Page 42 of The Playboy and the Widow
“Well?”
“Don’t rush me. I’m trying to think of a diplomatic way of saying this.”
“I’ve been a grouch. I know, and I apologize.” Diana could do nothing less. She’d been snapping at the girls all week. School was out, and it took time to adjust. At least, that was what she told herself.
“That’s not it.”
“Is it Owen? You needn’t worry. I won’t be seeing him again.”
In a spontaneous outburst of glee, Joan tossed her hands above her head. “There is a God!”
“Joan, honestly!”
“So you’re not going to date Owen anymore. What about...” She paused abruptly. “You know... the one whose name I’ve been forbidden to mention.”
“Cliff.”
Joan pointed at her mother’s chest. “He’s the one.”
“What about him?” Diana asked, ignoring her daughter’s attempt at humor.
The amusement drained from the eleven-year-old’s dark eyes. “You still miss him, don’t you?”
Diana lowered her gaze and shrugged. She preferred not to think about Cliff. Ever since the night she’d seen him with that bimbo clinging to him like a bloodsucker, Diana had done her best to avoid anything vaguely connected with Cliff Howard. It was little wonder they hadn’t been able to get along. Obviously, Cliff’s preference in women swayed toward the exotic. Their breakup had been inevitable. He might have been satisfied with apple pandowdy for a time, but his interest couldn’t have lasted. Not when he could sample cheesecake anytime he wished. Diana had been intelligent enough to recognize that from the first, but she’d been so flattered—all right, attracted to Cliff—that she’d chosen to ignore good old-fashioned common sense. Joan was right, though. She did miss him. But more important, she’d gotten out of the relationship with her heart intact. No one had been hurt; she’d been lucky.
“Anyway, Katie and I have been thinking,” Joan continued.
“Now that’s dangerous.” Diana took a sip of her coffee and nearly choked as the hot brew slid down the back of her throat. Joan had made it strong enough to cause a nuclear meltdown.
“Mom, Katie and I want you to know something.”
“Yes?”
“Whatever Cliff did,weforgive him. We think that you should be big enough to do the same.”
Marianne batted her thick, mascara-coated lashes in Cliff’s direction, issuing an invitation that was all too obvious. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. Harder than necessary, grinding his mouth over hers, angry with her for being so transparent and even angrier with himself for not wanting her.
The woman in his arms moaned, and Cliff obliged by kissing her again. He didn’t need to be an Einstein to realize he was seeking something. Every time he kissed Marianne, it was a futile effort to taste Diana.
The blond wound her arms around his neck and seductively rubbed her breasts over his torso. Cliff couldn’t force any desire for her, and the realization only served to infuriate him.
His hands gripped Marianne’s shoulders as he extracted himself from her grasp.
She looked up at him, dazed and confused. “Cliff?”
“I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” He offered the lame excuse, stood and reached for his jacket. “I’ll give you a call later.” He hurried out the door, hardly able to escape fast enough. Once inside his car, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and clenched his jaw. What was happening to him? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Diana stood at the sliding glass door and checked the sleeping foursome on the patio. In an effort to make up for her cranky mood, and in a moment of weakness, she’d agreed to let the girls each invite a friend over for a slumber party. Now all four were sacked out in lawn chairs, with enough pillows, blankets, radios and stuffed animals to supply a small army. They’d talked, laughed, carted out half the contents of the kitchen and had finally worn themselves out. Peace and goodwill toward men reigned for the moment.
Diana had just poured herself a cup of decaffeinated coffee, when the doorbell chimed. Surprised, she checked her watch and noticed it was after ten. She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone this late.
Setting aside her coffee, she moved into the entryway and pressed her eye to the peephole in the front door. Her gaze met the solid wall of a man’s chest—one she’d recognize anywhere. Cliff Howard’s.
There wasn’t time to react, or time to think. Her heart hammered wildly as she unbolted the lock and gradually opened the door.
“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop in. I hope you don’t mind.”
He was dressed in a dinner jacket, his tie was loosened and the top two buttons of his shirt were unfastened. Cliff didn’t need anyone to tell him he looked bad. That was what he felt like, too. So the dragon lady wasn’t going to come to him. Fine, he’d go to her, and they’d get this matter settled once and for all. Hard as it was to admit, he missed her. He even missed Joan and Katie. It hadn’t been easy swallowing his pride this way, and he sincerely hoped Diana recognized that and responded appropriately.
