Seducing His Heart (9 page)

“
Hey, it’s a perfect
arrangement. They get what they want, and I get what I
want.”

“
And what is it you
want?”

“
A little attractive
companionship. Someone to have dinner with. I hate to eat alone.
Sex. It works…for both of us.”

“
And me?”

“
You’d never fit into that
equation. I don’t want to hurt you. I like you, Bess. Like you too
much.”

The doorbell interrupted them. Crash was
there with the keys. Whit mooched a ten from Bess for a tip.

Before returning to his apartment, Whit
stopped in her doorway. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow
night?”

“
I thought we were only
friends.”

“
Can’t friends have
dinner?”

“
I suppose.”

“
I know you’re upset about
the cop. Let me buy you a nice dinner. You pick the restaurant.
Okay?”

“
Sure. Why
not.”

“
Pick you up at seven.”
With those words, he was gone.

She heard his door open and close. The ding
of the elevator, followed by a shrieking female voice, drew her
attention.

“
You bastard! You
son-of-a-bitch! You think you can get away with standing me
up?”

Banging drew Bess to her peephole. It was
Candy beating on Whit’s door. Bess leaned back against hers and
smiled. “One less model in the life of Whitfield Bass, I think,
Dumpling.”

Chapter Five

Bess wrapped the towel
around her chest after her bath.
My new
blue dress is perfect for tonight.
She
opened her closet door and chewed on a nail. She had the right
shoes, too.
Navy sling-backs. Not quite
fuck-me shoes, but close. Underwear? Black lace is perfect under
dark blue.
The shimmering, midnight blue
silk brought out the blue in her eyes and made her blonde hair
glow. It had a low-cut neckline and a slim fit, though it didn’t
hug her curves too tightly.

She looked at Dumpling,
who watched her take special care with her hair, pinning it up on
top of her head with some loose, frond-like curls trailing down her
neck. The dog gave her a stern look.
Am I
trying to seduce him? He already said I’m not his type. Yeah,
right. That kiss said it. Am I going down a bad road?
Bess stopped questioning herself when she didn’t
like the truth staring her in the face.

The bell rang at seven on the nose. She
swept the door open to find a handsome man, wearing a charcoal gray
suit, white shirt, and gold tie. His gray eyes widened when he saw
her.

“
Wow! You always dress
like this for dinner?”

“
It’s a new dress I bought
to cheer myself up. Is it too much?”

“
It’s amazing. You
look…gorgeous.”

She watched his gaze light
on her breasts and stay for a heartbeat too long. She
smiled.
I’ve got something those skinny
models don’t have. Breasts! The poor man is breast-deprived.
She chuckled.

“
What’s so funny?” His
gaze shot up to lock with hers.

She sensed color in her cheeks. “Nothing,
nothing.”

“
Let’s go. Maybe after two
glasses of wine, you’ll tell me what made you laugh.”

“
Don’t count on
it.”

“
A mysterious woman? A
challenge.” He took her hand and headed for the
elevator.

Crash flagged down a taxi,
and they rode through Central Park to Limoges. The Maître d’ showed
them to a table for two off by itself, tucked into a windowed
space, overlooking the park. The table, covered in a soft, pink
cloth, was lit by a solo candle.
Pretty
romantic for “friends.”

“
Jean Louis, the chef, is
always trying to worm recipes and secrets out of me. But I love his
cooking. He’s great.”

“
I’ve been here before.
The food is excellent.” Whit signaled for the waiter and ordered a
bottle of wine. When their glasses were full, he raised his for a
toast. “To a happier winter for Bess,” he said.

She smiled and sipped. “The wine is
excellent.” She picked up a piece of French bread and buttered it.
Before taking a bite, she looked at Whit. “Can we continue where we
left off when Crash interrupted us?”

“
Do I have to take my
clothes off?” His eyes sparkled.

“
If you want to,” she
said. “But you might get arrested.”

“
Okay. Shoot.”

“
You said you like me, too
much. You were going to tell me why you don’t want to get
married.”

“
Was I?” He cocked an
eyebrow. “I don’t remember that.”

“
Come on, Whit. You think
I need a friend? Well, I think you need one, too. So, open up. Tell
me.”

The waiter brought menus, and they both
ordered Coquilles Saint Jacques.

Whit sat back and took a big sip of his
wine. “Where to begin…”

“
At the beginning.” She
sat back, and her gaze connected with his. “I’m a good
listener.”

“
Here goes. Shortly after
I was born, my mother left the family. She deserted me, my dad, and
my three brothers.”

“
How awful.”

Whit raised his hand. “My oldest brother,
Jeff, said it was chaos. Dad was a journalist and traveled
extensively. We were foisted off on relatives and babysitters when
he had to be out of town…which was most of the time.”

“
Who raised
you?”

“
A variety of people, but
mostly Jeff. He was eleven at the time.”

Bess slid her hand over his and
squeezed.

“
Robbie, closest to me in
age, was five when our mom took off. He was devastated and blamed
me for her desertion. He was convinced that, if I hadn’t been born,
our mom would have stayed. He hated me from then on, beating me up
any chance he got.”

“
He’s over that now,
right?” She wrapped her fingers around his palm.

“
We haven’t spoken in…five
years…maybe more?”

“
Oh, God. Whit. That’s
terrible.”

His stare locked on the candle, avoiding
hers. “I tried everything to win Robbie over. I finally gave
up.”

“
His loss,” she
mumbled.

His lips twisted into a rueful grin.
“Thanks.”

The waiter arrived with their food. The dish
was perfect. But telling his tale seemed to rob Whit of his
appetite, as he only toyed with the seafood on his plate.

“
I’m so sorry. I had no
idea this story was so…so…sad.”

“
Not your fault. Am I
sorry things are the way they are with Robbie? You’ve no idea.” He
took a forkful of scallop.

“
I’d think this would make
you want to have a family more than most.”

“
After years of pressing
my nose against the glass, watching other families celebrate
holidays and birthdays, being happy, I finally realized that wasn’t
going to happen for me.”

There was a moment of silence as they
ate.

“
So, you gave
up?”

“
It’s reality. I turned my
energies elsewhere. I excelled at school. Got a full scholarship to
Kensington State.”

“
That’s impressive. But it
doesn’t mean you can’t have what you’ve missed.”

“
I’ll be damned if I’m
going to let a woman walk out on me…destroying my life and leaving
me with a house full of broken kids who can’t be fixed.” He spoke
with emotional heat.

She kept quiet and ate. The waiter returned
to ask about the meal. Whit nodded and continued to eat slowly.

“
Do you keep in touch with
your other brothers? Your dad?”

“
Jeff and I are still
close, though he lives in Baltimore now. Dad is in a senior
apartment. I visit him when I can.”

“
And you’re other
brother?”

“
Mal? He died in
Iraq.”

Emotion closed Bess’s
throat. She blinked to keep her tears at bay.
Don’t start crying. He won’t like it.
“You’ve had a helluva life,” she said, wiping her mouth with
her napkin.

“
On the other side, I’m a
major newscaster with Eagle Broadcasting. I’ve traveled all over
the world doing news stories. I had a great job reporting for The
New York Globe before I went into TV news.”

“
You’ve been very
successful.”

“
I rarely get turned down
for dates, no matter how famous or glamorous the lady. I’ve saved
money. I’m living the good life.”

“
You are.”

“
So, why ruin it with
marriage?”

“
Why take a chance on one
woman when you can keep loneliness out with many,
right?”

“
Absolutely! Wow, a woman
who understands.” He grinned. “I knew there was a special reason
why I liked you.”

That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever
heard. But like I should talk? Like I have a great life outside of
my work? Like my family is warm and supportive? Not. I haven’t had
his tragedy, but I’m no better off than he is. At least I’m looking
for something more. Haven’t given up yet.

“
What about your family?”
He took a sip of wine, his gaze steady, focused on her.

“
Nothing to speak of. I’m
the black sheep. My little sister stayed home, got a great job, and
takes care of my mom. At least, they live in the same
house.”

“
Don’t they acknowledge
your success?”

She shrugged. “A cable TV cooking show isn’t
as impressive as bank vice president. And now, my sister is engaged
to an important man in town.”

He nodded. “So, you’re in second place.”

“
It isn’t a race. I’m
happy for Janie. She has what she wants. Problem is, so do I, or
almost. But I’m the only one who thinks it’s worth
much.”

“
Does it matter what they
think? Aren’t you proud of your own accomplishments?”

“
I am. I guess it doesn’t
matter, but it hurts.”

He took her hand and kissed it.

Not exactly the action of
a friend.
She slipped it away.

“
Oops. Friends don’t do
that, do they?”

She shook her head.

“
You can’t control the
feelings or perceptions of others. Don’t waste time
trying.”

“
You’re right.”

“
I got that when I gave up
on Robbie.”

At the sound of a throat clearing, Bess
looked up. Jean Louis stood next to their table, dressed in all his
chef’s finery, including the proud, stiff, white hat.

“
Ah, Mademoiselle Cooper,
enchanté, toujours. How lovely you are here again.” He kissed her
hand and bowed.

“
Jean Louis, this is
Whitfield Bass. Whit, Jean Louis.”

The chef gave a curt nod to Whit and turned
his attention back to Bess. “I will gladly pick up your bill if you
will only share your recipe for the Mocha Magic cake with me,” he
said, his eyes glowing with mischief.

Bess wagged a finger at him. “Uh, uh, Jean.
You know I can’t do that.”

“
But it looks so
wonderful! I need the formula. I want to serve it here. I promise
to call it Bess Cooper’s Mocha Magic Cake.”

“
Nope. Sorry,” she said,
shaking her head.

“
Perhaps, Monsieur Bass,
you can reason with her?”

“
This lady has a mind of
her own, I’m afraid,” Whit replied.

Frowning, Jean Louis bowed again and was
gone. Whit chuckled. “You sure have him around your little finger.”
The busboy cleared their empty plates away.

“
He’s always asking for my
recipes.”

“
Ever date
him?”

“
Jean Louis? He’s probably
married with five kids.”

“
Not all desirable man are
married.” He opened the dessert menu.

“
Right. Some are only
interested in friendship,” she quipped, raising an
eyebrow.

“
Or friends with
benefits.”

“
A concept invented by men
like you.”

“
Men like me? What am I
like?”

“
Want the milk and never,
ever plan to buy the cow…uncommitted for life.”

“
Got me there. How about
dessert?”

The waiter appeared, pen in hand.

“
I’m full. But you go
ahead.”

“
How could I enjoy
something sweet without you joining me?” His stare burned her
skin.

“
Not tonight. I’ve eaten
enough.”

“
Watching your
weight?”

“
Trying not to overdo
it.”

“
You look fine to me.
Great, in fact.” His gaze traveled over her torso and back, making
her feel topless.

“
Only coffee, if you don’t
mind,” she said, hoping the dim lighting would cover her
blush.

“
Coffee for the lady, and
Espresso for me,” Whit said, closing the dessert menu.

Conversation over hot
drinks turned to lighter topics. Whit discussed his problems with
his producer, and Bess bemoaned the rigorous demands of hers. They
traveled home and parted in the hall after Whit embraced her and
kissed her on the cheek.
This feels stupid
after our hot time together. But hey, if it’s what he
wants.