just silently groaned as he closed his eyes and held her closer.
She said quite clearly, “You’re old enough to control such conduct.”
How disgustingly mature of her.
She went on, “You’re old enough to have a—mature, I believe you labeled yourself, fourteen-year-old of your own.”
He pulled back to look at her bland face in some disgust.
She shrugged. “You said you were mature at fourteen. It wouldn’t be unheard of for you to have fathered a child at twenty-two.”
“I was just graduated from Illinois.”
“The state or the university?”
He leaned back a little to regard the mouthy neophyte. He set her straight. “The university.”
“What was your major?”
“Business.”
“That probably helped you considerably.” Then she took her hand from his shoulder and covered her mouth. “I’d forgotten you are a rent collector.”
“You have a very nasty way of talking to a man who is buying your supper.”
“Here, at this elegant place, it’s dinner.”
“Yeah. Behave or you split the check.”
“I can handle half of it. We’ll split it.”
There isn’t anything more irritating to a controlling man than a freewheeling woman. So he said, “Okay, we’ll split it.”
“Actually…” She studied him with some discarding. “I owe you for funding my gambling. I’ll pay the bill.”
“Not this time, baby. It was my idea to come here.”
She understood the “baby” was not an endearment. She inquired politely, “Are we quarreling?”
“You’re so stiff-necked that you’re just about impossible.”
With mature kindness she corrected him gently. “Not ‘just about’ but completely. Shall we go back to the table and finish up? I have an early morning tomorrow.”
He continued dancing. Well, he didn’t let her go and leave the dance floor. He asked, “How could you be on any schedule?”
Without hesitation, she retorted, “I have working hours, just like anyone else.”
He laughed. He closed his lips and smothered and bit at the laughter. He couldn’t stop and his eyes sparkled and the lights in them danced.
Such laughter is contagious. She grinned.
His arm pulled her closer, and they danced easily without saying anything else. When the set was finished, they went back to their table.
Their waiter inquired, “Dessert?”
And they studied the choices on the menu. It was a tearing choice. They decided on three. They’d share.
Their tolerant waiter whisked on the extra small plates, each with its own fresh dessert fork or spoon. And he served their choices. He lingered and glanced at them and anticipated their delight.
They were delighted. The meringue was sinful. The cookie/ice cream/nut one was outrageously marvelous, and the whipped cream/fruit was wicked.
Neither of the two actually licked their plates. They agreed that showed they were grown-ups. Not licking plates proved their upper echelon of maturity.
And they decided being mature was a real pain.
It took his credit card to cover the cost. He didn’t say anything and his tip was just a tad more than expected.
Their car was ready for them at the door. Obviously the waiter had contacted the car jockey. While Ed eased Marcia into her seat, the car jockey held the driver door at ready. And he took his tip slyly and it disappeared quickly into his pocket without his even peeking at it. He was very smooth.
Ed drove his replacement car with easy skill. He headed down toward the river. It was late and the traffic was still busy.
She asked, “You’ve been…mature…longer. Does it ever get easier?”
“Before I respond to your question, let me wipe the whipped cream from my flowing, gray beard.” He looked over at her with amused patience.
She lifted her eyebrows and told him, “I realize that will take a while. You’ve been a graybeard for so long. Will you kindly repeat my question at the beginning of your response? By then, I just may not remember what I asked of you.”
Making his voice wobbly
She said quite clearly, “You’re old enough to control such conduct.”
How disgustingly mature of her.
She went on, “You’re old enough to have a—mature, I believe you labeled yourself, fourteen-year-old of your own.”
He pulled back to look at her bland face in some disgust.
She shrugged. “You said you were mature at fourteen. It wouldn’t be unheard of for you to have fathered a child at twenty-two.”
“I was just graduated from Illinois.”
“The state or the university?”
He leaned back a little to regard the mouthy neophyte. He set her straight. “The university.”
“What was your major?”
“Business.”
“That probably helped you considerably.” Then she took her hand from his shoulder and covered her mouth. “I’d forgotten you are a rent collector.”
“You have a very nasty way of talking to a man who is buying your supper.”
“Here, at this elegant place, it’s dinner.”
“Yeah. Behave or you split the check.”
“I can handle half of it. We’ll split it.”
There isn’t anything more irritating to a controlling man than a freewheeling woman. So he said, “Okay, we’ll split it.”
“Actually…” She studied him with some discarding. “I owe you for funding my gambling. I’ll pay the bill.”
“Not this time, baby. It was my idea to come here.”
She understood the “baby” was not an endearment. She inquired politely, “Are we quarreling?”
“You’re so stiff-necked that you’re just about impossible.”
With mature kindness she corrected him gently. “Not ‘just about’ but completely. Shall we go back to the table and finish up? I have an early morning tomorrow.”
He continued dancing. Well, he didn’t let her go and leave the dance floor. He asked, “How could you be on any schedule?”
Without hesitation, she retorted, “I have working hours, just like anyone else.”
He laughed. He closed his lips and smothered and bit at the laughter. He couldn’t stop and his eyes sparkled and the lights in them danced.
Such laughter is contagious. She grinned.
His arm pulled her closer, and they danced easily without saying anything else. When the set was finished, they went back to their table.
Their waiter inquired, “Dessert?”
And they studied the choices on the menu. It was a tearing choice. They decided on three. They’d share.
Their tolerant waiter whisked on the extra small plates, each with its own fresh dessert fork or spoon. And he served their choices. He lingered and glanced at them and anticipated their delight.
They were delighted. The meringue was sinful. The cookie/ice cream/nut one was outrageously marvelous, and the whipped cream/fruit was wicked.
Neither of the two actually licked their plates. They agreed that showed they were grown-ups. Not licking plates proved their upper echelon of maturity.
And they decided being mature was a real pain.
It took his credit card to cover the cost. He didn’t say anything and his tip was just a tad more than expected.
Their car was ready for them at the door. Obviously the waiter had contacted the car jockey. While Ed eased Marcia into her seat, the car jockey held the driver door at ready. And he took his tip slyly and it disappeared quickly into his pocket without his even peeking at it. He was very smooth.
Ed drove his replacement car with easy skill. He headed down toward the river. It was late and the traffic was still busy.
She asked, “You’ve been…mature…longer. Does it ever get easier?”
“Before I respond to your question, let me wipe the whipped cream from my flowing, gray beard.” He looked over at her with amused patience.
She lifted her eyebrows and told him, “I realize that will take a while. You’ve been a graybeard for so long. Will you kindly repeat my question at the beginning of your response? By then, I just may not remember what I asked of you.”
Making his voice wobbly
Similar Books
