could be so interesting? I must say, when I was in
school, I avoided the subject like the plague. Strictly the liberal
arts type. But your Jordan is very intriguing. And so amusing!"
"Amusing?" Alyssa repeated weakly. Almost simultaneously, there came a
burst of delighted laughter from the group near Jordan, and she swung
around nervously to stare at the far end of the porch.
"Yes, indeed. He's recently finished an overseas assignment,
apparently, and he has some wonderful stories to relate. Excuse me, I
must be getting back. Love these tidbits," she added, holding aloft the
canape she had just taken from Alyssa's tray.
What in the world did Jordan think he was doing? Alyssa stood, tray in
hand, and stared at his dark
head, bent attentively toward Lucy Chavez from the personnel
department. Several other people stood around, too, and they ail
laughed again as Jordan responded to something the attractive young
brunette said. Good grief! He was rapidly becoming the life of the
party!
For the next hour, Alyssa felt as if she were walking a tightrope. The
strain of waiting for imminent disaster was almost worse than the
catastrophe itself would be when it finally arrived, she told herself.
Trie suspense continued as she circulated among her guests,
replenishing drinks and joining in the light conversation that
characterized such events. Always she was conscious of Jordan's
presence, waiting
for the truth to come out and appall everyone. In her growing anxiety,
she found herself reaching for a third glass of wine before she
remembered to announce dinner.
"Please help yourselves," she instructed with false cheerfulness as the
happy group began to troop
toward the buffet table. Jordan was among those choosing plates and a
napkinful of silverware, she realized grimly. He was playing his new
role to the hilt!
The last to go through the buffet line, Alyssa found it extremely
difficult to work up any enthusiasm for the pasta and salmon dish or
the mushroom tart. She took a little salad on her plate and was
reluctantly adding a chunk of crusty French bread when Jordan's smooth,
dark drawl made her whirl around.
"Let me get you a glass of wine to go with that, Alyssa," he murmured,
holding his full plate in one
hand and deftly pouring out some chilled Sonoma County Chardonnay with
the other. She found
herself watching with mesmerized fascination. Such skilled, knowing
hands. The memories returned in full force. "Something wrong,
sweetheart?" Jordan inquired blandiy, handing her the glass. "You're
blushing."
"No, no, nothing. Jordan, please," she hissed, "what do you think
you're doing?"
"Having a good time." He paused as if considering his own words. "Make
that a very good time. I can't remember ever having attended a party
quite like this one."
"Like this one? That doesn't make any sense! This is a perfectly
normal, perfectly routine sort of buffet dinner party!"
"For you. Not for me." He smiled to himself, glancing around the room.
"All these people have respectable, well-paying careers with fringe
benefits and retirement plans and medical insurance. And
they think I'm one of them, thanks to you. In fact, thanks to you, they
think I'm a leader in my fteid."
"What in the world are you talking about? Jordan, I don't understand
you. How much longer are you going to go on like this?" She pleaded
with her eyes, desperate for some clue as to when he would say
the words that would ruin the evening and her career.
"I'm enjoying myself, honey. Don't you like to have your guests enjoy
themselves? Now why don't
you come on over to the couch and we'll have our dinner together." He
sniffed appreciatively. "Smells delicious. Your talents seem to be
quite endless."
There was nothing else to do but follow him over to the white couch and
join several other guests who had settled in the vicinity.
"Fantastic pasta dish, Alyssa," Ned Grummond commended as he forked up
an oversized portion.
"Don't let me forget to get the recipe from you before
school, I avoided the subject like the plague. Strictly the liberal
arts type. But your Jordan is very intriguing. And so amusing!"
"Amusing?" Alyssa repeated weakly. Almost simultaneously, there came a
burst of delighted laughter from the group near Jordan, and she swung
around nervously to stare at the far end of the porch.
"Yes, indeed. He's recently finished an overseas assignment,
apparently, and he has some wonderful stories to relate. Excuse me, I
must be getting back. Love these tidbits," she added, holding aloft the
canape she had just taken from Alyssa's tray.
What in the world did Jordan think he was doing? Alyssa stood, tray in
hand, and stared at his dark
head, bent attentively toward Lucy Chavez from the personnel
department. Several other people stood around, too, and they ail
laughed again as Jordan responded to something the attractive young
brunette said. Good grief! He was rapidly becoming the life of the
party!
For the next hour, Alyssa felt as if she were walking a tightrope. The
strain of waiting for imminent disaster was almost worse than the
catastrophe itself would be when it finally arrived, she told herself.
Trie suspense continued as she circulated among her guests,
replenishing drinks and joining in the light conversation that
characterized such events. Always she was conscious of Jordan's
presence, waiting
for the truth to come out and appall everyone. In her growing anxiety,
she found herself reaching for a third glass of wine before she
remembered to announce dinner.
"Please help yourselves," she instructed with false cheerfulness as the
happy group began to troop
toward the buffet table. Jordan was among those choosing plates and a
napkinful of silverware, she realized grimly. He was playing his new
role to the hilt!
The last to go through the buffet line, Alyssa found it extremely
difficult to work up any enthusiasm for the pasta and salmon dish or
the mushroom tart. She took a little salad on her plate and was
reluctantly adding a chunk of crusty French bread when Jordan's smooth,
dark drawl made her whirl around.
"Let me get you a glass of wine to go with that, Alyssa," he murmured,
holding his full plate in one
hand and deftly pouring out some chilled Sonoma County Chardonnay with
the other. She found
herself watching with mesmerized fascination. Such skilled, knowing
hands. The memories returned in full force. "Something wrong,
sweetheart?" Jordan inquired blandiy, handing her the glass. "You're
blushing."
"No, no, nothing. Jordan, please," she hissed, "what do you think
you're doing?"
"Having a good time." He paused as if considering his own words. "Make
that a very good time. I can't remember ever having attended a party
quite like this one."
"Like this one? That doesn't make any sense! This is a perfectly
normal, perfectly routine sort of buffet dinner party!"
"For you. Not for me." He smiled to himself, glancing around the room.
"All these people have respectable, well-paying careers with fringe
benefits and retirement plans and medical insurance. And
they think I'm one of them, thanks to you. In fact, thanks to you, they
think I'm a leader in my fteid."
"What in the world are you talking about? Jordan, I don't understand
you. How much longer are you going to go on like this?" She pleaded
with her eyes, desperate for some clue as to when he would say
the words that would ruin the evening and her career.
"I'm enjoying myself, honey. Don't you like to have your guests enjoy
themselves? Now why don't
you come on over to the couch and we'll have our dinner together." He
sniffed appreciatively. "Smells delicious. Your talents seem to be
quite endless."
There was nothing else to do but follow him over to the white couch and
join several other guests who had settled in the vicinity.
"Fantastic pasta dish, Alyssa," Ned Grummond commended as he forked up
an oversized portion.
"Don't let me forget to get the recipe from you before
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