see that the others weren’t expecting him to order an alcoholic beverage. After hearing everyone else at the table order coffee, tea or a soft drink, he turned to Sharon and asked, “Are we not supposed to drink at these things?”
“Claudia puts nondrinkers together,” she answered. “Did you check the wrong box on the application form?”
He hadn’t checked any box. That was the problem. Here he was at a dinner with people who supposedly had similar interests as he did—or in this case, as Tessie thought he had. He sighed. What had she gotten him into?
Again the urge to announce to the table exactly why he was having dinner with them was great. Except what would he say? That he was only here because his mother made him come? Good grief. He was thirty-five, not thirteen. No, these people wouldn’t understand why he’d attend a dinner simply to please his mother. It was better to say nothing and stick it out until Tabitha called. Then he could beat feet out of the restaurant and never return.
If there was one thing the Scotch on the rocks had done it was to get Sharon the nurse to turn her attention to the man on her right. Michael took a sip of the amber liquid, needing the hot, burning sensation it created as he swallowed it. As he set his glass down, he noticed a pair of eyes on him.
They belonged to a woman Claudia had introduced as Cassie and held a sparkle of amusement in them. She smiled at him and said, “So tell me, what’s it like being an animal doctor, Dr. Michael?”
He liked the sound of her voice. It was low and sultry—more like something he’d find in a lounge singer. A direct contrast to the fair skin and mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes.
“Probably quite different from an artist’s life,” he answered. Before he could say another word, the man to her right interrupted, changing the subject and capturing the artist’s attention.
Michael continued to watch her, surprised by the ease with which she managed to converse with a table of strangers. His initial impression that she was rather shy had obviously been wrong. Of all the guests at the dinner, she looked as if talking with strangers was a joy, not an anxiety.
Although the man to her right tried to monopolize her attention, she managed to include several of the guests in their conversation. Michael thought both men on either side of her appeared to be a bit smitten. Not that Michael blamed them. She was like a painting. The first time you looked at her you saw a pleasant scene, but the longer you stared, the more beautiful she became.
She had a rather free-spirited look to her, with her long, straight blond hair and pale skin. Her eyes weren’t warm, yet there was something about them that begged for you to try to understand the woman behind them. She wore very little makeup compared to the woman he usually dated, but then she didn’t need any. Her skin was as smooth as the petals found on the flowers in Tessie’s garden.
Michael found himself staring at her and becoming more intrigued with each passing moment. Although there was steady conversation on his side of the table, he repeatedly found himself glancing across the table and meeting the blue eyes of Cassie, the artist. And every time he did, those eyes would regard him with a glint of amusement that made him think she knew exactly how uncomfortable he was sitting there.
Although there were moments when the conversation included all eight guests at the table, most of the talk was between people sitting next to each other. That, however, didn’t keep Michael from listening to what others said. He tuned in specifically to what Cassie was saying. She was a skillful conversationalist, saying very little about herself yet gleaning information from others. It only made him more curious about her.
Everything about her was graceful. From the way her head tilted ever so slightly on her beautiful, swanlike neck, to the manner with which she ate her escargots. He found himself wondering just what kind of art she did with those long, slender fingers. But more than that, he wondered why she was looking for love through a dating service.
As the appetizer plates were cleared away, he found himself wishing that it had been the main course they’d just finished, because the women would once more move over a chair and Cassie would be next to him. But during the main course, his pager buzzed. He realized it was eight o’clock. Tabitha was right on schedule.
Intrigued by the artist and wanting the opportunity to talk to her when she moved next to him, he didn’t call his assistant. When the last of the dinner plates had been taken away, Cassie announced that it was once again time to change places.
She took the chair next to Michael’s right and gave him the same furtive smile she’d cast his way when he’d ordered the Scotch. “So, Dr. Michael. You never did answer my question. What’s it like being an animal doctor?”
“It’s a challenge,” he answered honestly, noticing that she had a tiny dimple in one cheek that wasn’t noticeable until you were close to her. “And please, call me Mac.”
“And do you like challenges, Dr. Mac?” she asked provocatively.
“Yes. Aren’t they the spice of life?”
“No, that’s variety.”
“I like that, too,” he answered with an equally flirtatious grin. “And what about you? What’s it like being an artist?”
“It’s incredibly frustrating.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Perfection is never easy to achieve.”
“And you strive for perfection when you paint?”
“Oh, it’s not my work that is perfect. It’s my subjects. Trying to reproduce beauty is in many ways a challenge, too.”
“Then we have something in common, don’t we?”
“Professionally, anyway.”
“What about the personal Cassie? What does she like to do when she’s not meeting the frustrating challenges of capturing beauty?”
“My art is my life,” she answered with a candor that surprised him. He expected some flirtatious banter, but instead she was sincere. “That doesn’t mean I work twenty-four hours a day,” she was quick to add. “But I do tend to get so involved with a project that I lose track of time.”
“That sounds like a warning.”
She smiled, another furtive grin. “Now why would I need to warn you, Dr. Mac?”
“Maybe because you know that all evening I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to finally come sit in that chair.”
She lifted both brows in a provocative invitation. “I’m here.”
“Yes, and I’m glad.” He leaned closer to her so that only she would hear his next words. “I’ve always thought dessert was the best part of a meal.” She laughed, a wonderful, throaty sound that did funny things to Michael’s insides.
“Then we have something else in common, don’t we?” she said, and picked up her fork and cut into the slice of cheesecake.
“Oh, I think we might have a quite a few things in common,” he said.
“Such as?”
“A mutual love of nature.”
