Page 11 of The Playboy and the Widow
She shrugged. “Twenty-five, maybe twenty-six.”
“How old are you?”
A hundred and ten some days. Fifteen on others. “Thirty last September.”
His grin was almost boyish. “I’m thirty-one.”
The conversation turned then, and they discussed local politics. Although they took opposing points of view, Diana noted that he respected her opinions and didn’t try to sway her to his way of thinking. Cliff was far more liberal than Diana. Her views tended to be conservative.
From their conversation, she discovered other tidbits of information about him. He skied, and had a condo at Alpental on Snoqualmie Pass. His sailboat was docked at the Des Moines Marina and he enjoyed sailing, but didn’t get out often enough. He was allergic to strawberries.
Diana hated to see the evening end. It had been years since she’d had such a fun date. Cliff was easy to talk to, and she was astonished when she happened to notice the time. They’d been sitting in the booth talking for nearly three hours.
“How about a movie?” he suggested on the way to the restaurant parking lot.
Regretfully Diana shook her head. “Sorry, Cliff, but it’s after ten. I should think about heading back.”
It looked for a moment as though he wanted to argue with her, but he changed his mind. Diana was sure that most of his dates didn’t need to rush home. More than likely they lingered over wine in front of a romantic fireplace, shared a few kisses and probably more. It was the “probably more” that got her heart pumping. It would be a foolish mistake to let this relationship advance beyond friendship. All right, she admitted it. She was attracted to the man. Good grief, what red-blooded female wouldn’t be? But they lived in different worlds. Cliff was part of the swinging singles scene and she was like a modern-day Betsy Ross, doing needlepoint in her rocking chair in front of the television.
“You’re looking thoughtful,” he said as they left the restaurant.
“I do?” she murmured.
Once again he opened the car door for her, and she scooted inside as gracefully as she could manage. Again her fingers moved to the clasp on her purse. For some reason she was nervous again. She liked Cliff more than any man she’d dated since Stan’s death, but it went without saying that she wasn’t the woman for him.
Cliff pulled out of the parking lot and was soon on the freeway heading south. They chatted easily, and Diana could see where Cliff would make a good attorney. He could be persuasive when he wanted to be. Darn persuasive.
“That was my exit,” she told him when he drove past it. She jerked her head over her shoulder as though it were possible for them to reverse their direction.
“I know.”
“Where are you taking me?” She was more amused than irritated.
“If you must know, I want to kiss you and I wasn’t exactly thrilled to do it in front of an audience.”
As Joan had predicted it would, Diana’s blood reached the simmering point. A kiss would quickly accelerate it to the boiling stage.
“Joan and Katie will be in bed by now.” He needn’t worry about them peeking through the living room drapes.
“I was thinking more of George and Shirley,” Cliff told her.
Diana laughed; he was probably right. She could picture Shirley waiting by her front window, drapes parted, staring at the street.
Cliff took the next exit to the small community in the south end of Seattle called Des Moines. “I want you to see something,” he explained.
“Your sailboat?”
“No,” he said softly. “The stars.”
Romantic, too! She could resist anything but romance. It wasn’t fair that in a few hours he could narrow in on her weaknesses and break down all her well-constructed defenses.
There were several dozen cars in the huge parking lot. A wonderful seafood restaurant was an attraction that brought many out on a lovely spring evening.
Cliff parked as far away from the restaurant as he could. He turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car. By the time he was around to her side, Diana’s heart was pounding so hard it threatened to break her ribs.
With his arm draped around her shoulders, Cliff led her down onto the wharf. The night was lovely. A soft breeze drifted off the water and the scent of seaweed and salt mingled with the crisp air. The sky was blanketed in black velvet, and the sparkling stars dotted the heavens like diamonds.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” she said, experiencing the wonder of standing beneath a canopy of such splendor.
