dread Scarlet turned the note over. Tonight. Nine. Be prepared for some lessons of your own.
Gram laughed, softly at first, then with utter amusement at Scarlet’s embarrassment.
“A healthy love life is a good thing. Is it anyone I know, then?”
Scarlet’s face heated to broil. “Gram, please.”
“Someone your granddad would approve of, for a change?”
She wished she could answer yes. Wished it with all her heart. But no one would be happy with her choice of John Harlan. No one.
Her grandmother patted her on the arm. “I won’t tell Patrick, if that’s your worry.”
“I’m just not ready to talk about it.”
“Sure, then, I’ll leave it alone for now. Oh. We’ll be taking the helicopter back to The Tides tonight, so you don’t have to be worrying about us seeing your young man in the morning.”
Like there was any way she would let John come over tonight, knowing that Patrick could change his mind and be there in the morning.
“Have a wonderful time at the opera,” she said to her impish grandmother.
“I don’t suppose you’ll be visiting us this weekend?”
Scarlet laughed. “Good night.” She headed to the indoor staircase, appreciating, as she always did, the calm, tasteful decor of the town house, decorated so similarly to The Tides. Maeve Elliott knew how to bring peace to a place—and a person.
When she reached her floor, she went straight into her room and dialed John’s number.
“You got my balloon?” he asked, his voice full of sexy promise.
“My grandmother got your balloon.”
“What?”
Good. At least she’d shocked him in return. “I was reading your lovely note about Saturday, while she was reading your more direct note on the other side.”
The sharp, succinct curse that came next made her relax, although she didn’t know why.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“That you could spend the night.”
A long pause, then, “I beg your pardon?”
“You didn’t sign your name to the note, so she doesn’t know it’s you specifically, but she made it clear that my young man could spend the night. She and Granddad are taking the copter home tonight.”
A pause ensued. “I’m not willing to risk that,” he said.
“Neither am I.”
“Are you disappointed?”
She waited a couple of beats to answer him, not because she didn’t know the answer but because she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know exactly how disappointed she was.
“I’m going to take that as a yes. Saturday night is still a go, though, right?”
“Of course.”
“Scarlet? About Saturday night … Is that to be a Woo U date, like a real first date?”
“You mean with no fringe benefits?”
“I’m just trying to know what to expect. Having two different—and opposite—relationships doesn’t make things simple.”
“It’s a first date,” she said. “We’ve already straightened out a few errors you’ve made in the past. Let’s see if anything else needs fixing.”
“All right.”
She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed, but she could guess. She didn’t know how well she could stick to her own rules herself. She was still revved up from Saturday night at the country club. Just sitting next to him at the meeting today had made her wish they could find a dark corner somewhere and put an end to the aching need.
“Goodnight, John,” she said as cheerfully as possible.
“‘Night.”
Scarlet changed into casual pants and a top, grabbed a leftover chicken Caesar salad from the refrigerator, then settled on the sofa with her sketch pad. She’d been unusually creative lately, ideas flowing so easily that she had already filled one pad and was halfway through another, in barely a month’s time.
A psychologist would say she was sublimating—diverting her forbidden desire for John into a socially acceptable substitute, like designing an entire clothing line. After more than an hour she set aside her pad and wandered to the living-room window. People walked along the sidewalk, going to or coming home from dinner, probably. Singles moved along in haste. Couples strolled.
When was the last time she’d been on a date? Gone out to dinner with someone other than Summer or a girlfriend? Sometime during the past year she’d given up trying to irritate her grandfather by dating men he wouldn’t approve of. She’d been asked out during that time, but had made excuses not to go.
Looking back, she realized she’d stopped dating when John and Summer had started getting serious, and Scarlet had begun falling in love with John. She’d spent a lot of time at home, sewing. Summer had been worried about her, had often invited her to come along with her and John. Scarlet had made so many excuses she’d run out of creative ideas.
The irony, of course, was that her grandfather would approve of John—if he hadn’t once been engaged to Summer. Patrick wouldn’t tolerate scandal. He’d even forced Aunt Finny at age fifteen to give up her baby born out of wedlock, in order to save public face. Scarlet figured Fin was fighting so hard to win Patrick’s corporate game because she’d harbored so much resentment for him these twenty-plus years since having her baby taken away.
Scarlet didn’t want to become like Fin. She wanted to make peace with Patrick. But there was no way she could make peace by pursuing John for anything beyond this month of stolen nights. People would talk too much, especially this soon after the breakup.
She wished she were brave enough to end the relationship now, but she wasn’t. Only a couple more weeks, then the choice would be taken from her.
The phone rang, slicing into her thoughts, for which she was grateful.
“What do you think about using Une Nuit as a locale for a shoot?” John asked without saying hello. “Models seated at a table, looking at a menu, the name of the restaurant right there for the world to see.”
“I think it could be considered a conflict of interest, since my cousin Bryan owns the place. Is he a client of yours now?”
“Brand-new.”
“I thought Bryan liked to fly low under the radar. And last I heard he had reservations booked until the twelfth of never.”
“I can’t tell you what his plans are.”
“Can’t
