By the time the doorman buzzed her on Tuesday evening to announce Dallie's arrival, Francesca was
a nervous wreck. She had tried on three of her most conservative outfits before she'd rebelliously settled on one of her wildest-a mint green satin bustier set off by an emerald velvet miniskirt. The colors deepened the green of her eyes and, in her imagination at least, made her look more dangerous. The fact that she was probably overdressed for an evening with Dallie didn't deter her. Even though she suspected they would end up in some seedy dive with plastic-covered menus, this was still her city and Dallie would have to be the one to fit in.
After fluffing her hair into casual disarray, she draped a pair of Tina Chow's crystal pendants around her neck. Although she had more faith in her own powers than in the mystical ones of Tina Chow's fashionable necklaces, she decided that she shouldn't overlook anything that would help her get through what could only be a difficult evening. She knew she didn't have to go to dinner with Dallie-she didn't even have to be here when he arrived-but she wanted to see him again. It was that simple.
She heard Consuelo opening the front door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She forced herself to wait in her room for a few minutes until she felt calmer, but only ended up making herself more nervous, so she walked out to the living room to greet him.
He was carrying a wrapped parcel and standing by the fireplace admiring the red dinosaur that hung above it. He turned at the sound of her approach and gazed at her. She noted his well-cut gray suit, dress shirt with French cuffs, and deep blue tie. She had never seen him in a suit, and unconsciously she found herself waiting for him to start pulling at the collar and unknotting his tie. He did neither.
His eyes took in the little velvet miniskirt, the green satin bustier, and he shook his head in admiration. 'Damn, Francie, you look better in hooker clothes than any woman I know.'
She wanted to laugh, but it seemed more prudent to fall back on sarcasm. 'If any of my old problems with personal vanity ever crop back up, remind me to spend five minutes in your company.'
He grinned, then walked over to her and brushed her lips with a light kiss that tasted vaguely of bubble gum. The skin on the side of her neck prickled with goose bumps. Looking squarely into her eyes, he said, 'You're just about the prettiest woman in the world, and you know it.'
She moved quickly away from him. He began looking around the living room, his gaze drifting from Teddy's orange vinyl beanbag chair to a Louis XVI mirror. 'I like this place. It's real comfortable.'
'Thank you,' she replied a little stiffly, still trying to take in the fact that they were face to face again and that he seemed a lot more at ease than she. What were they going to say to each other tonight? They had absolutely nothing to talk about that wasn't either controversial, embarrassing, or emotionally explosive.
'Is Teddy around?' He passed the wrapped parcel from his left hand to his right.
'He's in his room.' She saw no sense in explaining that Teddy had thrown a fit when she'd told him that Dallie was coming over.
'Do you think you could ask him to come out here for a minute?'
'I-I doubt that it'll be that easy.'
A shadow fell over his face. 'Then just show me which room is his.'
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded and led him down the hallway. Teddy was sitting at his desk idly pushing a G.I. Joe jeep back and forth.
'What do you want?' he asked, as he looked up and saw Dallie standing behind Francesca.
'I brought you a little something,' Dallie said. 'Sort of a late Christmas present.'
'I don't want it,' Teddy retorted sullenly. 'My mom buys me everything I need.' He pushed the jeep over the edge of the desk and let it crash to the carpet. Francesca shot him a warning look, but Teddy pretended not to notice.
'In that case, why don't you just give these to one of your friends?' Dallie walked over and laid the box on Teddy's bed.
Teddy eyed it suspiciously. 'What's in there?'
'It might be a pair of cowboy boots.'
Something flickered in Teddy's eyes. 'Cowboy boots? Did Skeet send them?'
Dallie shook his head.
'Skeet sent me some other stuff,' Teddy announced.
'What stuff?' Francesca asked.
Teddy shrugged his shoulders. 'Just a whoopee cushion and stuff.'
'That was nice of him,' she replied, wondering why Teddy hadn't mentioned it to her.
'Did the sweat shirt fit?' Dallie asked.
Teddy straightened up in his chair and stared at Dallie, his eyes alert behind his glasses. Francesca looked at them both curiously, wondering what they were talking about.
'It fit,' Teddy said, his voice so soft it was barely audible.
Dallie nodded, lightly touched Teddy's hair, then turned and left the room.
The cab ride was relatively quiet, with Francesca nestled into the velvet collar of a beaded jacket and Dallie glaring at the driver. Dallie had brushed off her question when she'd asked him about the incident with Teddy and, even though it went against her nature, she didn't press.
The cab pulled up in front of Lutece. She was surprised and then illogically disappointed. Although Lutece was probably the best restaurant in New York, she couldn't help but think less of Dallie for trying so obvious a ploy to impress her. Why didn't he just take her someplace where he'd be comfortable, instead of a restaurant so obviously foreign to his nature? He held the door for her as they walked inside and then took her jacket and passed it over to be checked in the vestiaire. Francesca envisioned an uncomfortable evening ahead, as she tried to interpret both the menu and the wine list without damaging his male ego.
Lutece's hostess saw Francesca and gave her a welcoming smile. 'Mademoiselle Day, it is always a pleasure to have you with us.' And then she turned to Dallie. 'Monsieur Beaudine, it's been almost two months. We've missed you. I've held your old table.'
Old table! Francesca stared at Dallie while he and ma-dame exchanged pleasantries. She'd done it again. Once more she'd let herself buy into the image Dallie had created for himself and forgotten that this was
a man who had spent the best part of the last fifteen years hanging out in the most exclusive country
clubs in America.
'The scallops are especially good tonight,' madame announced, as she led them down Lutece's narrow brick hallway to the antegarden.
'Just about everything's good here,' Dallie confided after they were settled in the wicker chairs. 'Except
I make sure to get an English translation of anything that looks suspicious before I eat it. Last time they almost stuck me with liver.'
Francesca laughed. 'You're a wonder, Dallie, you really are.'
'Now, why's that?'
'It's hard to imagine too many people who are just as comfortable at Lutece as they are in a Texas honky- tonk.'
He looked at her thoughtfully. 'It seems to me you're pretty comfortable both places.'
His comment knocked Francesca slightly off balance. She had grown so accustomed to musing over their differences that it was hard to adjust to the suggestion that they had any similarities. They chatted about the menu for a while, with Dallie making irreverent observations about any item of food that struck him as overly complex. All the time he talked, his eyes seemed to be drinking her up. She began to feel beautiful in a way she had never felt before-a visceral kind of beauty that came from deep within. The softness of her mood alarmed her, and she was glad of the distraction when the waiter appeared to take their order.
After the waiter left, Dallie swept his eyes over her again, his smile slow and intimate. 'I had a good time with you that night.'
Oh, no, you don't, she thought. He wasn't going to win her over that easily. She had played games with the best of them, and this was one fish who would have to wiggle on the hook for a while. She widened her eyes innocently, opening her mouth to ask him what night he was talking about, only to find herself smiling at him instead. 'I had a good time, too.'
