Page 7 of The Playboy and the Widow
“More than ready.”
Cliff turned on the faucet while Diana squatted, watching the floor under the sink. “It looks worlds better than the last time I peeked.”
“No leaks?”
“Not a one.” She straightened and discovered they were separated by only a couple of inches. She blinked and eased back a couple of steps. Neither spoke. Sensual awareness was as thick as a London fog; Diana’s blood pounded through her veins. Her gaze rested on the V of his shirt and the smattering of curly, crisp hairs. Gradually she raised her gaze and noticed that his lower lip was slightly fuller than the upper. It had been so long since she’d been kissed by a man. Really kissed. The memory had the power to stir her senses, and her hands gripped the sink to keep herself from swaying toward him. She was behaving like Joan over a new boy in class. Her hormones were barely under control. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she managed finally, her voice weak.
“It isn’t necessary.”
Feeling awkward, Diana said, “Let me write you a check for the supplies.”
“They were only a few dollars.”
That was a relief! He named a figure that was so ridiculously low that she could hardly believe it. She thought to question him, but recognized intuitively that it wouldn’t do any good and quietly wrote out the check.
“I don’t suppose I could have a refill on the coffee?” Cliff surprised himself by saying. Standing there by the sink, he’d nearly kissed her. She’d wanted it. He’d been partially amused by her obvious desire, until he’d realized that he wanted it, too.
“A refill? Of course. I don’t mean to be such a poor hostess.” She moved to the glass pot and brought it over to Cliff, who had claimed a chair at the table. Diana topped his cup and then her own, returned the pot and took a seat opposite him.
“Do you like Chinese food?” he asked unexpectedly, again surprising himself. It wasn’t her beauty that attracted him so much as her spirit.
Diana nodded. Her stomach churned and she knew what was coming. She hoped he would ask her, and in the same heartbeat prayed he wouldn’t.
“Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
“I...”
“If you’re looking for a way to repay me, then make it simple and share an evening with me.”
“Joan’s got baseball practice.” Instead of looking for excuses, she should be thanking God he’d asked. “But Shirley could pick her up.”
Cliff grinned, his blue eyes almost boyish. “Good, then I’ll see you at six-thirty.”
Diana responded to the pure potency of his smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”
The minute Cliff was out the door, Diana phoned her neighbor.
“Shirley, it’s Diana,” she said, doing her best to curtail her excitement. “Where have you been hiding him?”
“Who? I just walked in the door. What are you talking about?”
“Cliff Howard!”
“You met Cliff Howard?”
“That’s just what I said. After all these months of indiscriminately tossing men at me, why didn’t you introduce us earlier?”
A lengthy, strained silence followed. “I’m going to shoot George.”
“Shoot George? What’s that got to do with anything?”
Shirley raised her voice in anger. “I told that man to keep Cliff Howard away from you. He’s trouble with a capitalT, and if you have a brain in your head you won’t have anything to do with him.”
Two
“Mom, do you want to borrow my skirt?” Joan held up a skimpy piece of denim that was her all-time favorite.
“No thanks, sweetheart.” Diana was standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom, wearing only her slip and bra.
