An Engagement for Two

by Marie Ferrarella

Instead, he gave her a choice between three main courses, all of which he could personally vouch for. Lobster bisque, veal scaloppini and, just for simplicity’s sake, prime rib.

  Rather than the lobster, she surprised him by going with something he’d always considered to be simple, but elegant.

  “I’ll have the prime rib—the small portion,” Mikki added, since the meal came in three sizes.

  “Wouldn’t you rather order something a little more exotic?” he asked, thinking that perhaps she was being conservative in her choice on his account, because she didn’t want it to seem as if she was taking advantage of his generosity.

  “Actually, I’m a meat-and-potatoes kind of woman,” she explained. “My mother always tended to order things like escargots, and anything that’s better said in French, but I never developed a taste for any of that.”

  Mikki didn’t add that she’d always thought her mother was being pretentious, because she never finished eating any of the complicated-sounding things that she ordered. “Most of the time,” she said, “between studying in medical school and then working double and triple shifts interning at the hospital, I ate on the run, anyway. Once I was finally able to slow down a little bit, my tastes were already set in stone.”

  Jeff smiled at her, enjoying the fact that she had shared something personal with him, even if it just pertained to her acquired food preferences.

  The server approached discreetly and took their order. Jeff waited until the woman withdrew before he said to Mikki, “Maybe I can talk you into having something a little more unique next time.”

  “Next time?” she repeated uncertainly. “You want to take me out to dinner again?”

  She sounded somewhat uneasy. He wondered if it was his imagination, or if she felt that he was coming on too strong.

  Leaning forward just a little, he said, “Doc, I have no doubts that if you hadn’t treated my mother the way you did, with understanding and kindness, not to mention kid gloves, she never would have agreed to the operation. And if she hadn’t, I’m pretty certain that instead of sitting across from a beautiful, highly skilled physician, at this moment I’d be seeing to my mother’s funeral arrangements.

  “What I am saying to you in a lot of words and none too clearly is that there is a table reserved for you at Dinner for Two for the rest of your life.”

  “I think you’re getting a little carried away here,” Mikki said with a self-conscious laugh.

  He surprised her by saying, “Maybe.” And then he added, “But it feels good to do this, so humor me. My mother, who my brother, my sister and I all love to death, is, quite notoriously, a handful. She is stubborn as the day is long and I can honestly say that I have never seen her managed so well and so effortlessly before.”

  Their food arrived far more quickly than she thought possible, and Mikki refrained from making a comment on his observation as she waited while the server placed their orders before them and then withdrew.

  “This looks lovely,” Mikki observed. Everything on both plates had been artistically arranged to please the eye as well as the palate.

  “Half of every dining experience relies on visual appeal,” he explained.

  “And the other half is taste?” She’d expected him to say that it was all about taste and was surprised that he hadn’t.

  “Definitely,” Jeff agreed with a grin. “The food can be made to look as pretty as humanly possible, but if it doesn’t deliver in taste, the customers are not going to be coming back.”

  Listening to him, she took her first bite of the prime rib and immediately felt as if she had slipped into heaven.

  Raising her eyes to his, she couldn’t help commenting, “The customers are definitely coming back.”

  She meant it in general, but he took her remark to be specific and smiled at her. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

  Needing to do something about subduing the growing flutter in her stomach, Mikki went back to their previous topic of discussion. “I think your mother knew that something was wrong and she just needed someone to make her admit that, as well as make her feel that she could be helped.”

  “Well, all that is to your credit, because before you conducted your examination and talked with her, I had talked myself blue in the face trying to convince her to see a doctor. Any doctor,” he confessed. “But time and again, she summarily refused. Because, as I mentioned to you in your office, my father was misdiagnosed, and when his condition did come to light, it was too late to treat him.”

  But Mikki had a different take on the situation. “Your mother wasn’t resisting seeing a doctor because of what happened to your father. It was because, like so many patients suddenly faced with their own mortality, your mother was afraid.”

  “If she was afraid, wouldn’t that make her want to get checked out quickly so whatever was wrong could be treated and taken care of?” he asked.

  “You know how when a child closes their eyes, they think the world disappears because they can’t see it? Well, it’s kind of like that. If a person doesn’t have that test and doesn’t hear the doctor tell them that they have a specific disease or need to have something treated, then they don’t have to deal with having to face the possible consequences.

  “As long as what your mother was experiencing wasn’t being given a specific name, she could go on pretending it didn’t exist. That all that pain she kept having was due to gas, or indigestion, or just her imagination. Once a condition is given a name, it becomes real. And it becomes scarier.”

  Mikki looked down at her plate and suddenly realized that she had talked while eating the prime rib and baked potato she’d ordered. Her plate was absolutely clean.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I just talked shop all the way through dinner.”

  He found her delightful. “First off, don’t be sorry. I was the one who asked you questions, and I did find your explanation to be enlightening. And second, you didn’t talk all the way through dinner. There’s still a lot more dinner left to go,” he promised.

  “More?” Mikki repeated, her eyes widening as she looked at the man sitting across from her. “But I’m stuffed.”

  “Ah, but there’s always room for dessert,” he told her, laughing. “And,” he qualified, “you certainly don’t have to eat it right away. We can linger for the rest of the evening if you’d like,” he assured her. And then, leaning in, he lowered his voice and said with a straight face, “I know the man who owns this place. We don’t have to eat and run.”

  Sitting back again, Jeff asked her, “Would you care for some wine? Or a cordial? Or perhaps something light and fruity to drink?”

  “Coffee,” she told him automatically. It was an easy choice.

  “Coffee?” he repeated uncertainly. At this hour, most people preferred to have a drink rather than something that would keep them awake.

  Mikki nodded. “I need to keep my head clear,” she explained, “just in case I get a call from the hospital.”

  “Are you expecting a call from the hospital?” he questioned, beginning to realize the full extent of the life she led. What she told him next confirmed it.

  “I’m always expecting a call from the hospital,” Mikki said. “Almost all doctors do—unless they happen to specialize in dermatology,” she added with a touch of humor. “Dermatologists are the ones who get to keep regular hours.”

  “But I take it that you don’t?” Jeff asked. From where he was sitting, it seemed to be a rhetorical question.

  She didn’t want him thinking she was trying to look like some sort of a martyr. “For the most part, I do. But there have been cases...” she allowed. “Like when a patient’s ulcer decided to perforate just before midnight on Christmas Eve.”

  “Christmas Eve?” he repeated. “That had to be hard on you.”

  She didn’t want him thinking that she had told him the story so h
e could feel sorry for her. It was just to illustrate how unpredictable her vocation was.

  “Not really,” she told him, backtracking. “I had no plans.”

  “Then you don’t celebrate Christmas,” Jeff guessed.

  “No, I do. Usually with my best friend and her family,” she qualified. “But for the most part, I usually sub for the doctors who want to be home with their families on Christmas.”

  “No family, then?” he asked, finding himself wanting to know things about this beautiful woman with the very sad eyes.

  “I have a family—” Stopping abruptly, she looked up at him. “How did we get started talking about this?”

  “One word led to another,” he told her innocently. For now, not wanting to spook her, he backed off. “I guess I’ve got the kind of face that most people like to talk to.”

  That might very well be true, except that she didn’t usually like to talk, Mikki thought. At least not about herself.

  Still, she had to admit, she was enjoying herself.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you actually expect me to eat that?”

  Mikki looked at the large slice of tiramisu cake on the plate in front of her. The meal she’d just consumed had been more than filling, and she doubted there was even a tiny bit of space left in her stomach.

  “It’s huge,” she protested, adding, “If I eat it, I’ll explode.”

  “It’s not as big as you think,” Jeff assured her, “and I can personally vouch for the fact that it really does melt in your mouth. But all I’m asking is that you try a single forkful to see if you like it. If you do, you can take the rest of it home with you. That’s why God created doggie bags,” he added with a grin.

  She looked at the dessert, a light, fluffy serving of mousse and whipped cream trapped between several paper-thin layers of confection—and she had to admit that it did look absolutely delicious.

  “I guess I can manage to fit in one small bite,” Mikki speculated.

  He held the dessert fork out to her.

  After a moment, she took it.

  “But if I explode all over you,” she warned, “you can’t blame me.”

  “I never blame a patron,” Jeff told her solemnly. “It’s bad for business and word like that gets around very quickly.”

  Mikki had never been the type to overindulge—and that included overeating—not even as a child. So despite the cake’s very tempting appearance, she was ready for this to be a less than pleasant experience.

  Bracing herself, she slid the side of her fork into the cake before her. Then gingerly bringing the fork to her lips, she opened her mouth and then closed it again around the sliver she’d separated from the rest of her dessert.

  Mikki was prepared to become almost nauseated because she felt she was literally stuffing herself.

  However, she discovered that Jeff was right. The sample was so light and airy, it was as if she’d closed her mouth over a thought, an impression, an illusion of cake, but not anything that was real and certainly not substantial.

  She looked up to find Jeff watching her. He seemed like a kid at Christmas, waiting to find out if Santa was real, the way he believed, or not real, the way everyone else maintained.

  She found the expression on his face touching almost against her will.

  “Well?” he asked when Mikki said nothing.

  A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. “You’re right. This is fantastic. But I’m still taking it home with me—if your offer still stands.”

  “Absolutely,” he told her enthusiastically.

  “Because I just can’t do it justice here.” She felt obligated to explain. “I am very full. More than full, actually.”

  “I understand perfectly.” Turning, he signaled the young woman who had served them their dinner. She was at their table almost instantly. “Rachel, please box this up for Dr. McKenna—and put an extra piece in the box, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” the young woman said, all but snapped to attention.

  The man was going over and above the call, Mikki couldn’t help thinking. “Are you sure I can’t pay for any of this?” Mikki asked him. She’d glimpsed the prices on the menu when she’d perused it earlier, and they were far from inexpensive.

  “I thought I made it clear that your money’s not good here. And that you’re welcome here anytime.”

  Was he issuing her a standing invitation? “I don’t get a chance to get out much,” she began, about to demur his offer.

  But Jeff deftly headed her off at the pass.

  “All the more reason to come here and eat. I know you eat,” he stressed with a smile. “Like a bird, but you eat. And based on my own experience, I can testify that getting out once in a while is good for the soul—not to mention that it allows you to recharge your batteries.”

  “Well, my batteries—and my soul—are sufficiently recharged, so I’d better get going and free this table up for one of your other patrons. Your paying patrons,” she stressed. Turning, she looked past the reservation desk. There were an awful lot of people there, all waiting for tables. “I can see a line forming.”

  Jeff laughed, rising to his feet. “They’re not all waiting for our table. However, I’m happy to say that business is very good.”

  “Well, it should be,” she answered, surprising him. “The food certainly is.”

  He executed a little bow. “Thank you.”

  Mikki returned the courtesy by inclining her head in a gesture of thanks. “And thank you for dinner.”

  “Anytime,” he said, then repeated, “Anytime.” Picking up the boxed dessert, he told her, “I’ll walk you out.”

  She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to do that, that she knew he had to be very busy. But for some reason, maybe because she had had a good time, the words didn’t come out.

  Instead, she decided to let Jeff walk her to the entrance of the restaurant—or the exit, depending on her viewpoint. Besides, this whole dinner had been a onetime thing, and as such, she’d decided to simply enjoy it for what it was and leave it at that.

  Her life was a whirlwind of patients and the hospital, not to mention her volunteer work at the free clinic. She was always giving a hundred and ten percent of herself. Just this once, she decided to have a little me time, and as such, she intended to savor it—especially since it was almost over.

  But like Cinderella holding her lone glass slipper after the ball ended, she had her souvenir of a surprisingly happy evening—she had her cake.

  “Where’s your car?” Jeff asked as they reached the double doors.

  “Outside,” she answered.

  He laughed. “Considering the alternative, my insurance agent will be very happy to hear that. Where outside?”

  She thought for a moment. She’d been in a hurry to park and have Nikki go on her way, she hadn’t really paid that much attention to the exact spot. “Um, I’m not sure,” she admitted.

  “Well, then let’s go look for it,” Jeff offered, opening the double door and holding it for her.

  She didn’t feel right about this.

  “I’ve monopolized you long enough,” Mikki protested. “I can’t take you away from your work any longer.”

  “Doc, it’s dark out,” he pointed out as they stepped outside. “I know this is Bedford and it’s usually incredibly safe, but there’s always that one in a million chance that someone might want to take advantage of a beautiful woman under the cover of night. Humor me and let me walk you to your car.”

  A rush of warmth came over her, and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was an early spring evening. She did her best to block it out.

  “I know you don’t do this for all your patrons,” she insisted.

  “No, you’re right,” he agreed. “But, like the name of my restaurant implies, most of my patrons come here to dine
in pairs. And, in addition, none of my patrons saved my mother’s life.”

  Mikki felt herself weakening despite her attempts to remain strong. “You make it very hard to argue with you,” she told him.

  Jeff’s eyes appeared darker in this light, and they seemed to almost sparkle as he smiled at her. “Good. Now, what color is your car?” he asked, looking around.

  “It’s a light blue Corolla. It’s a two-door,” she added.

  “Right, I remember now. Two doors,” he repeated. “That’s why we took my car when we drove my mother to the hospital.”

  The parking lot was filled to capacity, and it took several minutes before they were able to locate her car. Ironically, Jeff was the one to spot it first.

  “Is it that one?” he asked, pointing at a nearby vehicle.

  She felt like an idiot for not having seen it first—and for forgetting where she had parked in the first place.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Mikki told him. “Okay,” she declared, taking the boxed tiramisu from his hands. Her fingers accidentally brushed against his, and something seemed to momentarily stir within her. “I can take it from here. Thank you again,” she said, all but tossing the words over her shoulder as she hurried away.

  She moved fast, he thought, wondering if it was because she was afraid that he would try to kiss her. He had to admit that it was a tempting thought, but one he would have never acted on unless she gave him some sort of indication that she wanted him to.

  He stood there, watching her go, then waited until she got into the car. Not because he thought anything might happen to her. No, he watched just because he found the view to be extremely appealing from where he was standing.

  Maybe what he was feeling was motivated by gratitude. At this point he really couldn’t honestly say. But he did know that there was something about this graceful, beautiful woman with the appealing mouth that moved him and made him smile—from the inside out.

  He stayed where he was until he saw her open her car door and get in. After Mikki pulled out of the lot, he finally turned around and went back inside. And that, Jeff mused, was the closest he’d come to a date in two years. Maybe he needed to begin delegating more so he could do this again—and this time bring his date home. After all, he’d been gone the whole day when his mother had had her surgery earlier this week and the world hadn’t come to an end—and neither had his restaurant.