word about money or Sammy Oberlin or anything like that. I’m afraid she got it into her head that I’m your new girlfriend and I didn’t disabuse her of the notion. I thought it would be simpler for her to believe that. And it’s a little bit true. I mean, we are going out on a date.”
Russ relaxed. “So what did you talk about?”
“About the latest hairstyles and fashion and what it was like living in New York and the fact that she’d like grandbabies.”
Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re kidding.”
“Has she not mentioned that to you?” Sydney asked innocently.
“Actually, no, she hasn’t. I had no idea she’d ever be interested in being a grandmother. I thought the idea would horrify her if it ever happened.”
“Oh, I expect it’ll happen,” Sydney said. “Some lucky girl will snag you and fill this house with little boys and girls. You can take them camping and teach them how to fish and canoe and survive on nothing but acorns and a book of matches.”
Russ laughed.
Sydney wanted to cry.
The picture she’d painted was more than slightly appealing. She could easily see Russ with a little boy, one with his same gold-streaked hair, their heads bent over a fishing line as Russ taught his son how to bait a hook. What really hurt was imagining a little girl with her own features-something she knew could never be.
She felt an unexpected ache in her chest, which surprised her. She’d never felt a particular affinity for children and figured she simply wasn’t born with a lot of maternal instincts. But for the first time in her life she knew she wanted to have children someday. She wanted to share that bond of parenthood with a good man, someone who would provide the nurturing and companionship that Russ himself had lacked as a child.
“Oh, I have some cheese and crackers to tide us over,” Russ said suddenly. He set his wine down and jumped up, as if someone had lit his fuse. She wondered if the talk of children had made him feel any disquieting thoughts. He seemed the type of guy who would like kids, but maybe he wasn’t.
She heard more rustling in the kitchen, but this time when he came back to the den he had a cutting board loaded up with some squares of cheddar cheese, a pile of wheat crackers and an apple sliced into thin wedges.
Sydney’s stomach grumbled. The improvised lunch they’d shared on the trail-a couple of hastily chewed granola bars and some nuts and raisins-had been many hours ago, and she’d expended a lot of calories since then. She tried not to fall on the snack like a ravenous wolf.
“Be sure and save room for dinner,” Rush cautioned her.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll find room for a good steak. Three days of camping food and I’m ready to go out and rustle up my own cow and eat it whole.”
Sydney was feeling marginally human again. Her foot had stopped throbbing, too. But if they had dinner reservations at eight-thirty, she should get moving; she had some work ahead of her to get presentable.
Russ showed her to the master suite. The bath was five times the size of the tiny bathroom at the cabin. It was all done in navy blue tile with chrome accents, and the shower was definitely big enough for two. She thought briefly of inviting Russ to join her, but if she did they’d never make it to dinner. Maybe later.
Later? She was running out of later. She could spend many more days exploring Russ Klein, his body, his mind, his soul. A few hours weren’t going to do it.
“You don’t by any chance have a blow-dryer, do you?” she asked, looking at her bird’s nest of a hairdo in the mirror. If she didn’t make a concerted effort to straighten it, it went into a wild array of out-of-control curls.
“Actually, I do.” He opened several drawers in the vanity until he came up with it.
“Hmm, what girlfriend left that behind?”
“How do you know it’s not mine?”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on. You’re just not the blow-dryed type.”
“Actually, her name was Deirdre. But she left it at my old place-she never stayed here. She was long gone by the time I moved in here.”
Sydney felt a surge of jealousy that some other woman had enjoyed sleepovers with Russ. He’d been right, he was painfully honest. Most men wouldn’t willingly reveal information about an old girlfriend.
But that unwelcome and inappropriate feeling quickly dissipated. That woman wasn’t here now. She was. And she wasn’t going to let her few remaining hours with Russ be wasted with petty jealousy.
Once she had the bathroom to herself, she washed the trail grime from her body, scrubbing until she was pink. She shampooed her hair again, even though it had been washed just that morning.
Thank God for Deirdre, Syndey thought with a smile as she dried her hair until it was smooth and almost straight.
She primped as much as she could with her travel makeup case from her purse. She slipped into the new dress and put on some understated gold jewelry. New stockings and her comfortable brown pumps completed her outfit. With one light spritz of perfume, she exited the bedroom suite and went looking for her man. Hers for the evening, anyway.
Sydney found Russ in the den, fiddling with the fire. And for a moment she just stopped and stared. He wore a charcoal gray wool suit that fit him perfectly, accentuating his height and his wide shoulders. The suit looked as nice as any she’d ever seen, as did the silk tie in muted blues and grays. His hair, still slightly damp from his shower, had been neatly combed. When she came closer, she saw that he’d shaved. A tiny nick along his jaw gave him away.
He straightened and held out his arms. “What do you think? Do I pass muster?”
“Oh, you pass, all right.”
She wondered who picked out his clothes. The mysterious Deirdre?
She clenched her jaw. She was walking away and there would be other Deirdres. She didn’t need to know, didn’t want to think about them or about the man she’d always think of as the one who got away.
“You clean up good, too,” Russ said, “but I already knew that.” He held up his hand. “No, wait, let me state that more emphatically. You look fantastic and I will be sure to tell Rose she advised you well.”
“Thank you.” Sydney appreciated the compliment. She did feel pretty tonight and the fire in his eyes told her all she needed to know about how well her efforts had paid off.
“Ready to go?” he said.
“Absolutely. I’m not going to last long in these heels, so the sooner we can get to a table, the better.”
The Lake Linhart Country Club wasn’t actually in Linhart. It was across the lake from Russ’s house. He showed Sydney the lights visible from his back door, but it was about a fifteen-minute drive to get there.
The club reeked of old money. Russ told her that a group of oil barons of another era had built this place as a private playground, but during the oil bust of the 1980s it had been sold and converted to a country club with membership open to anyone willing to pay the modest dues. It didn’t feature the latest, most chic decor, but everywhere Sydney looked she saw quality, from the parquet floor to the wall sconces to the maitre d’s tuxedo.
“Mr. Klein, how nice to see you again so soon,” the maitre d’ said. “Your table is ready.”
“You must be a good customer.”
“Actually, I do a lot of work for the club, organizing wilderness adventures for the members. I even teach kayaking and windsurfing. So they know me.”
The dining room was small but elegantly appointed. They were led to a table right by a wall of windows, where they could look out onto the lake. The sky shimmered with stars. Sydney had never seen so many.
The evening was as perfect as any dinner date could be. The filet Sydney ordered was grilled to perfection; the red wine was hearty and seeped into Sydney’s exhausted bones, relaxing her. Even the background music set just the right tone of intimacy.
They talked of anything and everything, carefully avoiding any mention of the future they wouldn’t be sharing. They lingered over coffee late into the evening as their conversation dwindled to comfortable silence and they stared into each other’s eyes.
Sydney tried to find hidden depths in Russ’s eyes, answers to questions she hadn’t yet asked. He reached across the table and took her hand, lightly kissing the knuckles. “Let’s go home.”
Oh, yeah. She couldn’t stand up fast enough.
