Beth and the Bachelor. Susan Mallery

into her wide and wary blue eyes, he realized she was much more than an obligation. Despite the fact that he’d dreaded the evening and had wanted to think up an excuse to cancel, now that he was with her, he found himself having fun.

      ‘‘Well, that confirmed everything,’’ she said, when the waiter had placed the napkin on her lap before retreating to give them a few minutes to discuss their drink order. ‘‘What do you mean?’’ Todd asked.

      ‘‘Just that if I hadn’t been completely sure I wasn’t your type, all those interested stares and raised eyebrows just confirmed the truth.’’

      Annoyance threaded through him. Not at her—every-thing about this situation was designed to make her feel uncomfortable—but at his supposed friends who had looked down at her.

      ‘‘Now it’s my turn to apologize,’’ he said. ‘‘I should have picked a different kind of restaurant.’’

      ‘‘Fast food?’’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘‘I assure you, I know which fork to use.’’

      ‘‘Not at all. Just a place where we could get a quiet booth in the back and talk.’’ He motioned to their seats in the center of the room. His usual table put them on display. Normally he enjoyed that, but not tonight.

      He found himself in the unusual position of actually liking Beth. He thought she was bright and funny. She had dreaded their date as much as he had, yet she was being a good sport about everything. He liked that he could hold a conversation with her, which he realized didn’t say much about the other women he dated. He didn’t really think of them as younger, although he was starting to realize that while he’d gotten older over the past fifteen or twenty years, the age of the women he’d dated hadn’t changed at all. Maybe he was going to have to do something about that.

      ‘‘What would you like to drink?’’ he asked Beth.

      She’d opened her menu and was staring at the selection. She leaned toward him. ‘‘There aren’t any prices.’’

      ‘‘I didn’t ask you what anything cost, I asked if you would like a drink.’’

      Her hair was short and layered, with wisps of bangs across her forehead. Perhaps as a child she’d had freckles— most redheads did—but hers had long since faded until her skin was pale and creamy.

      ‘‘But I’ve never ordered from a menu that didn’t have prices,’’ she persisted. ‘‘I have to know how much I’m spending.’’

      ‘‘Why?’’

      She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

      ‘‘Are madame and monsieur ready to order a cocktail?’’ the tuxedo-clad waiter asked as he silently reappeared by their table.

      ‘‘Beth?’’

      She stared at him. ‘‘I don’t know. Maybe a glass of wine?’’

      ‘‘I thought I’d order a bottle with dinner. Would you like something else before?’’

      She shrugged helplessly. ‘‘I guess.’’ She lowered her voice. ‘‘I suppose a margarita would be tacky, but that’s the only cocktail I drink.’’

      ‘‘How about a Cosmopolitan,’’ Todd offered. ‘‘I think you’ll like it.’’

      ‘‘Fine.’’

      He ordered that for Beth and a Tanqueray on the rocks for himself.

      They sat in silence for a few minutes, until the drinks were delivered. Beth stared at the reddish-pink liquid in the martini glass. ‘‘I was worried about not being sophisticated, but I guess my drink is sophisticated enough for the both of us.’’ She took a sip, then pressed her lips together. ‘‘Actually it’s very nice. Thank you for suggesting it.’’

      ‘‘You’re welcome.’’

      The waiter hovered. ‘‘Would madame and monsieur like to hear about the specials?’’

      What Todd wanted was a few minutes of conversation with Beth…alone. But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. ‘‘Sure,’’ he said.

      The well-trained server spoke about the appetizer of the day, then the soup. Todd watched as Beth visibly blanched at the mention of bone marrow flan as an accompaniment with the boeuf du jour.

      When the waiter had left them to discuss their choices, she swallowed hard. ‘‘Did he really say bone marrow flan?’’

      ‘‘It’s just a side dish with the roast beef.’’

      ‘‘Just a side dish. Great. Maybe I could get my entrée delivered on a plate that has never been contaminated by bone marrow anything.’’ She shuddered. ‘‘I was going to tease you by saying I just wanted a hamburger, but I wouldn’t trust this place with something like that. Who knows what they would put in it.’’

      He grinned. ‘‘The salmon seems safe enough.’’

      ‘‘Right. It’s probably decorated with little fish teeth.’’

      ‘‘I don’t think fish have teeth.’’

      ‘‘Sharks do.’’

      ‘‘Then don’t order the shark.’’

      Her gaze held his. Despite her complaints, he could see the humor lurking in her eyes. ‘‘I don’t get out much,’’ she said. ‘‘But you get out way too much.’’

      ‘‘Maybe.’’

      ‘‘There’s enough jewelry in this room to send my daughter’s entire grade to college for four years.’’

      He glanced around the room. He hadn’t noticed before, but Beth was right. Many of the women wore large, glittering stones set in earrings, bracelets and necklaces. In contrast Beth was simply dressed. Her only jewelry was a pair of pearl earrings.

      ‘‘It’s okay to state the obvious,’’ she told him. ‘‘I don’t fit in here.’’

      ‘‘Of course you belong here,’’ he said automatically, and knew it was a lie. Even though he didn’t want her to be, he knew she was right. ‘‘I should have planned something different,’’ he said, then realized he hadn’t planned this at all. He’d asked his secretary to make reservations somewhere nice. He hadn’t cared enough to participate in the planning more than that. But now he was sorry. He wanted Beth to be having a better time.

      ‘‘We could start a food fight,’’ he offered. ‘‘That would change the atmosphere.’’

      ‘‘I don’t let my kids do that at home, so I’m not going to let you do that here.’’ She pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. ‘‘Excuse me, Todd. I’ll be right back.’’

      He watched her cross the carpeted floor as she headed for the ladies’ room. If someone had told him just three hours ago that he would actually care about the outcome of his blind date with a middle-aged housewife, he would have laughed in his face. But now he found himself in the uncomfortable position of wanting to make Beth happy for the evening and not having a clue as to how to make that happen.

      * * *

      Beth told herself to keep breathing but the instruction wasn’t helping. She could feel herself panicking. She didn’t belong in this restaurant. ‘‘Or with that man,’’ she murmured, trying to ignore the fact that the lounge of the ladies’ room was not only better decorated than her house, it was also about the same size as her living room.

      The walls were papered in an expensive print and the furniture looked custom-made. She didn’t want to think about how nice the actual bathroom area might be. It was all too depressing.

      She faced the mirror and pretended to fix her makeup. Several women came and went as she wasted time and tried to gather the courage to face Todd