by Janet Dailey
"We did discuss role-reversal," Rome said when Lexie bent down to unlock the passenger side of the car, "but I think it would be less embarrassing for both of us if I opened my own doors."
"All right," Lexie was willing to concede that, but she added her own gibe, "I'm sure you can imagine how silly a woman feels sometimes when she has to wait in the car while the man comes around to open her door. It can be very awkward."
"Touché," He smiled, and opened the passenger door while Lexie walked around the car to the driver's side.
What was awkward was driving with Rome Lockwood looking on. Lexie knew she was a competent driver—a very skilled one in fact—but she was self-conscious with him sitting beside her.
"I hope you don't have any prejudices against woman drivers," she commented, waiting for an opening in the traffic before turning the car into the street.
"None, only incompetent drivers," he answered.
Luckily Lexie didn't embarrass herself by grinding gears and the little car was on its best behavior, not stalling at stop lights or hiccuping across intersections. The traffic was fairly heavy and Lexie concentrated on her driving, thereby eliminating conversation. Still she was conscious of the dark gaze that strayed to her so often during the drive to the restaurant.
"I hope you approve of my choice," Lexie said when they arrived, not really caring whether he did or not.
"It's one of my haunts," said Rome as an attendant took the car to park it for Lexie. "Or did you check and find that out?"
"No. Frankly, it didn't occur to me." She returned his sideways glance with a sparkling look of battle.
The interior of the restaurant was almost intimidatingly elegant. A stiffly formal maître d'hotel stepped forward to greet them, smiling with pleasure, then his expression changing into a troubled frown.
"Mr. Lockwood, I'm terribly sorry, but I don't have you on my reservation list. I'm sure if you can give me a few minutes I'll have a table for you," the man promised, almost profuse with his anxiety to serve.
"The reservation is in my name," Lexie inserted before Rome could respond, and the man drew back in surprise. "Templeton."
The maître d'hotel cast a questioning glance at Rome who was restraining a smile with difficulty. "That's correct, Charles. Miss Templeton has the reservation in her name."
As the man turned, Lexie saw him steal a glance at his reservation book lying open on a mock podium, to ensure that it was the truth. The look he gave her when he escorted them to a table plainly said that her action was a definite breach of etiquette. His attitude made Lexie's temper simmer.
A waiter was at their table almost the instant they sat down, filling the crystal goblets with ice water inquiring, "Would you care for a cocktail before ordering?"
Rashly Lexie asked, "Would you like one, Rome?"
"No, thank you," he refused, his gaze mocking her attempt to take charge in a man's world.
It only made her all the more stubborn. "We don't care for a cocktail," she informed the waiter. He darted a glance at a passive Rome Lockwood as he handed each of them a menu.
"The wine list, perhaps," The waiter suggested, offering it to Rome.
"The lady will choose," Rome replied, gesturing to Lexie, who gritted her teeth at his mockingly patronizing action.
She accepted the wine list from the stiffly disapproving waiter. Her knowledge of Rome Lockwood was sketchy, picked up in bits and pieces from what she had heard and seen. Too late Lexie remembered that he was considered something of a connoisseur of wines. She knew next to nothing about them.
"Is there a particular wine you would prefer?" Lexie tactfully attempted to conceal her ignorance.
It was as if those knowing dark eyes were aware that she was squirming inwardly, because Rome gave a mild shake of his head. "No. Whatever you choose I'm sure will be excellent."
Lexie wanted to scream in frustration. She guessed exactly what he was doing—letting her discover what it felt like when a woman deferred the choice to the man, especially if he was totally unfamiliar with her taste.
The wine list looked exceedingly formidable, with foreign brands listed that Lexie had never heard of. She only hoped that a restaurant such as this would not have bad wine on their list.
"A white wine," she murmured, narrowing the choice. "Something domestic, I think," Something she could read was what she meant, but she defended it by lamely joking, "To improve our foreign trade deficit." She gave her choice of a California Chablis to the waiter in what she hoped was a confident tone.
"A liter, miss?" he inquired. Neither the waiter nor Rome betrayed by expression whether her choice was a respectable one. Once it was given Lexie knew she couldn't retract it.
"Yes, please," she nodded.
The dinner menu, at least, was no obstacle to be overcome, but the prices made Lexie blanch. If she hadn't taken the money from her savings account, she would have been in a truly embarrassing position.
Since the choice of wine had been hers the waiter poured the sampling taste for her when he served it. Ill at ease, Lexie went through the motions of approving it. As far as she was concerned it tasted very good, but she was hardly an expert. The uncertainty must have been in her eyes when she watched Rome sip from his glass.
"Very good," he assured her.
But his approval only made her cross. "You know very well that I know next to nothing about good wine," she retorted.
"A good wine is one whose taste you like," he explained indulgently. "Do you like the taste of this one?"
"Yes." Her answer was curt and defensive.
"Then it's a good wine. There's no need to be defensive about your choice," Rome replied.
But she was, and it irritated her. Lexie had pictured herself making brilliant and witty conversation over dinner, but everything she said sounded stilted and forced. The meal was delicious, but for all the pleasure it gave Lexie, it could just as easily have been hash. By the time coffee was served she felt miserable while Rome seemed to be enjoying himself at her expense.
When the waiter brought the check on its miniature tray, he naturally started to set it in front of Rome, but was forestalled. "I'm the lady's guest tonight," Rome explained.
Lexie didn't know who was more embarrassed, she or the waiter, as he set the tray before her. She seethed at the wickedly laughing glint in the dark eyes watching her from across the table.
The waiter did try to ease the situation by joking with Rome. "You made a bet and the lady lost, huh?"
"You could say that," Rome agreed.
From her evening bag Lexie took out the amount of the check plus an adequate tip and placed it on the tray before returning it to the waiter. She flashed an angry look at Rome's bemused expression as the waiter departed from their table.
"Do you see how irritating it is?" she demanded.
"What?" he questioned with deliberate obtuseness.
"This stupid attitude you men have," Lexie muttered. "First the maître d'hotel with his shock that I'd made the reservations, then the waiter assuming that you would make the decisions and pay for the meal, then trying to find what he believed would be a plausible explanation when you didn't."
"It's been the custom for it to be a man's place to handle these matters," he reasoned.
"It's about time there were some changes, then," she retorted.
"Are you embarrassed at having to assert yourself?"
"No, I'm irritated," she retorted.
"The burning of a few bras can't change the habits of a lifetime, although I've noticed you haven't done away with yours." His gaze flicked downward to the rounded thrust of her breasts against the clinging fabric of her dress.
"And you're the type who would notice something like that," Lexie declared coldly.
"Would you prefer that a man not notice how attractive you are?"
"Not necessarily," Lexie admitted. "But I would like him to recognize that I have a mind and needs to be satisfied, the same as he does."
"O
ur acquaintance has been brief," said Rome, "but I've noticed you have a mind. I have yet to find out about those needs you have to be satisfied."
"You don't have what it takes to satisfy them." She avoided the black infinity of his eyes as she slipped the shawl around her shoulders. "Shall we go?"
In answer, Rome uncoiled his long length from the chair.
| Go to Table of Contents |
Chapter Four
WHEN THEY ARRIVED at the nightclub Lexie had chosen to fill the rest of the evening, Rome gave her a sidelong look as they approached the entrance. "This is going to be an expensive evening. Are you certain you can afford it?"
"A woman would never ask that question of a man," Lexie smugly pointed out his lack of tact. "It would be a slur on his earning prowess."
"So instead of being considerate I've insulted you?" he remarked, his crooked smile acknowledging that she had scored a point.
"Precisely."
"My apologies." Rome inclined his head in a mocking bow of remorse.
Lexie couldn't help smiling in return, briefly allowing herself to be taken in by his charming ways, succumbing to the powerful force of his magnetism. Inside the club they found an empty table just as the featured singers took the stage.
Placing the money for their drinks on the table, Lexie acknowledged, but only to herself, that her cash had thinned more quickly than an overweight person on a starvation diet. Perhaps Rome had been right in questioning whether she could afford this lavish evening on the town. He probably had a fair idea what she earned. In a way she hoped he felt guilty that she was spending so much money.
Covertly studying his sculpted profile through the curling sweep of her lashes, Lexie didn't detect any sign of guilt as he watched the group performing. She realized he probably wouldn't feel guilty. His type rarely concerned themselves with matters other than those relating to themselves.
The entertainment negated the need for conversation. Nothing was demanded of Lexie, except to applaud at the conclusion of each song. She began to relax for the first time since the night's beginning. She didn't know whether to give the singing group credit or the wine at dinner followed by the present drink in front of her.
When the singing group left the stage for a break, Lexie commented, "They're very good."
"Yes, they are," Rome agreed.
"You've probably seen them perform hundreds of times, but this is the first time I've seen them," she said.
Rome swirled the drink around the ice cubes in his glass, watching it, an inwardly amused look to his expression. "Lexie, if I spent as many evenings out as you believe I do, how did I happen to have tonight free? A Friday night?"
His gaze caught and held hers. "I…" Lexie faltered, "I was lucky, I guess." She recovered quickly.
"Or perhaps you chose a time so soon in hopes that I would have other plans and be forced to decline your challenge?"
"Before I made it, I found out whether or not you were busy tonight," she reminded him.
"So you did," he agreed. A dance combo had taken the place of the singers. As they struck up a slow ballad Rome glanced at the dimly lit dance floor, then back at Lexie. "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?" he mocked.
Denial was forming on her lips until the familiar phrase reminded her of how many times she had sat at a nightclub tapping her foot to some catchy song and making the same demand of her escort. No doubt it had happened to Rome. Now he was putting it to her. How could she refuse when she had set the rules for this evening?
But it was a grudging, "Shall we dance?" that Lexie offered.
Both rose simultaneously, but Lexie led the winding way through the clutter of tables to the small dance floor, lighted by an ever changing kaleidoscope of colored lights. In a relatively clear area of the floor Lexie turned. Rome stood in front of her, hesitating, a devil light dancing in his eyes.
"Do you want to lead or shall I?" he queried.
"You lead." Lexie managed a tight smile, simmering at the way he had taken every opportunity to taunt her with the impossibility of completely reversing their roles with ease. "I wouldn't want to be accused of stepping on your toes."
Rome laughed, a pleasant sound that shivered down her spine, making Lexie once again intensely conscious of his considerable attraction. When he took her hand and slid his arms around her waist, Lexie felt an electric current shoot through her. It added a new tension to her finely strung nerves. She knew she was unnaturally stiff in his arms but she didn't want to risk coming in closer contact with him for a moment.
"Relax." His low voice spoke in the vicinity of her ear. "Enjoy the music."
If he had asked her to enjoy anything else, Lexie would have ignored him, but that was an inducement she could submit to as she let the languorous beat of the music carry her away. She allowed herself to be drawn closer until she felt the brush of her jaw and chin against her hair. The music swirled about her, evoking its own romantic spell.
One arm was on his shoulder, her hand resting near the back of his neck. The other arm, Rome folded to hold still against the black lapel of his jacket. A sensation of intimacy flowed through Lexie and she arched away from his chest, tipping her head back to warily search his face.
There was a musing curiosity about the look he gave her, oddly warm and gentle. "I always thought redheads had green eyes, yet yours are a vivid blue," he commented absently.
But Lexie didn't want compliments from him, knowing they came too easily to his lips. "Like limpid pools?" she mocked.
"I hope I would have been more original than that." His lazy smile ignored her stinging retort.
"I'm sure you would," she agreed, but hardly in praise.
"Are you Irish?"
"On my father's side," Lexie admitted.
"Me, too, but on my mother's side."
"Black Irish, of course." Her gaze touched on the raven darkness of his hair and eyes.
"Of course."
"Rome darling!" A female voice declared in sheer delight. "I didn't know you were here tonight. Where are you sitting? You must join us."
Half of the words were said before Lexie could turn her head to see the chic blonde dancing near them with a disgruntled-looking partner. The man was plainly unhappy to see Rome. He was attractive in a bland unassuming sort of way and Lexie knew it would be no contest for him to be matched with the likes of Rome Lockwood.
"Hello, Stella—Andy," Rome greeted both of them, but responded to none of the woman's questions.
The pressure of the hand at the back of Lexie's waist would have guided them away from the couple but the song ended, making it impossible.
"You can't have been here very long" Stella declared, "or I would have noticed you. Or maybe you've been hiding in some dark, out-of-the-way corner?"
Cold gray eyes were turned on Lexie, jealousy radiating from the petitely fragile blonde inspecting her and not liking what she saw. Lexie felt her monetary worth being assessed, the hard gaze stripping her silver dress for the status of an appropriate designer label. She wasn't bothered that the blonde couldn't find one.
"We arrived in time to catch the show," Rome admitted.
"I just can't keep up with you!" The girl laughed, a brittle sound. "Another new girl! You must introduce us, darling."
His sideways glance took note of Lexie's veiled amusement before Rome complied with the request. "Lexie Templeton. Stella Van Wyck and Andy Crenshaw."
"Templeton?" The blonde's partner frowned in surprise at the name. "From the newspaper?" he added in disbelief.
"The same," Lexie admitted, realizing he had made the connection.
Stella was not nearly as quick, only the prompting word "newspaper" provided the clue. "From the newspaper?" she repeated, and darted a wide-eyed look at Rome. "You don't mean she's the one who's been saying all those vicious things about you."
"The one and only," Lexie stated before Rome could confirm it.
"And you're here? Tonight? With her?" Stella looked at Rome as if he ha
d taken leave of his senses.
"Why not?" The arm that had been resting lightly at the back of Lexie's waist increased its pressure as Rome glanced to her, a mocking glint in his eyes reserved strictly for her, it seemed. "I've met the enemy and she's mine."
"Hardly," Lexie denied the claim in a cool dry voice, and heard his low throaty chuckle.
"I've heard of some unorthodox methods used to attract your attention, Rome, but Miss Templeton—" Stella's glance at Lexie was contemptuous "—has certainly gone to extremes. She was successful obviously, since she got what she wanted and is here with you tonight."
The color drained from Lexie's face at the completely false accusation that had been leveled at her. She felt the silent speculation of Rome's gaze. Before she could voice any denial the band began playing another song and the four of them had to either dance or make room for others crowding onto the floor.
"Excuse us." Rome's arm was pushing her away from the dance floor.
They were halfway back to their table before Lexie attempted an indignant correction. "I didn't do any of this to attract your attention, Mr. Lockwood. If I wanted to chase a man my approach would be much more straightforward."
"I'd like to see that—your straightforward approach," Rome added to clarify his meaning.
At the table Lexie turned to confront him. "You don't believe me," she accused. "You think I said all those things and asked you out because I wanted you. Your over inflated ego probably thinks every woman is just dying to be with you. Well I'm not! You don't interest me at all."
"I believe you." But his look was one of total amusement, eyes glinting in laughter at her angry denunciation.
"Then you won't object if we leave." She was still furious, but his acceptance frustrated further discussion of the matter. "It's time this evening was brought to an end."
For Lexie, the drive to his apartment was accomplished in smoldering silence, but Rome seemed carelessly relaxed despite the cramped quarters of her car. There was a parking space at the front curb and Lexie whipped the easily maneuverable small car into it.
