License to Love (6 page)

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, you’re right, there are some subjects that ought to be avoided during dinner. Traumatic childhood memories, for one.” Her tone was light, but she shifted uneasily. “I don’t know what possessed me to inflict mine on you.” An embarrassing lapse, another sign of her moldering social skills, no doubt.

She quickly sought to make amends. “Look, it’s starting to snow,” she exclaimed, glancing out the window. Her smile and her voice were very bright. “I don’t remember any of our esteemed area meteorologists predicting that. Don’t tell me they’re wrong again! Remember last year when they predicted a blizzard with at least ten inches accumulation and instead the day turned out to be fifty degrees and sunny?”

Steve knew it was his turn to chime in with an amusing anecdote about weather and the hapless foibles of those predicting it. Michelle was behaving exactly as he had directed, smiling brightly and chattering about bland generalities, keeping it light and impersonal. Why on earth did he have the perverse wish to revert to their earlier conversation, which had been emotional and revealing and entirely too personal? There was no need for him to know—no reason for him to wonder—

“What happened after your dad left?” he asked suddenly.

Michelle looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “I thought we agreed to talk about something else.”

“Well, I-”

“There’s no reason for you to politely pretend an interest in my distant past,” she said dryly. “I don’t even find it very interesting.”

“I’m not politely pretending interest. I am interested. Why did your folks split up? Did your father decide he wasn’t into marriage and kids, like Cassie’s ex?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that,” she said quickly. “In fact, two years after the divorce, Daddy married a widow with three children. They adored him and he was devoted to them, too. My father is very much a family man. It was his career that broke up my parents’ marriage. Dad was a career Army officer and Mom hated moving from post to post. She demanded that he give it up and he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He’d been an Army brat himself and he loved the service.” “Mmm, that is a tough one. I can’t see giving up my work for anyone or anything.”

“Me, either. I never blamed my father for choosing the Army, but my mother never forgave him. She’s still angry with him, even though she’s been remarried to a perfectly nice man for the past twenty years.”

“Whew! Talk about holding a grudge!”

“My sentiments exactly.” Michelle shrugged. “Enough Carey family history. If we’re swapping life stories, it’s your turn to tell me more about the Saracenis.”

“There’s not much to tell. My parents were high school sweethearts who were born and raised in Merlton and are still living there. Grandma lives with them and so do Cassie and her two kids. My sister Jamie lives less than twenty minutes away with her husband and new baby.” He shrugged. “It works for them, they’re happy. But all that togetherness makes me claustrophobic. From the time I was in elementary school I wanted to get out, to have more, to do more, you know?”

“No.” Michelle shook her head. “That’s my dream life— an intact family in the same place, always there for you. My family is scattered all over the country and always has been.”

So, she was looking to recreate what she’d lost so long ago? Steve gulped. Maybe he should’ve come up with a weather joke, after all. Instead he told another kind of joke, one currently making the rounds at the Capitol. If she’d heard it, she didn’t let on and laughed appreciatively at the punch line.

The conversation seemed to naturally drift to less personal topics, most of it centering on the latest news and gossip circulating the state political scene. They found they had a number of acquaintances in common.

“I’m surprised we never met before this,” Steve remarked after the waiter removed their salad plates.

“I don’t do much socializing,” Michelle confessed. “My work takes up so much of my time and energy, I don’t have much left over for anything else.” Which wasn’t entirely true, she knew, but it was an acceptable excuse, one she used so often she was almost beginning to believe it herself.

“A good deal of my work is socializing,” said Steve. He launched into his familiar spiel, the one he’d crafted for the frequent question, What exactly do lobbyists do?—even though Michelle hadn’t asked it.

“Lobbyists go to fund-raisers, parties, luncheons, and dinners on behalf of charities, cultural groups, political action committees and campaigns. You name it and we’re there, wherever the state legislators are. The name of the game is access. Even the appearance of access is a large part of the exercise.”

It sounded like a hellish existence to Michelle. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Tired of going out?” Steve was flabbergasted by such a radical notion. “Never! I can’t think of the last time I spent an evening alone, sitting around my apartment. Hmm, maybe when I had the flu five years ago. I had to vegetate in front of the tube for three nights and I thought I’d go nuts. No, I love the night life. There isn’t enough of it for me in Harrisburg so I drive into Philadelphia or Washington or New York City for ball games or parties or shows. I have friends there and—”

“Your social life spans four cities?” Michelle interrupted, awed. “And you have women that you date in each city?” Did they greet him by crawling all over him and panting with delight.
In four different cities?

A four-city social world. She could hardly take it in. Pride kept her from admitting to him that the span of her social life barely included the city limits of Harrisburg. But she had no trouble admitting to herself that this was her first and last date with Steve Saraceni. Even if he did manage to find time to sandwich her in between everybody else, everywhere else what was the point? In the annals of dating, he’d achievet world-class status while she—didn’t even qualify as a footnote!

There were too mismatched, too far apart, and not only geographically.

“I have
friends
in those particular cities,” Steve reiterated. Looking across the table at Michelle, he could almost feel her withdrawal. “That doesn’t necessarily mean, uh, women I date,” he added expediently.

But of course, it did, and they both knew it. He’d made a serious miscalculation in revealing the extent of his peripatetic social life, Steve realized ruefully. Michelle hadn’ been impressed as his dates usually were. She was appalled

Her expression, her tone of voice, her entire response reminded him of his sister Jamie’s reaction to his rollicking tales of adventure. Terrific, he thought grimly. Until he’d met Michelle, his intransigent little sister had been the one person in the world he couldn’t charm, the one person in the universe who didn’t look upon him with favor and indulgence. Now, it seemed, there were two of them—Jamie
and
Michelle.

Weirdly enough, he’d always secretly wanted Jamie’s approval. Even more unfathomable, he realized that he also wanted Michelle’s. He wanted her to gaze at him the way she’d done earlier. He remembered the warmth in her smile when they’d talked about his grandmother and wanted to see it again.

He tried, he really tried. Since Michelle had reacted favorably to his grandmother, he reintroduced her as a topic, shamelessly recounting a plethora of Grandma-and-Steve stories.

Michelle listened politely, but remained aloof, untouched and uninvolved. And stayed that way for the rest of the meal. And though Steve was at his amusing, charming best, though he radiated what had heretofore been fail-safe appeal, she remained impervious to it, to him.

It wasn’t easy for her. Only a stone could stay unmelted by those warm dark eyes of his, Michelle mused grimly, and so she concentrated on being one. She had to work hard at maintaining a cool smile when she wanted to laugh out loud at his often hilarious stories. She had to stay constantly on guard to keep from falling under the potent spell of his charm. He was so attentive, so eager to please her. Michelle was exhausted as they rose to leave. Remaining impassive to his winning ways had required extraordinary effort.

It was only the knowledge that countless women in four cities undoubtedly did
not
remain impassive or on guard, and succumbed regularly to those well-practiced winning ways of his, that strengthened her resolve.

The snow was falling, fast and thick, as they left the restaurant. A surprising amount had accumulated during the two-and-a-half hours they’d been inside. They watched a car skid on the snow-covered street while another spun its wheels futilely, trapped on an icy patch.

“This storm came up so fast, I guess it caught the roac crews by surprise,” observed Steve. “There’s been no snow removal at all from what I can see.”

Michelle glanced nervously at a car fishtailing around the corner. “Do you have snow tires or chains?”

“On my car?” He was aghast. “Not on a bet.”

She gazed up and down the street at the cars slipping, sliding and stuck in the snow. And Mr. Macho scorned snow tires and chains. “Driving is going to be murder. We’ll be lucky to get off this street.”

“My car drives like a dogsled in snow,” retorted Steve. He started down the front walk that the restaurant personne had cleared with calcium chloride crystals.

Michelle followed, pulling the belt of her coat tighter. It wasn’t a very warm coat, designed more for style than colc temperatures. As an icy blast of wind swirled snow arounc her, she thought longingly of her boxy blue and gray goose-down parka hanging in her closet. It even had a hood! If she were wearing it now, her hair wouldn’t be whipping arounc her head, and her neck and earlobes would not be flash-frozen. But she had opted for this coat, to be attractive for Steve. On their first and last date. Michelle sighed gloomily.

Unlike the private walk, the sidewalks hadn’t been cleared, and Michelle watched Steve tramp through the snow ahead of her. She glanced regretfully at her velvet shoes. They would never be the same after the block-long trek through the snow. Shivering, she prepared to step into one of Steve’s footsteps to follow the trail he was blazing.

And then, suddenly, he was back at her side. Michelle, who’d ducked her head low against the howling wind,jerked it up in surprise. And then gasped as she felt herself being lifted off her feet. “Wha—what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” growled Steve. “I’m carrying you to the car.”

He skidded, but managed to regain his footing almost immediately. Unnerved, Michelle clutched him around the neck. “We’re going to fall! Please, put me down!”

“We’re not going to fall and I’m not putting you down. I’m going to carry you so you can’t blame me for ruining your shoes like I ruined your evening.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Michelle said stiffly. The wind sent a blast of snow in her face, cooling her flushed cheeks.

Steve trudged through the blizzard, carrying her, his breathing growing more labored but his jaw stubbornly set.

“I know you had a lousy time tonight, Michelle. You were simply going through the motions, putting in time and waiting for the evening to be over.” It was a strong speech for a perennially cool, uninvolved, nonconfrontational kind of guy, but Steve was glad he’d said it. "Don’t bother to deny it,” he added.

“All right, I won’t,” Michelle said quietly.

They reached his car. Steve held her as he opened the door and deposited her inside, her shoes and feet dry and snow-free. His were soaked and cold. A less chivalrous soul might’ve dumped her in the snow—and with just cause. He brushed off the snow from the car before he stomped around to his side to get in, commending himself on his gallantry.

She hadn’t denied that she was glad the evening was over, that she hadn’t had a good time!
He’d been half expecting her to tell him that he had been reading her all wrong and he was prepared to believe it. Unfortunately he had been right on target.

Neither said anything as the car’s engine roared to life. Steve easily steered the car out of the parking space and into the street. The windshield wipers worked diligently to keep the glass free of snow, but the flakes were falling so thick and so fast that it was a losing battle.

“The visibility is horrible,” Michelle said anxiously. “Do you think you should pull over and—”

“Do what? Sit in the car and freeze until it stops snowing? No thanks. I’ve never had any trouble driving in the snow. I don’t anticipate any now.”

He’d no sooner uttered the words when the car began to fishtail. “We’re at that bad corner.” Michelle gulped. “The one none of the other cars—” Her voice rose into a terrified squeak as the car shot across the road. A telephone pole was looming.

Three

Michelle glanced at Steve manipulating the steering wheel with both hands and pumping the brake with his foot before she covered her eyes and braced herself for the collision ... which didn’t occur.

“You can open your eyes now,” Steve said tersely. “We’re still on the road.”

Michelle snapped her eyes open and she gazed around her. The pole was behind them and the car was hugging the curb, inching along as the snow continued to fall with blinding fury.

“You did it,” she breathed. A powerful surge of relief made her feel giddy.

“Of course. Didn’t I tell you this car drives like a dog-sled?” He didn’t feel as calm and cool as he sounded. They’d missed that pole by mere inches. The adrenaline that had suffused his system, sharpening his reflexes and his dexterity in the emergency, began to slowly abate. He took

a few deep breaths and tried to ignore the wild thundering of his heart.

“So that was ‘mush’ I heard you muttering under your breath?” Michelle teased. “That’s odd, it sounded remarkably similar to a certain swear word.” She was lightheaded from the near miss, she felt like giggling and weeping at the same time. Careening toward the inexorable wooden strength of a telephone pole could do that to a person.

Steve braked to a stop at a traffic light—or tried to. The car slid through the intersection, fishtailing crazily. Fortunately there were no other cars on the road, so it didn’t matter that they spun around in a complete circle.