Love Lessons Page 8

  It wasn’t like him to be so uncertain at the beginning of a date. Shaking his head in impatience, he tapped on Catherine’s door.

  She opened it immediately, and he was relieved to see that, while she looked very nice, she had dressed no more formally than he had. She wore a forest-green sweater with a vee neckline and three-quarter-length cuffed sleeves, tan slacks and heeled brown leather boots that added another couple of inches to her five-foot-seven frame. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, drawing his gaze to her earlobes and making him wonder if she liked having them nibbled.

  Whoa, buddy. A little too early for that line of thought, he chided himself.

  “You look great,” he said.

  Her smile looked a little strained around the edges. “I thought maybe something had gone wrong.”

  “Why would you?”

  She shook her head. “I guess you were just running late again?”

  “Oh, that.” He shrugged apologetically. “Yeah, sorry. I got held up by a call from an old friend.”

  “Would you like to come in for a few minutes before we leave?”

  “Yeah. Actually, I bought a gift.”

  She closed the door behind him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Oh, it’s not for you.” He pulled a white rabbit-hair toy mouse from his pocket. “This is for Norman.”

  This time her smile was completely genuine. “He’ll like that.”

  Mike tossed the toy on the floor in front of the cat. Norman approached the new item cautiously, sniffed it, then picked it up by the tail and tossed it in the air. When it landed, he pounced on it with a meow of victory. He looked prepared to spend the next half hour happily battling the hapless mouse.

  “That was nice of you,” Catherine said warmly, apparently having forgotten his tardiness now. “On behalf of Norman, thank you.”

  “Norman is very welcome.” Downright proud of himself, Mike made a vow to be punctual next time he had plans with Catherine. Because he did intend for there to be a next time. Of course, he had made promises to himself about punctuality before, and he still hadn’t gotten much better at it. But for Catherine’s sake he would try harder.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “No, thanks. Are you ready to go?”

  “Of course. But you never told me where we’re going,” she reminded him, picking up her purse.

  He opened the door for her. “I thought we would just wing it. That’s always more fun than planning all the details, don’t you think?”

  She stepped out into the night, which was already dark at six-thirty now that fall had settled in to stay. The many security lights posted around the upscale complex spread a bright, if somewhat harsh glow over the parked cars and the closed-for-the-season swimming pool in the center of the compound. Lights burned in many of the apartment windows and in the large pool house, which also contained the workout room. Through the windows of that structure, they could see people making use of the treadmills and stair climbers and stationary bikes. Other residents moved through the parking lot toward their cars, headed out for Saturday-evening activities or toward their apartments.

  Catherine paused at the passenger’s door of Mike’s truck. “I tend to be a planner,” she confessed. “Calendars and lists and organizers. I guess it’s a side effect of my work, which has to be planned and timed very precisely.”

  He opened the door for her. “Tonight we’re throwing away the lists and the organizer.”

  She shot a look upward at him, and he thought that maybe there was just a hint of apprehension in her eyes. Giving her a trust-me smile, he closed the door of the pickup he had washed and vacuumed just for this outing and made a promise to himself that she wouldn’t miss her organizer at all tonight.

  Catherine was beginning to believe that Mike Clancy was the most impulsive man she had ever met. Maybe it was because she was used to being around scientists and academics, who pretty much breathed according to their rigid schedules, but she wasn’t accustomed to spending an entire evening just acting on whims.

  Mike didn’t even have a restaurant in mind when they left the apartment complex. Instead he asked, “What kind of food are you in the mood for tonight? Steak? Seafood? Italian?”

  Assuming he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested in what she would like, she replied, “Sushi sounds pretty good.”

  “Sushi?” He looked at her as if expecting her to admit that she was only joking. “Really?”

  “Well, yes. But if you don’t care for it—”

  “No, I can find you some sushi. No problem.”

  And he took her straight to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet that offered a few California rolls on one of the long buffet tables. Having expected him to select one of the excellent sushi restaurants in the area—or at least one of the Japanese restaurants—Catherine was a bit surprised, but she decided that this was his way of compromising. Obviously, sushi wasn’t one of his favorite dishes.

  The atmosphere was rather noisy, and the buffet tables were crowded with adults and children who had apparently taken the “all you can eat” invitation as a challenge. She placed some steamed rice, beef with vegetables and a couple of California rolls on her plate, then carried it to the booth where she and Mike had been seated. Mike joined her a short while later, his own plate piled so high that the egg roll balanced on top teetered precariously. She noticed that most of his food selections were fried, and that he was most definitely a carnivore.

  “Great place, isn’t it?” he asked happily. “Something for everyone.”

  “It looks good,” she replied, stabbing her fork into a thin slice of beef. Privately she thought that he either had a phenomenal metabolism or he didn’t eat this way very often. Otherwise he wouldn’t still be so slim.

  Once again she needn’t have worried about making conversation during dinner. Mike talked enough for both of them. While somehow making impressive inroads into his plate of food, he chatted nonstop about a dizzying array of topics. He pelted her with questions and seemed genuinely interested in her answers, but unlike Bill he was more interested in her past and her personal life than her work.

  He wanted to know her tastes in music and movies, but he seemed to have little interest in books or politics. He admitted to a passion for sports, in addition to being unhealthily addicted to television and video games. She responded that she occasionally watched a tennis match on TV and had always thought she might like to learn golf, but she hadn’t played a video game since trying a few arcade classics in college. Even then she had been spectacularly bad at them.

  He talked about his parents, a retired plumber and a former elementary school teacher. And his four sisters, Gretchen, Amy, Charlotte—also known as Charlie—and Laurie, who ranged in age from thirty-three to twenty-nine. Gretchen and Amy were married and had two children apiece—boys for Gretchen, girls for Amy—so Mike was an uncle, a role he apparently enjoyed greatly. Catherine talked about being an only child and how she had occasionally wished for siblings, especially a sister.

  She and Mike had very little in common, actually. But it surprised her how easy it was to talk with him.

  He plowed through a plate of assorted desserts while she ate a few small pastries. Afterward, they stood at a cash register where he insisted on paying for both of them. They walked through an entryway filled with vending machines holding gum, candy and small toys, and then through the busy parking lot to his truck.

  “What do you want to do now?” Mike asked as he started the engine. “It’s too early to call it a night.”

  “Oh, I…um…” She didn’t have a clue. “What would you like to do?”

  He flashed her a grin. “This could go on a while. Let’s just cruise and see what grabs us, okay?”

  Cruise and see what grabbed them? How odd. “Okay. Sure.”

  He tuned into a rock station on his radio, then talked above the pounding music as he drove in a seemingly aimless pattern around the city streets. He
talked about the weather, giving even that prosaic subject a personal twist.

  “Feels good tonight. Just a little cool. It’s been pretty warm for late October, hasn’t it? I used to hate it when it was too warm at Halloween. There’s nothing worse than sweating inside a heavy costume when you’re out trick-or-treating. Of course, it wasn’t much better when it was unseasonably cold, and my mom made me wear a coat over my costume—which I ditched as soon as I was out of her sight, of course.”

  “I never went trick-or-treating, but growing up mostly in Florida, I was accustomed to choosing lightweight costumes on the few occasions when I dressed up for parties.”

  Mike went suddenly silent, and when she glanced at him, she noticed that he wore what could only be described as a horrified expression. “You never went trick-or-treating?”

  “No. I didn’t have siblings to go with me. And my parents considered the practice frivolous and rather dangerous. Mother said it was ‘distasteful’ to go door-to-door, demanding treats from people, only to then overindulge in unhealthy sweets.”

  Mike seemed too dismayed to respond.

  Laughing a little, she touched his arm in a gesture that was almost reassuring. “Don’t start thinking I had a deprived or unhappy childhood. It isn’t true. I was completely indulged. We traveled a lot and spent a great deal of happy time together. My parents weren’t into Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and some other traditional childhood fantasies, but they made sure I had wonderful birthdays and Christmases and summer vacations.”

  “I’m glad you had a happy childhood. But still—no trick-or-treating.” He shook his head.

  She laughed again. “You make it sound as though I was regularly beaten. Trust me, Mike, I don’t feel in the least deprived.”

  He glanced her way with a smile. “I like hearing you laugh. Have you ever been to a haunted house?”

  “I, um—” The unexpectedly rattling compliment, followed by the totally unrelated question, made her blink. “A haunted house? You mean, a real haunted house? Because as a scientist, I don’t believe they really—”

  “Not a real haunted house,” he broke in quickly. “Though my sister Laurie could tell you a few hair-raising stories about a weekend she spent in a cottage in the Ozarks. But I was talking about one of the haunted houses that are put on every year by various charities.”

  “Oh. That. No, I’ve never been to one, though I’ve heard them advertised quite a bit on the car radio lately.”

  He promptly turned left at the next intersection. “This is something that can be remedied immediately.”

  “Oh, I—”

  “Trust me,” he said with another bright grin that didn’t do a thing to reassure her. “This will be fun.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mike drove to an old building on the outskirts of downtown that had been taken over by a local community theater group for the holiday. Overflow parking was provided in the lot of a vacant former business across the street, and Mike found an empty space fairly quickly, though the lot was almost full.

  A long line of customers stood in line at the ticket window. The crowd was noisy, mostly young, ethnically diverse. Catherine caught the distinct odor of alcohol from some of the rowdier groups. Some of the visitors had come in costume, but they didn’t unnerve her as much as the ones who seemed to dress disturbingly as a fashion statement.

  She was definitely out of her comfort zone here, she reflected as she moved just a bit closer to Mike.

  Smiling, he draped an arm casually around her shoulders. “It will be fun,” he repeated.

  With every nerve ending in her body tingling in response to his arm around her, she could only try to smile.

  They waited quite some time, and Catherine tried not to eavesdrop too blatantly on the conversations going on around them. It wasn’t easy, since most of them were carried on in fairly loud voices.

  A group of four teenage girls stood in front of them, all dressed to attract male attention, all seemingly giggling into cell phones that looked permanently attached to their ears rather than talking to each other. Or maybe they were talking to each other and their cell phone friends at the same time, Catherine mused, since they seemed to be babbling without stopping to breathe.

  A young couple behind her indulged in occasional demonstrations of passion that would have been more appropriate in the back seat of their car. Two men in their late twenties to early thirties were eyeing the teenage girls and talking too loudly about topics presumably chosen to make them sound young and “cool,” but in Catherine’s opinion only made them rather pathetic. But what did she know? Scientists weren’t exactly known for their “coolness” quotients.

  Speaking of cool…she glanced up at Mike again. She needed to remind herself again why she was here. The encouraging smile he aimed at her provided a partial explanation.

  Eventually, of course, they arrived at the head of the line. Catherine was less than thrilled to discover that the teenage girls and the groping couple would be included in their tour group. An exotic-looking young woman in a long, hooded black robe and very pale foundation paired with smoky, dark eye shadow and bloodred lipstick introduced herself as their guide, “Almyra.”

  Stifling a sigh, Catherine tried to work up some enthusiasm for what was to come. She found some encouragement in reminding herself that she loved community theater and believed very strongly in supporting local artists. Even if she found the next few minutes boring or silly, that should make it more worthwhile for her.

  She just hoped the teenagers around them wouldn’t try to outscream each other, leaving her with a pounding headache when this was over.

  “Are you okay, Catherine? You’re still a little pale.”

  She took another deep swallow of margarita and attempted a smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Mike had been doing a pretty fair job of stifling a grin ever since they had left the haunted house a half hour earlier. As if sensing that she could use a little liquid reinforcement, he had brought her straight to a popular music bar. The place was crowded and noisy and rather smoky, but at least no gruesome monsters lurked beneath the tables, ready to leap out at her and scare the stuffing out of her.

  The repressed smile tugged at the corners of Mike’s mouth. “So now you can say that you have finally visited a haunted house.”

  She nodded and took another drink.

  A quick laugh escaped him. “I have to admit you handled it well. Those silly girls with us were screaming and carrying on all the way through the place, while you didn’t make a peep. I thought you were just sort of bored by it all—until we got back outside and I saw that you were almost as white as the ghosts who howled at us inside.”

  “It was a little…unnerving in there,” she admitted, suppressing a shudder. It had been so dark, with creepy music and sound effects and dry-ice fog drifting around them. And even though she had known the assorted ghosts and goblins had all been volunteers in gory latex costumes, she had still almost jumped out of her boots every time one of them popped out of the darkness and shrieked at her.

  “Well, yeah. That was the point. Sometimes it’s kind of fun to be scared, you know? That’s why horror movies and roller coasters are so popular.”

  “I hate horror movies. And you would have to hold a gun to my temple to get me on a roller coaster.”

  “So you didn’t have any fun at the haunted house?”

  She was being ungracious, she realized abruptly. Mike had paid for her ticket, thought he was providing her with an experience she had missed in her youth, and all she had done was disparage the experience.

  “It was interesting,” she conceded in an attempt at diplomacy. “Something I had never done before.”

  She was tempted to add that she would have been perfectly content to live out the remainder of her life without ever experiencing that particular pleasure, but that would have been discourteous again.

  “It was pretty funny when that vampire dude swooped
down from the ceiling, wasn’t it? I thought that little blonde in our tour group was going to wet her pants.”

  Because she had come dangerously close to that reaction herself, Catherine could only smile weakly and say, “Yes. That was…amusing.”

  And to think that she had always taken such pride in her honesty.

  “So I guess this means you don’t want to go to the horror movie marathon with me Halloween night?”

  “Gee, I would—but I’m washing my cat that night.”

  Her drawled joke seemed to please him. Laughing, he said, “Could I talk you into doing that little chore some other time and going to a party with me, instead?”

  “A party?”

  He nodded. “My sister Laurie’s throwing a party and she pretty much expects me to be there. I’d really like it if you would go with me.”

  “Is it a costume party?”

  “Well, sure. It’s Halloween.”

  She bit her lower lip for a moment before asking, “What are you going to wear?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t really thought much about it yet. Last year I went as a handheld video game.”

  Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “How did you manage that?”

  “Oh, you know. Big fake control buttons surrounding a fake screen painted on a sweatshirt. I drew video game characters on the screen, and taped a couple of big fake batteries to my back. Clipped a little CD player loaded with video game sounds to my belt. Covered my head with one of those sheer black hoods you can see through from the inside but not so much from the outside. It turned out pretty good—though everyone thought it was real funny to keep poking my ‘buttons.’ I ended up with a few bruises on my ribs by the end of the evening.”

  “It sounds very creative. I’ve never been very clever at that sort of thing.”

  He shrugged. “Heck, you can wear a tiara and call yourself a princess. It isn’t a contest.”