Page 18 of The Playboy and the Widow
“Katie?” Cliff asked Diana.
She nodded.
Cliff levered himself off Diana and helped her into a sitting position. Self-conscious in front of her children, Diana ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it away from her face.
“We found a starfish,” Joan said, delivering it to her mother and sitting on the blanket.
Diana didn’t notice the proud find as much as the fact that her daughter’s shoes were missing and the bottoms of her jeans were sopping wet. Chastising Joan in front of Cliff would embarrass the eleven-year-old, and Diana resisted the urge.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Katie demanded.
“Who?” Diana blinked, thinking her daughter could be talking about Cliff.
“The starfish!” Both girls gave her a funny look.
“Yes, he’s perfectly wonderful. Now take him back to the water or he’ll die.”
“Ah, Mom...”
“You heard me.” She brooked no argument.
Joan picked up the echinoderm and rushed back to the beach. Katie lingered behind, her head cocked at an angle as she studied Cliff.
“Do you like to kiss my mother?” she asked curiously.
Cliff nodded. “Yes. Does that bother you?”
Katie paused to give some consideration to the question. “No, not really, as long as she likes it, too.”
“She likes it, and so do I.”
Katie’s pert nose wrinkled. “Does she taste good?”
“Real good.”
“Gary Hidenlighter offered me a baseball card if I’d let him kiss me. I told him no.” She wrapped her hands around her neck, then, graphically pretending to strangle herself. “Yuck.”
“It matters who you’re kissing, sweetheart,” Diana explained. A fetching pink highlighted her cheekbones at her daughter and Cliff talking about something so personal.
Having satisfied her curiosity, Katie ran toward the pathway that led to the beach and to her elder sister.
“I have the feeling that if Gary Hidenlighter had offered her Kentucky Fried Chicken, she would have gone for it.”
Cliff chuckled, his eyes warm. “What do I need to trade to gain your heart, Diana Collins?”
Ignoring the question, Diana picked up the blanket and took care to fold it with crisp corners. She held the quilt to her stomach as a protective barrier when she finished.
“I asked you something.”
“I have no intention of answering such a leading question.” In nervous agitation she flipped a stray strand of hair around her ear.
“Can I see you again tomorrow?” he asked. “Dinner, a show, anything you want.”
Diana’s heart constricted with dread. Now that she was faced with the decision of whether to see him again, the answer was all too clear.
“Listen,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around the blanket to ward off a chill, “we need to talk about this first.”
“I asked you to go to a movie with me.”
