Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
she said with a beleaguered sigh. “I was thinking more along the lines of Neil Diamond, Barry Manilow, Henry Mancini.”
“Barry Manilow? Please, not Barry Manilow.”
“I happen to like Barry Manilow,” she chided.
Now it was his turn to sigh. “I don’t know if there’s hope for this relationship.”
“All right, we’ll compromise on the music.”
“If you like Manilow, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Okay, Eric Clapton,” she suggested.
“Bob Dylan’s better. Agreed?”
“All right. May I continue?”
“Go ahead,” he urged, as if she’d been the one holding up the proceedings.
“We’re together on the Cove watching the sun set, music is playing softly in the background and we’re sipping glasses of wine.” She hesitated, certain he was about to launch into a discussion regarding the wine. “Do we need to argue about the wine, too?”
“No,” he assured her, “you choose.”
“All right. A nice fruity Gewürztraminer.”
“Hmm. Isn’t that a little sweet? Are you sure you wouldn’t be interested in something—”
“I thought we weren’t going to argue about the wine. You can drink what you want and I’ll drink what I want.”
“Fine with me.” He was certainly amicable all of a sudden.
“A waiter appears with a menu,” she went on.
“If the menu’s got tassels, I can’t afford to eat there.”
“No tassels.”
“Good.” Jack said immediately. “Now, did the waiter bring the bread basket yet? I’m getting hungry.”
“Don’t rush him, we’re still enjoying our wine.”
“While you’re drinking the wine, I want the warm bread and butter.”
“You’re making this difficult, Jack.”
“Okay, okay, continue, but I should tell you I worked through lunch today, so if you’re going to start listing the specials of the day, I’ll have to make a run to the candy machine.”
Olivia heard drawers opening and closing. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think? I’m looking for something to eat.” A grumbling sound followed his explanation. “The best I could come up with was a roll of Tums.”
“Poor baby. I guess that means you don’t want to hear about the seafood fettuccini, dripping with spicy shrimp, seared scallops and bits of lobster, stirred together in a creamy Alfredo sauce.”
“You are a cruel woman, Olivia Lockhart.”
Olivia laughed delightedly. “You just wait until I show you how cruel I can be.”
Jack sucked in his breath. “I love it when you talk dirty.”
Olivia growled.
“When, where and how long will it take me to get there?”
“Tonight at seven.”
He hesitated. “I…can’t.”
“Six?”
“That won’t work, either.”
“All right, eight, but that’s really kind of late for me.”
“What about tomorrow night?” Jack asked.
“Can’t. I’ve got a judicial committee meeting. Why can’t you go to dinner tonight?”
“I just can’t.”
He was certainly being cryptic about it. “Jack, have you got another date?” she asked, half laughing as though it was a joke. Neither of them had made any promises. He was free to date someone else, just as she was. But she hadn’t.
He paused before answering. “Not exactly,” he said.
“Not exactly,” she echoed. What the hell did that mean? “Are you doing something illegal?” she asked.
“No.”
“Just secretive,” she muttered under her breath.
Again the pause. “If you want to put it that way.”
Olivia hated secrets. “I see,” she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.
“Olivia, I’m sorry. I’d love to have dinner with you, but you’ll have to choose some other night.”
Olivia was a woman whose life was open to scrutiny; she disliked the way he chose to keep parts of his life hidden. If he had some dark secret, she’d rather know now.
“Come on, honey, it’s not that big a deal, is it?”
Honey. Now she was his honey.
“Another evening, all right?”
“No,” she said softly but with conviction. “It isn’t all right.”
“Let me make sure I’m getting this,” Jack said after a long pulsing silence. “You’re angry because I can’t go to dinner with you at the drop of a hat.”
“No, Jack, that’s not it at all.” She straightened in her chair. “Listen, I’m sorry. It seems I’ve been reading more into our relationship than warranted—”
“Olivia…”
“No, please, I understand.”
“You don’t.”
“I do,” she countered. He wanted everything on his terms, which meant that any relationship could only be a surface one. He had his secrets, and she was just supposed to overlook that.
“Olivia…”
“I’m sorry you can’t make it for dinner,” she said, interrupting him a second time. “We’ll do it another night.” Maybe ten years from now.
“Don’t hang up that phone!” Jack shouted.
She was too stunned to react.
“I know what you’re going to do. The next time I call and suggest we get together, you’ll have a reason you can’t. The time after that, it’ll be the same, until I’ve got the message. Dammit, Olivia, I won’t let that happen.”
“Then I’ll be up front with it. Jack, I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue seeing each other.”
“Why? Because I can’t go to dinner with you tonight?”
“No,” she said swiftly. “Because I was married to a man who chose to keep secrets from me. I’m not willing to get involved with anyone who can’t be open and honest.”
Silence.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” she pressed. “You’re a man with secrets.”
It took him forever to answer. “If it gives you any pleasure, then I’ll say it. You’re right—I have my secrets.”
He replaced the receiver, and Olivia listened to the buzz droning in her ear. Jack should’ve known her better than that. She derived no pleasure from being right.
The instant Grace pulled into the driveway, Buttercup bounded out the doggie door at the back of the house and raced to her side.
“Hello, girl,” Grace said as she stepped out of the car. She leaned down and scratched the dog’s ears, then the two of them walked to the mailbox to collect the day’s offerings.