All or Nothing. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
didn’t even know where they kept the dish detergent. Man, twenty-seven was too old to have to suffer a roommate. Yet, if you lived in Manhattan there wasn’t a choice. Not for her on the amount of money she made, which on the whole wouldn’t have been too bad if she hadn’t been saving like crazy for her new business venture. Until last month there were three of them sharing the two-bedroom flat and they were going to have to find someone to replace Lisa pretty soon in order to afford the ridiculous rent.
Maybe Kelly had the right idea. Returning to the midwest had major pluses. Rent was relatively cheap, even if Dana chose to go to one of the larger cities. She’d have a car again, a dog and cat, maybe even a date once in a while. But the downside was huge—the humiliation of admitting that she simply hadn’t been able to cut it in the real world.
The true irony was that she hadn’t been the one so hot to leave the small farming community where she’d known every last kid in the small grade school, and at fourteen, shared her very first kiss with Bobby Miller, the captain of the football team. Her mother, her teachers, her high-school guidance counselor, even Maude Maubry, the town’s librarian, had urged Dana to set her sights on bigger things.
She checked to make sure she hadn’t gotten any lip gloss on her teeth, ran a brush through her hair one last time and then exited the tiny ancient bathroom that desperately needed some repairs to the rusty pipes and loose tiles.
Lynn backed down the short hallway. “Since you won’t be home tonight, can I borrow your—?”
“No.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
Dana edged past her, noting wryly that the ice cream was almost gone. “Have you ever returned anything you’ve borrowed from me?”
Lynn frowned. “I think so.”
“Think again.” Dana grabbed the small black purse she’d hung off her bedroom doorknob. Weird even to carry a purse. Normally she stuck keys, money and her cell phone in her jeans pocket, or in a fanny pack if she wore only Spandex running shorts.
“You coming home tonight?”
“Yes.” She noticed the disappointment in Lynn’s black-outlined eyes. “So do not touch my stuff.”
Dana left the apartment without another word, recalling a time when she would never have spoken to another human being like that. Good old Dana would have given anyone the shirt off her back. All they needed to do was ask. In fact, they didn’t have to say a word. She’d volunteer. Even if it were minus ten degrees outside and she had nothing else to wear.
She’d been the consummate good girl. Church-going. God-fearing. Perfect manners. Valedictorian of her class. Blessed with both looks and modest talent. The role model for every girl in town. Much to her chagrin, she’d been the one all the other parents compared their kids to. Her biggest fault had been her deep-seated foolish desire to please everyone. Her biggest secret was that she was basically shy.
With the possible exception of her father, no one had seemed to see that side of her. She’d just smiled a lot and allowed everyone their assumptions. Being on stage had been remarkably easy because she felt as if she was someone else entirely, and that’s where she’d fooled everyone. She’d almost fooled herself. She’d started to believe the hype that she was special and needed to spread her wings.
The truth was, she hadn’t changed much. Below the cool surface she was still that shy girl from Smallville, Indiana, population fifteen hundred and thirty-six, only after Marilyn Wilson had had triplets last year. If Dana were brave enough to dig deep, she’d probably find that she didn’t belong in a place like New York. But the longer she stayed the harder it was to go home. Instead, she mailed her letter every other week, phoning her parents on alternate weeks, keeping the calls short, never disabusing them of the idea that long distance still cost an arm and a leg.
At the corner she hailed a cab, not wanting to pit out by walking in the sticky humid weather. She hated that she’d put herself in this funk. It was stupid. By now everyone back home knew she hadn’t made it big, after all. Just because she hadn’t uttered the words didn’t mean reality hadn’t roosted. She wasn’t responsible for their disappointment. She had her own to deal with.
No, no, she’d put all that angst to rest. She wouldn’t even be thinking about any of it if it weren’t for Chase Culver. He’d stirred up the pot. Still, she knew better than to resurrect hope.
A cab stopped for her and she slid inside, giving the cabbie the restaurant’s address. She squared her shoulders. This was going to be a good test of her resolve. See if she’d really made the peace she thought she had. And yet who knew, maybe he just might have something worthwhile to offer.
CHASE ARRIVED a few minutes early and convinced the hostess to give him a nice quiet table in the corner of the restaurant, from where he had a clear view of the entrance. The place was simple, wooden chairs and tables set with laminated placemats listing New York trivia questions instead of tablecloths. On the walls were pictures of different parts of Manhattan, circa mid-nineteen hundreds. The only nod to formality was the crisp red linen napkins.
When the waitress came by he ordered a beer while he waited for Dana. He had no idea where she lived and with the crazy traffic out there, there was no telling when she’d make it. But the waitress had no sooner left the table than he saw Dana walk in. His breathing literally faltered.
With her hair down, bouncing around her shoulders, it looked much blonder than when it was pulled back in a ponytail. And the dress…breathtaking. Simple, black and sleeveless, hugging her every curve, it nearly made his heart stop altogether. The hem ended about five inches above her knees, and he didn’t know how it was possible, but her legs looked even better than when she wore running shorts.
Every man in the joint, from eighteen to eighty, turned to watch her walk past their tables. Not that he wasn’t a gentleman, though he wasn’t the type to get up and pull out a woman’s chair in a circumstance like this, but he was on his feet before he knew it and had her chair out and waiting before she got to him.
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He felt as if he was in eleventh grade again. Every guy in school dreamed about taking Rebecca Weaver to the homecoming dance. Including him. Naturally she went with the captain of the football team. But she’d saved a dance for Chase, whispered something sweet in his ear and kissed him on the lips. He thought he’d won the lottery. Holding on to that night had gotten him through many a dry spell, when all he had to warm him was rosy palm and her five sisters, but that night at the dance didn’t hold a candle to this very moment.
The creamy vanilla fragrance drifting up from her hair held him rooted for a second too long and as soon as he realized he was hovering, he released her chair and reclaimed his own.
Their eyes met, and she smiled shyly.
“You look stunning,” he said.
“Thank you,” she murmured, the pink returning to her cheeks. She actually seemed uncomfortable with the compliment. It wasn’t an act. She couldn’t be that good. Could she? “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He smiled. “No comparison.”
She made a face. “Stop it.”
“Okay.” He put up his hands, and noticed the waitress returning with his beer. “Sorry I didn’t wait, but I ordered a drink. I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. What would you like?”
The waitress arrived, set down his glass and while she poured the beer, smiled at Dana. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have the same,” she said, surprising him.
“I thought you were more the wine type,” he said when the waitress had left.
“Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”
“Me? A good ole boy from Texas. Bite your tongue.” He pushed the bottle and glass toward her, belatedly