Page 27 of The Playboy and the Widow
For a full minute, Diana couldn’t look away. Shirley had painted Cliff in such grim tones—a man without conscience who freely used women. When he was finished, Shirley had said, he hurled them aside for fresh conquests. Looking at him now, Diana refused to believe it. Cliff was patient with the girls, and exquisitely gentle with her. Just being with him was more fun than she could remember having had in months. He appeared completely at ease with her and Joan and Katie. But, then, she reminded herself, women were said to be his forte. If Cliff were indeed the scoundrel her neighbor so ardently claimed him to be, then he’d done an excellent job bamboozling her.
“Mom, come and look,” Katie called, and Diana moved closer to her daughter.
Cliff smiled. He was enjoying this outing with Diana and her family. Getting the girls occupied fishing had helped. He had them using his outdated equipment, so nothing expensive could be ruined. Actually, he was rather proud of himself for being so organized. He’d set the fishing gear the girls could use on one side of the boat and his own on the other. That way, there would be no confusion.
Now, with the girls interested in catching “shy” fish, he could soak up the sun and take time to study Diana. She was nothing like the women he was accustomed to dating. The attraction he felt for her was as much a shock to him as it apparently had been to her.
She’d finished with Katie and sat next to him. They were so close that Cliff could feel the warmth radiating from her. He longed to put his arm around her and bring her closer to his side. Okay, he’d admit it! He wanted to kiss her. Her butterscotch kisses were quickly becoming habit forming. All he’d need to do was lean forward. Their torsos would touch first, and his mouth would quickly find hers. No matter where he looked—the sky, the green water, the billowing sails, anyplace—he couldn’t dispel every delicate, womanly nuance of Diana. Frustrated, he deliberately turned his thoughts to other matters.
“How’s it going, girls?” he called, seeking a diversion.
“Great,” Joan shouted back.
Cliff was impressed with her enthusiasm.
“All right, I guess,” Katie said, peering over the side. “Here, fishy, fishy, fishy.”
“That isn’t going to help,” Joan snapped, and as if to prove her point, she swung her fishing pole back and forth a couple of times, looking superior and confident.
Contented, Cliff grinned, and his gaze drifted back to Diana. She was a widow, no less. He’d always pictured widows as old ladies with lots of grandchildren, which was illogical, he realized. Diana was his own age. It wasn’t that he’d avoided dating women thirty and over, he simply hadn’t been attracted to any. But he was attracted to Diana. Oh yes, was he attracted! He wasn’t so naive not to realize his playboy reputation had put her off. He’d give his eyeteeth to know what she’d heard—it would do wonders for his ego. Smiling, he relaxed and loosened his grip on the helm. He didn’t know what George Holiday had told his wife, but apparently Shirley had repeated it in graphic detail. Luckily Diana had a decent head on her shoulders and was smart enough to recognize a bunch of exaggerations when she heard them.
Diana had never been on a sailboat before and she loved it, loved the feeling of relaxed simplicity, loved the wind as it whipped against her face and hair, loved the power of the sloop as it plowed through the water, slicing it as effectively as a hot butcher’s knife through butter. Earlier, Cliff had let her man the helm while he’d moved forward to raise the sails, and she had been on a natural high ever since.
“You’re looking thoughtful,” Cliff said to Diana a moment later.
Her returning smile was slow and lazy. She closed her eyes and let the wind whip through her hair, not caring what havoc the breeze wreaked. “I could get used to this,” she murmured, savoring the feel of the noonday sun on her upturned face.
“Yes,” Cliff admitted. He could get used to having her with him just as easily. When he stopped to analyze his feelings, he realized that she was the down-home type of woman he didn’t feel the need to impress. He could be himself, relax. He was getting too old and lazy for the mating rituals he’d been participating in the past few years.
“Cliff!” Joan screamed into the wind, her shrill voice filled with panic. “I’ve... got something.” The fishing pole was nearly bent in two. “It’s big.”
“Joan caught a whale,” Katie called out excitedly.
“Hold on.” Cliff jumped up and gave the helm to Diana.
“Here, you take it,” Joan cried. “It’s too big for me.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“I’m not, either!”
“Joan, just do what Cliff says,” Diana barked, as nervous as her daughter.
“But he hasn’t said anything yet.”
“How come Joan can catch a fish and I can’t?” Katie whined. “I wiggled my hips and everything.”
“Honey, now isn’t the time to discuss it.”
“It’s never the time when I want to ask you something.”
“Reel it in,” Cliff shouted. The urge to jerk the pole out of the eleven-year-old’s hands and do it himself was strong. The once confident Joan looked as if she would have willingly forgotten the whole thing.
Cliff watched as the fifth grader’s hand yanked against the line. “Don’t do that—you’ll lose him!”
“I don’t care. You do it—I didn’t really want to kill a fish, anyway.”
“Don’t be a quitter,” Cliff said, more gruffly than he’d intended. “You’re doing fine.”
