by JoAnn Durgin
Draping one arm over his stomach, Thornton raised his other in the air and swayed to the upbeat jazz duet. The man was nothing if not dramatic. Sure, he was being silly, but it was also one of the cutest, most endearing things she’d ever seen a man do. He still managed to look entirely masculine while doing his little dance, not an easy feat.
The best part? His efforts were for the sole purpose of coaxing a smile from his grandmother, thereby making it one of the sweetest things she’d ever witnessed. The man had more than good intentions. Thornton Fielding had a heart. A generous, sensitive, caring heart. Family meant a lot to him, enough to risk making himself look foolish.
Vara’s eyes widened as he danced in her direction. Stopping in front of her chair, he bowed. “Dance with me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Please do this for Charlotte. And me. I’m not completely selfless.” With a heart-stopping smile, he rose to an upright position, and offered his hand to her.
Bad idea. She shouldn’t do this.
Vara allowed him to assist her to her feet. Listening to her better instincts wasn’t working very well for her today. He rested his other hand on her waist as they began their dance around the living room. She hadn’t known what to expect, but Thornton had great rhythm. Tempted to lose herself in the moment, Vara blinked hard and pulled back instead.
He tightened his hold. “Relax. Allow yourself to have fun.”
“I’m not being paid to have fun.”
“Yes, you are.” His tone held no room for protest.
“You’ve done this before.”
“I’ve done this a few times, yes.” Thornton’s smile reached his eyes. “Never with you.”
Good answer. She lowered her gaze. “You’re very good at the dancing and the talking.” As he continued to lead her around the living room, Vara experienced a freedom she hadn’t felt in longer than she cared to remember. Her smile broke out from behind the veil of clouds.
Thornton spun around once more, taking her with him. Then he slowed them down, twirling her under his arm. “We make a good team. They can’t take that away from me.” When she gave him a quizzical look, he explained. “That’s the name of the song. ‘You Can’t Take That Away From Me’ with Ella Fitzgerald and—”
“Louis Armstrong,” she said. “Besides the fantastic horn playing, his voice is distinctive.”
“It’s a fun song, don’t you think?”
“That it is.” Another song began, and he performed some fancy footwork. “Where did you learn to do that?”
Thornton elevated his voice. “Nana, Vara wants to know where I learned to dance.”
Charlotte gestured toward herself.
“You know it.” He leaned close. “She used to dance quite a bit when she lived in New York in the sixties. The Savoy-Plaza, Waldorf-Astoria, and rumor has it she once boogied down with Led Zeppelin and The Who at The Drake.”
“Nana was a swinging single?” Vara reduced her voice to a whisper. “Really?”
“Really.” Thornton chuckled. “Surprising, isn’t it?”
“Very much so.” She had to ask. “Did she go to Woodstock?”
“If she did, she’s never admitted it to me, but I think some things are better left unsaid. Summertime and the livin’ was easy. I think we have Ella singing that on an album, too.” Thornton held her so close Vara felt the curve of his smile against her cheek. “My grandmother’s led a very interesting life. Rubbed elbows, so to speak, with many well-known figures in the past.”
“Then I’ll need to step up my efforts so Charlotte can share her memories with me.”
“She’d enjoy that.” Thornton’s voice was edged with sadness. “I know she misses those days.”
When she looked up at him, his eyes met hers. Like chocolate, those eyes. Rich and warm. Much more decadent and dangerous than the chocolate espresso in an entirely different way. To avoid the intensity in his gaze, Vara nodded to Charlotte. “Look at her. I’ve never seen such a big smile from her before. Seeing us dance makes her happy.”
“Does it make you happy, Vara?”
“Yes, but I never expected to be dancing in my patient’s home. With a man I just met in a coffee shop this morning. All in all, I’d say it’s one of the best perks I’ve ever had on the job.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” When Thornton shifted his hand on her waist, his thumb lightly grazed her hip. Perhaps she was hyper aware of him, but the move alerted all Vara’s senses and made her feel more womanly than she’d felt in a very long time. And now, she was being silly. Just because a man danced with her didn’t mean anything. Not a single thing.
Yet somehow, she knew it did.
“The dancing ability must run in the family,” she murmured. When he pulled her closer while still maintaining a respectful distance, Vara didn’t resist. Drawing nearer to this man seemed natural and not in the least bit awkward.
She’d always loved to dance, but it had never been one of Daniel’s favorite activities. Other than dancing to a song or two at wedding receptions, that was the extent of it. With Daniel, it was more that it was expected instead of an opportunity to hold her in his arms. Maybe he hadn’t been proud to be seen with her whereas he’d been showing off his blonde, beautiful, ex-Miss Minnesota girlfriend all over Minneapolis in recent months.
She hadn’t been good enough for Dr. Daniel. Perhaps more than the loss of the relationship, it was that truth that cut deep and twisted the knife.
“Why so sad?”
Vara briefly met Thornton’s eyes before glancing away. “I haven’t done this in a long time.”
His warm lips grazed her temple as he turned his head to smile at Charlotte. “I have the feeling you’re talking about more than dancing.” Whether or not the grazing had been intentional, Vara could only pray her knees wouldn’t buckle.
“And you’re more perceptive than I need you to be,” she said.
“Is that a complaint?”
“Um, no. Not really.”
“Good.”
“Thornton. Is there anything you can’t do?”
He grinned. “Tons of things.”
“Can you give me an example?”
Surprising her, he stepped back and twirled her beneath his arm before pulling her to him again.
“I asked what you can’t do.”
“I know, but I felt like twirling you. Don’t be shocked if I dip you before we’re done. ‘Cheek to Cheek’ is up next. It’s a personal favorite.”
When she realized what she’d been doing, Vara drew in a quick breath and moved her right hand back to his. What was she thinking, what was she doing, running her fingers over the top button of his collared shirt beneath the green sweater? She used to do that with Daniel’s shirts, but only after she’d known him much longer.
“I don’t mind,” he said.
“But I mind. And you’re stalling.”
He chuckled. “Did you not hear any of that teasing about how I can’t cook, can’t sing, and I’m associated with a frog?”
“Yes, but it’s obvious these ladies love you. I’d like to hear it from your perspective.”
“Very well. If you insist. I stink at softball and can’t hit the side of the biggest barn in town. It’s not the eye-hand coordination thing, or I wouldn’t be able to make functional prototypes with any kind of precision. I don’t know what it is, but I’m no good.”
“That’s not so bad,” she said. “As far as the cooking, that’s easily remedied. It’s like anything else. You start by opening a cookbook and following the directions. Eventually you learn to adapt the recipe to your own preferences.”
“Do you really think it’s that easy? Rose swats me with a dish towel and sends me in the opposite direction if I so much as lift a ladle in her kitchen.”
“I’ll try to put in a good word for you. What’s your favorite dish?”
“I’m not choosy.” Those brown eyes searched hers. “What do you have in mind?”
Time to
regain her equilibrium and her senses. Part of her wanted to step away—run away—but another part of her wished never to leave the circle of this man’s arms. She felt safe, protected. How was that possible? She barely knew him. Dancing with Thornton was heady, thrilling, and this side of foolish.
“I think you’re talking about more than cooking,” she said.
“Shh, quiet.” Lifting his head to the ceiling, Thornton closed his eyes.
“What are you doing now?”
“Enjoying the moment.”
“Who are you, Thornton Fielding?”
His eyes fluttered open, and he quirked a brow. “Meaning?”
“You had me going with the whole Darcy impersonation when I first arrived. Was that an act or is this the real you? Which is the true Thornton Fielding?”
“Why can’t I be both? Tell me about this Darcy person so I can better understand.”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy, the archetype of the aloof romantic hero and love interest of Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.”
“Ah yes, the female obsession with all things Jane Austen.”
“Mr. Darcy is a wealthy man who slights and insults our heroine by refusing to dance with her.”
“Then he falls in love with Elizabeth and proposes marriage—”
“Which she refuses because of his ungentlemanly ways.”
“And after searching his soul and perhaps doing something to prove he’s not such a horrible person, he proposes again, and she accepts. The end.”
Vara laughed. “You know the story.”
“Not really. It’s rather predictable, and I’ve tried to avoid it. Your mention jogged my brain and brought it all crashing down around me. Thank you for that.”
She angled her head. “You’re welcome, I’m sure.”
Thornton twirled her under his arm again and then brought her close. “Charlotte and Rose lead a book club, so yes, I remember his name being mentioned a few times. Vara, please tell me why women are so obsessed with Darcy’s character.”
She considered the question a moment. “I think there’s a mystery about him. They believe they can tame him, reform him, make him see the error of his ways, or help him find his redemption.” Vara sighed. “Then love changes him, and he’s willing to sacrifice for her. Ultimately, a woman hopes he’ll fall in love with her.” Her eyes widened. “Did I say that out loud?”
“I didn’t hear a thing.”
Vara frowned. “That’s right. You didn’t.”
“Because you don’t believe in love.”
She met his gaze. They were barely moving now. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe in love, Thornton. I said I didn’t believe in soul mates.”
“To be continued at a later date.” He smiled. “I don’t know about you, but this session has been enlightening.”
Vara stepped away from him. “It’s time to dance with Rosalinda now.”
Appearing shocked, Rosalinda put one hand over her chest. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” Thornton dropped a light peck on Charlotte’s cheek and then led Rosalinda by the hand to the middle of the room.
Vara went to stand beside Charlotte in her wheelchair. “Thornton’s a very good dancer, isn’t he?”
Charlotte nodded but didn’t try to speak. For now, Vara wouldn’t press the issue. As they continued to watch, the older woman surprised her by reaching for her hand.
Curling her fingers around Charlotte’s, Vara smiled. She might not have accomplished as much as she’d wanted this morning, but she’d accomplished enough.
In some ways, it was more than enough.
Chapter Eight
The Following Monday Morning
Andrea snapped her dish towel on Thornton’s arm, making him jump. “Hey, now! Is that any way to treat a paying customer? You almost made me spit out my coffee.” First Rose, now Andrea. Why did women like swatting him with towels?
“Sorry, but would you please sit still already? You’re going to scare my other customers away with all your squirming. They’re going to think you’ve got a rash.”
“I’m not going to dignify that ridiculous comment.” He steeled himself not to laugh. “Give me a break.”
“Don’t give me that look. You’re a grown man, not a 10-year-old boy.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” Thornton wiped his mouth with his fingers since he’d forgotten a napkin, as usual. “Half this town still sees me as that wild Fielding kid.”
“You weren’t wild,” Andrea said. “You were full of life and curiosity, same as you are now. But I have to say, you’ve gotten a bit…stuffy…the last few years.”
“Stuffy? Me?” He shook his head. Crazy woman.
“I have to say, it’s nice to see you worked up over a woman and loosening up more. I was about to write you off as Cherish’s permanent bachelor.”
He’d ignore the worked up comment. “If George Clooney—a sworn bachelor—finally found love and is going to be a father, there’s hope for me yet. I’ve never claimed I want to be single the rest of my life. I’m not one for the monastery life. For one thing, I can’t sing.”
“You’d make a great father because you are a big kid with those toys of yours.”
“George had a black, potbellied pig before he found the human love of his life. You can insult me, but please don’t insult my livelihood. Those toys pay the bills.”
“Then there’s all your love talk. Listen, I know I tease you, but there’s no way sweet Sarah can resist you for long.” Andrea tweaked his cheek. “Especially with this handsome face. I see you decided to grow your beard again. Why do you insist on covering up that cleft? A cleft is the mark of a very handsome man. Tom Brady has a cleft. Some of those hunky Hollywood actors have them, too, don’tcha know.”
“I like the beard. Plus, it’s easier when I’m on the road. Andrea, what can you tell me about Mr. Darcy’s character in Pride and Prejudice? Specifically, what is it about him that women find so appealing?”
Andrea stopped working and a dreamlike haze overtook her features. “What’s not to like?”
“Can you maybe elaborate on that?”
She took the chair next to his. “Why the interest in Darcy? Is this research of some kind?”
“I’m just curious. He seems to be a worldwide phenomenon. Women swooning…” He waved his hand. “Apparently, he’s all that.”
“Well, he is definitely all that. Darcy is rich, good looking, tall, powerful. In the beginning, though, he’s arrogant, brooding, and insufferable. Unavailable. It’s not a love-at-first-sight story but a gradual process where Darcy begins to admire Elizabeth for who she is—unconventional, intelligent, beautiful. She doesn’t sacrifice her principles, and she’s content in herself and doesn’t need him or any man in order to understand her worth.”
“Sounds like this book could have been written today instead of in the 19th century.”
Andrea smiled. “That’s the beauty of classic literature. Its themes are universal and relevant as much for today as when they were originally written. The world may change, but the heart doesn’t.”
“That’s profound. Really,” Thornton insisted when she frowned. “What else?”
“After Elizabeth rejects his marriage proposal, Darcy begins to evaluate his character, and he finds himself lacking. Through various situations and circumstances, he begins to grow into his own. He falls more in love with Elizabeth, and we can see that he longs for her, and he’s willing to sacrifice for her. That’s the mark of a true hero, Thornton. And I think that’s why Darcy is such an irresistible character.” She shrugged. “What woman wouldn’t want a man who makes her his whole world?”
Thornton nodded. “This is good stuff to know. Now, tell me this. What exactly is he willing to sacrifice?”
Andrea sighed. “Elizabeth’s social station is beneath his. He can have any woman he wants, and yet he chooses her.”
“So, it’s a retelling of the Cinderella story?”
“In a way,
yes. The story has a definite fairy tale element. But, you see, once Darcy makes up his mind that he wants Elizabeth, he’s all in. He sees that she’s special and worthy of his pursuit. He’s willing to give up his entire world in order to make her his world, and he’ll do whatever it takes to conquer her heart.”
Andrea released a long sigh. Then she focused her blue eyes on him and rose from the chair. “I hope that answers your question.”
“It does. Thank you, my friend.”
“You betcha.”
Time for a little payback teasing. “So, who is Sarah?”
Andrea stopped rearranging the condiments on an adjacent table and stared at him like his fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Landau, after he’d explained how hostile aliens had abducted his science project. Well, not that extreme, but close.
“Gorgeous girl, long dark hair, big green eyes. Ring a bell? You’ve only been watching the front window and checking your watch every two minutes hoping to get a glimpse of her. Why, you’re like a nervous teenage boy itching for a glimpse of the prettiest girl in town.”
“Her name’s Vara, not Sarah.” And what was with the rash and itching references? It made him squirm thinking about it. “She’s Charlotte’s speech and language pathologist. Vara’s due in town this morning, but that doesn’t mean she’ll show up here. We didn’t make specific plans to meet.”
Andrea’s hand moved to her hip. “All I know is, you’re more dressed up today. Why, you’ve even got your fancy pants on!”
“They’re called khakis. I wore them to church yesterday, so they were within reach.” Although it was true, that tidbit fell under the TMI category. Because Rose was busier with Charlotte, he’d been doing his own laundry. On the road, he always had a service take care of it, but he figured it was time to learn. Yeah, he’d been spoiled.
A frown creased Andrea’s brow. “If that’s a crack about why I wasn’t in church yesterday, the hubs and I took our day of rest downtown for lunch and a movie. I’m in church most every Sunday, but I miss one week, and you’d think I’d committed a grievous sin and am doomed to you-know-where for eternity by some of the looks I got in here earlier this morning.”
