No More Lonely Nights (7 page)

She realized, with a start, that she hadn’t answered him. She was simply staring into his eyes. Quickly, she looked away. “I didn’t mind helping,” she said. She gathered her purse and hat. He didn’t move from his place. Did he intend to open her door or did he have something more to say? With her right hand, she reached across her left shoulder and unlocked the door.

Stephen looked startled by the action. “Oh, excuse me…” He hastily got out of the car, then came around to her side and held the door open. He politely extended his hand to assist her.

Dominique reached for his hand. Even before they touched, she felt the vibration, like an electric current. It sizzled through her. It was impossible that he did not feel it, too. She stood and found herself just inches away from him—almost in his arms. His scent teased her. A mixture of sandalwood cologne, leather, and soap.

Suddenly, two images flashed in quick succession in her mind, like slides on a projector screen. She saw Stephen’s wife, then Lieutenant Smythe. Both tall, blond, cool beauties. She compared them with herself: diminutive and unquestionably Gallic. Her heart sank. He wouldn’t be interested in her. She wasn’t his type at all.

She spoke automatically—words she didn’t even hear. “Thank you for the ride.” With a halfhearted smile, she turned and started to move away.

Then she heard his voice. Not loud at all. “Dominique…” Like a caress. “Wait, please.”

She spun around to face him, her eyes alight. “Yes?”

He stepped toward her. “Would you”—he paused, as if debating whether to go on. “Would you have dinner with me this evening?”

Dominique’s pulse thudded in her ears. “Yes,” she answered. She didn’t even think about fetching a wrap from her apartment. She was afraid he would change his mind in the interim. She just got back into the car. She wondered, only briefly, what he would do about Lieutenant Smythe.

They went to the Majestic, a convivial downtown brasserie. As they entered the etched glass doors, they were hit with a wave of sound. The restaurant was crowded with French and British military, and the roar of conversation echoed off the wood floor and high ceiling. Tables were closely packed, but there were dark red velvet booths separated from each other by panels of etched glass.

As soon as they were seated in one of the semicircular banquettes, Stephen ordered a bottle of light, dry Sancerre for them to sip. Then he excused himself. Dominique guessed he was telephoning Lieutenant Smythe.

When he returned, he slid into the booth, leaving a discreet amount of space between them. He looked at Dominique and smiled conspiratorially, his eyes silver in the light from the brass chandeliers overhead. He wore a look of exhilaration that made Dominique’s pulse race. What had he told Lieutenant Smythe?

Dominique didn’t have time to dwell on it, because Stephen turned the conversation to her. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you from the first time we met,” he said, still smiling.

The room was so noisy that Dominique had to ask him to repeat himself. Stephen edged closer and spoke more loudly. “You said you came here to escape your mother?”

He remembered? A thrilling sort of tension made Dominique’s heart pound faster. She leaned forward and raised her voice over the din. “Mostly that. Yes.”

Stephen cupped his ear and edged closer until they were side by side. “Surely, she didn’t finance such a move for you?” he said, now able to speak in a normal tone.

Dominique took a sip of wine to calm herself. She was reeling at the fact that she was actually having dinner with Stephen. She could feel the warmth of his leg, though it was not quite touching hers. It made it difficult to focus on their conversation. The last subject she’d expected Stephen to bring up was her mother. “No, you can be sure Mother’s not helping me,” she said with a crooked smile. “I’ve saved some money from birthdays and the like. And, luckily, I found a job immediately.”

“Your air force salary can’t possibly afford you the lifestyle you’re used to.”

Dominique shrugged. “I take the shuttle to work. I share my apartment with two other girls. And…” She was going to say that she dined out most nights, courtesy of the British Air Force. Then she thought better of it. She continued on another tack. “And I have enough clothes to last me a long while. Anyhow, I told my mother I’d quit my job next spring when it was time for us to go to France.”

Stephen looked startled. “That’s disappointing!” His features settled into a scowl.

“But you—the British, I mean—are pulling out of the Canal next year, aren’t you?” Dominique looked down, then reached for her glass and twirled it absentmindedly on the tablecloth. Talking about the future with Stephen disturbed her because she knew that after next year, she’d never see him again.

But Stephen’s next words lifted her spirits. “As you know, there’s some discussion about how quickly and completely we’ll pull out. Nasser, of course, wants us all gone by March. We’d like to keep a small force here for several more years.” He sighed. “We’re negotiating.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the waiter with their appetizers, escargots in garlic butter. When he left, it was Stephen who spoke first. “I’ve been wanting to do this for some time.” He gave her a sidelong look.

Dominique stammered, “I… you never…”

Stephen shrugged and stabbed an escargot with his fork. “I didn’t want to spoil a good working relationship.” He put his fork down and looked squarely at Dominique. “But I was afraid—with things as they are now—that if I didn’t take the opportunity, I might lose it altogether.”

Dominique stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. “I don’t understand. I thought you said there was no cause for alarm yet.” She heard the sound of metal on china before she realized she had dropped her hand to the table.

Stephen’s smile faded. “That doesn’t mean that my stay here is indefinite. We may not get what we want from President Nasser. Things are changing every day. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be stationed here.”

Dominique’s stomach flip-flopped. Her fingers released their hold on her fork. It slid from her hand and lay askew on the edge of her plate. “I would think you would be one of the last to go,” she said in a constricted voice.

Stephen’s jaw tightened. His expression was tense. “I’ll probably be one of the last sent back to England, but there’s trouble all over the Middle East. I may be assigned elsewhere in the region.”

Dominique looked down at her plate, trying to hide her dismay. Suddenly the sight of the snails swimming in garlic butter made her feel ill. She pushed the dish away and took a sip of wine, trying to cover her distress. She was so happy working with Stephen. Why did things have to change?

“In any event,” Stephen continued, “we’ve worked together for almost two months and… how shall I say this?”

Dominique held her breath and lifted her gaze to his. Stephen’s expression relaxed—his eyes flamed with warmth. He drew closer and said, “I wanted to know you better.” He paused. “You are… unique.” Very briefly, he brushed her hand with his index finger, then withdrew. “When I first saw you, I thought, ‘This won’t do at all.’” He gave her a mischievous smile. “I was certain your looks would be a distraction.”

Dominique regarded him skeptically. For the second time that evening, she mentally compared herself with the two blondes in his life.

Stephen gave her a questioning glance. “You don’t seem convinced.”

Dominique said nothing. Solange had indoctrinated her with the notion that she was less than attractive, but Dominique had learned enough about the allure of confidence to hide her insecurity. She didn’t fish for compliments to bolster her ego, because she felt it betrayed weakness. Instead, she met Stephen’s eyes with a challenging look. “Then why did you hire me?”

“Don’t you remember the state of my desk?”

They both laughed at the picture his words conjured.

Then he continued. “When I saw your application, I knew you were smart. But I expected you to be frivolous and… well, like any other debutante. I didn’t expect to be able to trust you. I didn’t expect you to be so conscientious or capable or—”

With a flash of irritation, Dominique protested, “I haven’t been pampered, if that’s what you mean.”

Stephen grinned. “Come now!”

Dominique’s face softened. “My father pampered me, if you want to use that word…” Then her features grew hard and she said in a flat tone, “But my mother never did. I may have everything in the material sense, but… we’re constantly at odds.”

Stephen gave her an understanding look. “You’ll get over that.”

Dominique looked skeptical. She sighed. “I don’t know…” She loved her mother, but she wondered if it was possible that she and Solange would ever truly
like
each other. Then she shrugged. It was better not to dwell on the subject. It always upset her.

She searched her mind for a new topic. “Tell me about your children,” she said.

Stephen smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why, they’re perfect, of course.”

“Just like their father,” Dominique joked.

Stephen’s smile faded. “I miss them,” he confessed. “I feel guilty that we spend so little time together.”

Stephen paused as the waiter cleared their appetizers and brought out their main course, roast pigeon. He opened a bottle of Bordeaux, which Stephen tasted and approved, then left the couple alone.

Dominique picked up her fork and cut into the succulent meat. “There’s something I have to ask you,” she said in a troubled voice.

Stephen’s expression turned grave, a reflection of her tone.

Dominique picked at her food halfheartedly. She was too preoccupied to appreciate it. “It’s about your… wife.” Her face turned crimson. What would he think of her for asking such a question on the first occasion they were alone socially? Should she have waited? But until when? It would be coy to pretend that this was just a friendly dinner. It was much more than that, and they both knew it.

Stephen nodded and put down his fork. He looked as though he were bracing himself. “You’re right. I need to explain.” He took a deep breath. “It’s the old cliché. You’ve heard it a thousand times. I stay with her because of the children. We essentially have no marriage.”

Dominique shook her head. “I haven’t heard it a thousand times. Because I’ve never… gone out with someone who was married.” She gave a short, self-mocking laugh. “I don’t approve of it.” She put down her fork as Stephen had done, and pushed her plate aside.

Stephen turned to her and took her hands in his. “I know. You don’t need to tell me. It’s one of the reasons I”—he stopped short. “These past weeks…” Again he faltered.

Dominique’s eyes were riveted to his. No one else in the room existed.
“These past weeks
…” He didn’t need to finish the thought. She knew! It was the same for her. Respect had turned into liking. Liking had sparked curiosity. Curiosity had led to attraction. And all of it had been fueled by the roller coaster of tension at work. There was a sense of something about to happen. And when she worked late with Stephen, there was a feeling of alliance and common purpose more binding than mere sexual attraction.

Stephen’s hands tightened around Dominique’s. He searched her eyes, as though trying to predict her reaction to what he had to say. Finally he spoke. “It’s much too soon for declarations. I’m afraid you’ll think I’m not serious.”

Dominique bit her lip. She was torn. A part of her longed for Stephen. Another part shrank from the involvement. If she were strong, she would tell him to take her home at once. She would forget about him, resign, and never see him again. There was still time to escape.

She withdrew her hands from his. “This is going too fast. I’m… I’m confused. You seem like such a good person. I’ve never respected anyone as much. But it’s difficult to reconcile with…” Dominique let her sentence fade.

Stephen gave her a sad smile. “It would be easier to blame everything on my wife, I know.”

Dominique looked down, ashamed. She wanted to blame his wife. To have an excuse she could live with.

Stephen put his index finger under her chin and lifted her face. “My wife is a victim of loneliness. I went away as soon as we were married and have been away ever since. Serena doesn’t care to leave England. I can’t blame her, really. Some of my posts have been beastly.” He sat back and took a sip of wine before continuing. “We’ve both done things that were wrong.” His voice was resigned. “The children… I think they need to know I’m somewhere about. She… Serena… is often… preoccupied. She has her interests. I’m afraid the children would feel quite isolated if I weren’t part of their lives. I go home for holidays. They come to my posts during the summers. I’m not sure Serena would be so generous if we were to divorce.”

“Can’t you get a post in England?” Dominique asked.

Stephen smiled bitterly. “I’ve had that. I’m afraid things didn’t work out. Serena insists that the children go away to school. How can I argue when I know I could be sent off and she’d have to deal with them on her own? So, with the children away, we end up alone together much of the time. And I’m afraid there’ve been too many ruptures to make that a happy circumstance.”

Dominique nodded. Her questions were answered, but there was little comfort in what she had learned. His wife wasn’t a lunatic, a drunk, or a witch. They simply didn’t love each other. Rumor was that Serena had strayed first—Dominique didn’t dare broach that subject. Couldn’t Stephen have divorced her then? Fought for the children? Perhaps even brought them to live with him? On the other hand, Dominique knew that courts seldom awarded custody of children to fathers. It seemed an impossible situation.

“Stephen?” Dominique had one more question. “Did you ever love Serena?”

Stephen thought for a moment. “When we married I was eighteen. I was going off to war and I wanted her more than anything in the world. But as to whether or not I loved her, I honestly don’t know.”

Dominique searched Stephen’s eyes. “Have you ever been in love?”

There was a long, tense silence. Stephen didn’t take his eyes off Dominique. His face was serious when he replied. “Two months ago, the answer would have been no.”