nature, of course, in one of their late-night chats, and hadn’t been surprised when they’d agreed with her assessment of him. They were women.
The
