Page 23 of The Playboy and the Widow
Cliff glanced down on Diana’s daughter and released a long, frustrated sigh. He’d thought about this evening all day, and planned—or at least hoped—the drive-in movie would quickly put the girls to sleep so he could kiss Diana. Once again he’d discovered she’d dominated his thoughts most of the afternoon. His plans certainly hadn’t included dragging half the neighborhood to the drive-in with him.
“I thought of a way it could work,” Diana told him. “Come inside, and we’ll talk about it.”
Her compromise wasn’t half bad, Cliff mused an hour later as he parked his sports car beside the SUV full of kids at the drive-in. They’d agreed earlier to take Diana’s vehicle simply because his car wouldn’t hold everyone. Diana had suggested they drive both cars and park next to each other. That way the adults could maintain their privacy and still manage to keep an eye on the kids, who were feeling very mature to have their own car. Now that he thought about it, Diana’s idea had been just short of brilliant.
“How does everyone feel about popcorn?” Cliff asked once they’d situated the cars halfway between the screen and the snack bar.
“I already popped some,” Diana informed him, climbing out of the driver’s seat. Joan eagerly replaced her, draping her wrist over the steering wheel and looking as though she were Jeff Gordon ready for the Indy 500.
Diana sorted through something in the rear of the SUV and returned with her arms full. She handed each child his own bag of popcorn and a can of soda. “Don’t eat any until the movie starts,” she instructed, and was greeted by a series of harmonizing moans. “That goes for you, too,” she told Cliff, her eyes twinkling.
He grumbled for show and shared a conspiratorial wink with Joan, who, he could see, had already managed to sample her goodies. He held his car door open for Diana before walking around the front and joining her in the close confines of his Lamborghini.
Diana scooted down low enough in the seat to rest her head against the back of the thick leather cushion. The contrast between them had never been more striking. She wore Levi’s and a pink sweatshirt, while Cliff was fashionably dressed in slacks and a thick crewneck sweater. Diana sincerely doubted that any of his other dates had ever dressed so casually. Nor did she believe other women had six kids tagging along. Knowing Cliff’s game, Diana considered the neighborhood tribe poetic justice.
“This is turning into a great idea,” he said, wondering how much longer it would take before it got dark.
Before Diana could answer, a Road Runner cartoon appeared on the huge white screen. The kids in the car next to them cheered with excitement, and even from her position in Cliff’s sports car, she could hear them rip into their bags of popcorn.
“You’re a good sport,” Diana said, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “I mean about the kids and everything.”
“Hey, no problem.”
“How’d work go?” She felt obligated to make small talk, certain he wouldn’t possibly be interested in the cartoon.
“Good. How about your day?”
“Fine.” She clenched her hands together so hard her fingers ached. “Joan went to the orthodontist.” Now that made for brilliant conversation! She’d bore him to death before the end of the previews.
“So she’s going into braces?”
Diana nodded and reached for her bag of popcorn so she’d have something to do with her hands. “I told her she’s enough of a live wire as it is.”
Cliff chuckled. “I’m glad to hear she’s going straight.”
Now it was Diana’s turn to laugh. What had seemed the perfect solution an hour before now had the feel of a disaster in the making. Alone with Cliff, she’d seldom been more uncertain about anything. Joan and Katie had been her shield, protecting her from the wealth of emotion Cliff was capable of raising within her. She sat beside him, quivering inside, never having felt more vulnerable. He could make cornmeal mush of her life if he chose to, and like a fool, she’d all but issued the invitation for him to do so. Shirley’s warnings sounded in her ears like sonic booms, and for an instant, Diana had the sinking feeling that one of Custer’s men must have experienced the same sensation as he rode into battle, wondering what he was doing there. Diana wondered, too. Oh, man, did she wonder.
The credits for the Lucas film rolled onto the huge screen, but Diana’s thoughts weren’t on the highly rated movie. The open bag of popcorn rested on her lap, but she dared not eat any, sure the popcorn would stick halfway down her desert-dry throat.
“Diana?”
She jumped halfway out of her seat. “Yes?”
Cliff’s smile was lazy and gentle and understanding. “Relax, will you? I’m not going to leap on you.”
If there’d been a hole to crawl into, Diana would have gladly jumped inside. “I know that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
There didn’t seem to be enough words to explain. She was a mature, capable woman, but when she was around him, all her hard-earned independence evaporated into thin air like an ice chip on an Arizona sidewalk. He brought back feelings she preferred to keep buried, churning emotions that reminded her she was still a young, healthy woman. When she was with Cliff, she was a red-blooded woman, and her body felt obliged to remind her of the needs she didn’t want to remember. With Cliff so close beside her, the last thing on her mind was motherhood and apple pie. His proximity caused her to quiver from the inside out. She wanted him to kiss her, longed for his touch. And it scared her to death.
“Diana?”
Slowly she turned to look at him. Her face felt hot against the crisp evening air, and Cliff’s look brushed lightly over her features. He was kissing her with his eyes, and she was burning up with fever. Suddenly the interior of the car made her feel claustrophobic. She set the popcorn aside and reached for the door handle.
His hand stopped her. “You’re beautiful.”
He whispered the words with such intensity that Diana felt them melt in the air like cotton candy against her tongue. She wanted to shout at him not to say such things to her, that it wasn’t necessary. She didn’t need to hear them, didn’t want him to say them. But the protest died a speedy death as he reached for her shoulders. His gaze held her prisoner for what seemed an eternity as he slowly slid his hand from the curve of her shoulder upward, until he found her warm nape. He didn’t move, hardly breathed, anticipating her reaction. When he could wait no longer for an invitation, he wove his fingers into her hair and directed her mouth toward his.
