As soon as she thought the coast was clear, she exited Kublai Khan and headed south.
She truly had been going north, but she could head down to her bicycle and leave now. She didn’t need to stay.
Although she hated the idea that she was letting a man chase her away from a good time.
She forced herself back into a few more galleries she’d been in already and ran into a surprising number of people she knew. Olivia hadn’t come tonight, of course, but Natalie recognized a lot of Olivia’s friends. Plus, she ran into Steve Stegner, George, Sugar, Marie, and even Mrs. Conner from the post office, who was dancing to some techno tunes in the Futuroso Gallery. Paige came late and finally introduced her to Tag Tagalieri. He was cute, but Natalie simply shot Paige a warning look and mouthed “the bet” at her.
As the night wound down, Natalie peeled off her shoes and wandered toward her beach-cruiser bicycle in the lower parking lot. She inhaled the salty, familiar scent of the cool ocean air as it tossed tendrils of hair across her cheeks and blew her dress around her legs.
As she threw her shoes and purse into the front basket, a figure sitting out in the sand caught her eye. Is that . . . ? She squinted harder through the dark and headed in that direction. The sand was cold beneath her bare feet as she drew closer.
“Elliott?”
The wind swept his hair in front of his eyes as he turned his head. “Natalie! We keep running into each other.”
“What are you doing here? Where’s Stephanie?”
“We saw her ex in the Kokopelli Gallery and they . . . uh . . . rekindled, I guess. Behind one of the Chinese tapestries.” The moonlight bounced off the ocean and illuminated his sad smile.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She bent her legs beneath her and sank into the sand beside him. “That sucks.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t very interested in her anyway.” He threw a piece of driftwood out toward the water. “Maybe I’m off the hook.”
The waves crashed wildly in front of them. Natalie glanced at the ocean. The beach was always peaceful at this time of night, the water so dark it seemed a black hole for secrets that you might want to whisper and be absolved of by morning. The only sounds to interrupt were the waves rolling forward and hissing back, and some crickets chirping in the distance, up by the sidewalk.
She swept some of the sand to the side and relaxed beside him. He had his arms wrapped around his knees, his ankles crossed. His shoes sat in the sand. The pot of daisies lay pathetically nearby, getting sand blown into them.
“Oh!” She rescued them and shook some of the sand out. They were a gorgeous, vibrant berry color. “Stephanie didn’t take these at all then?”
“No. Do you want them?”
“Oh—I couldn’t. You should bring them home.”
“Honestly, I might forget to water them. You take them.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
She tucked them into her side. It was cute that Elliott didn’t like cut flowers. She’d always felt a little sad about them, too. These live daisies would look pretty planted outside the window of Olivia’s new nursery.
“So, you weren’t really smitten with her?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“What usually causes you to be smitten?”
He looked up at her, as if surprised by the question. “I haven’t felt smitten in a while.”
“Do you date much?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Work.”
“You’d rather work than date?”
He gave a little smile at that. “It’s easier to figure out gene sequences than to figure out women.”
Natalie smiled back and watched the ocean for a minute. “What exactly do you do, Elliott?”
“I’m a microbiologist,” he said. “I study virulence factors in pathogenic bacteria.”
Natalie blinked. “And that’s easier than dating?”
“Infinitely.” The smile grew sexier.
Natalie cleared her throat. “So what does ‘studying virulence factors in pathogenic bacteria’ mean, exactly?”
“Virulence factors are molecules that tell you about the bacteria, so you can study them and make correlations. Like if the sea lions that have a certain gene are getting sicker or not responding to meds. There’s such a huge outbreak here, so I came to have a lot of samples to study. But my friend Jim is . . . well . . .” He slumped back and stared out at the ocean.
“Jim is what?”
“Never mind. I’ve got to knock this off.”
“Knock what off?”
“Talking like this. My sister told me to stop talking like a geek. Especially on dates. This can get boring very quickly.”
“We’re not on a date.”
“Of course.” He winked. “Mancation.”
“Yes.”
Natalie didn’t want to admit how cute he looked right now. Or how many times she’d questioned her mancation already. Because of him. If she admitted any of that to herself, the bet was over. So she dove back into denial and tried to ignore the small flutters in her stomach.
“I find you interesting,” she suddenly blurted.
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Or, I mean, it,” Natalie stammered. “Your job. I find your job interesting.” Why was she blabbering? This wasn’t going to help her denial at all. At this point, denial might require a zip for her lips. Or a blindfold. Or an ejector seat to jettison her butt out of there.
Amusement played along his features as he looked at her more carefully. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“So you think it’s okay that I talk about my job on dates then?”
She took a deep breath. “I think your sister is wrong on this one. I think you should be able to talk about what you love and feel passionate about, and if they don’t find it interesting, then maybe they’re not right for you.”
The waves crashed into the blackness again as he contemplated that.
She shook a little more sand out of the flowers so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze and be befuddled by that quirk of his mouth.
He nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
“So who’s your next date?” she asked with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Denial also demanded that she stick to her plan of helping him if she could.
“I think her name is Betsy. Or Becky?”
“Becky Huffington?”
“Nell didn’t say her whole name.”
“Science teacher? She’s writing a paper about the telescope on the hill?”
“That sounds right.”
“Huh.” Natalie stared out into the ocean.
Becky actually would be a good date for Elliott. She was one of Olivia’s friends—smart, kind, funny. Her long-term boyfriend had died in a scuba-diving accident two years ago and everyone had been encouraging her to move on. She was in her midthirties—maybe a little old for Elliott—but Natalie could picture them perfectly together. She took a deep breath and ignored the twinge of jealousy that shot through her.
“If it’s Becky Huffington, you’ll do fine,” she finally admitted. “You can probably talk science all night long, and she’ll gobble it up.”
“Is that right?” Elliott turned his shoulders toward her. “Nell said she saved the best for last.”
“Yeah, definitely . . . I could see that.”
“Do you think she’d like all the things the Colonel mentioned? The flowers, all that?”
“Um, yeah, actually.” Natalie thought about how Becky had always had an old-fashioned gracefulness. “I think she would. Here—give her these.” Natalie thrust the flowers back at him. Suddenly she wasn’t in the mood for them anymore. Becky would take her new flowers, her new friend. He would probably tell her she had intelligent eyes.
“No, you keep them.” He pushed them back. “They reminded me of you anyway. I asked specifically for gerbera daisies.”
Natalie raised her eyebrow. “Really?”
“I figured you had good taste.”
“I think all women love gerbera daisies.” Another competitive streak flashed through her, and she tucked the flowers closer to her hip. She shouldn’t take them, but now she wanted to keep one thing from Elliott before he met Becky. Which didn’t make sense, but there it was. “Thank you.”
He was looking at her intensely. “Should I pick her up at the door? Do you think she’d be amenable to that?”
“Yeah. She’s rather traditional. Plus, then you get to bring her home and offer one of those good-night kisses.” Natalie tried to throw a friendly grin into that one, but it came out feeling a little lopsided.
Elliott shot her another grin. “Sorry about that earlier. The Colonel can be a little pushy. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it awkward, exactly. You definitely know what you’re doing in that department.”
Elliott wouldn’t meet her eyes, but she thought she saw him smile.
“Anyway, I think Becky will be in good hands with your first-date skills. And the Colonel’s advice. But she’s old-fashioned enough that you probably shouldn’t push past the front door. I don’t know if Becky would sleep with anyone on the first date.”
“Oh, yeah. I would never . . .” Elliott shook his head.
Natalie turned more toward him and marveled at his clear discomfort at the topic of sex. This guy was adorable.
“You don’t sleep around on first dates?” Natalie didn’t know what was propelling her to push this conversation, but suddenly she was intensely curious.
“I . . . uh . . . no.” He shook his head. “I have um . . . firm . . . uh, instructions. Firm instructions. I’m uh . . . no. No sex on these blind dates. Instructions from my sister.”
“Well, that’s smart. Too close together? Too many girls?”
His ears were bright red now, visible even in the moonlight. “Um . . . yeah. Too uh . . . too many of her friends . . . It would just be . . .” He pulled out his phone and looked at the time. “I should be going.”
Natalie swept her feet underneath her and hastily followed Elliott to a standing position.
She didn’t really want to leave. Sitting out here with the ocean crashing in front of them, holding berry-colored gerbera daisies that Elliott said reminded him of her, and watching him blush while he stammered about sex was more charming than she cared to admit, but she probably should be getting back. She swept sand out of the lace on her dress.
“Let me walk you.” He scooped up his shoes.
“No, I have my bicycle. Plus, I should check to see if Paige is ready to leave, too.”
“Are you sure? I’d love to walk with you.”
She looked up at him—at the way the wind was whipping his hair into a mess over his eyes, at his hand casually in his trouser pocket, relaxed now that the topic of conversation was off him—and thought she truly would like that.
But . . . mancation, Natalie.
Maybe Paige was right to laugh at her. Maybe she couldn’t last three weeks.
“That’s okay. Good night, Elliott,” she finally said, turning to walk away up the dune.
She thought about turning back, to see if he was still looking at her. It was the first time she’d ever hoped for such a thing. All her life she’d hidden under menswear and clunky clothes and men’s hats, hoping to keep men from looking at her. But those were men who weren’t seeing her for who she was—only for what she looked like, and what they might like to do to her. But this man—this man was different. He thought she had intelligent eyes. Her hair color reminded him of a place where he grew up. He might want to be her friend. He didn’t sleep with women on the first date. He wanted something more. And the idea that he might find “more” in her thrilled her.
And she hoped he was looking right at her.
As her bare feet pulled through the sand at the very top of the hill, Natalie thought once more about turning to check.
Then her hope and confidence slid away. She resisted looking back. Because she didn’t want to know he was already turned toward the ocean, probably thinking of “the best for last” Becky.
She put the daisies that weren’t really hers in the basket of her beach cruiser, knocked her kickstand with her bare foot, and—although she could almost feel his eyes on her—pedaled away before she could check.
Because disappointment sucked.
Elliott watched Natalie all the way up the street, her 1920s dress flapping in the wind behind her, her hips dipping heavily left, then heavily right, to pedal her bike in her bare feet.
Damn, she was cute.
And incredibly sexy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat so close to a woman he’d found so sexy.
Maybe Ashley Thomas? In tenth grade? Ashley had sat next to him in English class and once asked for a pencil, and he’d spilled his lunch all over her—homemade by Grandma—including the gravy packed for his cold chicken. He’d scrambled to clean it up, accidentally touched her thigh, and she’d shrieked and pushed him away, yelling “Pervert!” at the top of her lungs. He’d never been able to look at her since. He was so glad when he’d switched schools a few weeks later.
Or then there was the time he stood by one of the Notre Dame cheerleaders at a football game and—in his gawking—hadn’t realized he’d put his sweatshirt on inside out. She’d smiled at him, checking him out, and he’d thought it was because she liked his build. When he’d gotten home and had seen the inside stitching in the mirror, which looked like some kind of insane heart, he’d realized why she’d made such a quick getaway.
But Natalie didn’t make him feel like a misfit. He had to give her that. Even with all his stammering through an unintelligible admission about how little dating he did and how little sex he had—had he seriously admitted all that?—her expression had managed to look like one of interest more than pity. And for that he’d be forever grateful to her.
Thoughts of her kindness carried him all the way back to his place. And then they mingled with one or two sexier thoughts of her that he allowed himself for brief interludes. The sexier thoughts mostly involved the glimpse of a beautiful thigh he’d caught when she’d stood up from the sand, along with the hint of some lacy underwear, and how the curve of her bottom had made him almost hyperventilate.
But she deserved better than to have him lusting after her. She was trying to be a friend, and the least he could do was respond in kind.
He forced himself back to work. And back to thoughts of his sea lions. And one or two brief thoughts about how he’d approach this date with Becky tomorrow. When his thoughts began drifting toward Natalie again, as they inevitably did, he forced himself back.
It was best to stay grounded in reality and logic.
CHAPTER 10
When Natalie woke the next morning, the first thing she saw were the berry-colored gerbera daisies on her nightstand, and she wanted to smile and roll back and think of Elliott giving them to her, but she didn’t.
Because he hadn’t really bought them for her.
And she wasn’t his date.
And she was on a mancation.
And he was going out with Becky Huffington tonight.
“Aunt Nattie!” Lily bounded on her bed as the springs groaned their dismay. “It’s time to get up!” Lily had come along with four stuffed animals and a soft Elsa doll, all tucked under her arms. “Guess what day it is?”
Natalie rolled over. “What day?”
“Sea lion day!” A few more squeaky-bed bounces confirmed her joy.
All Natalie could do was groan. She’d have to go to bed earlier to get used to this schedule. It wasn’t even Fr
iday yet of the very first week, and she was already crushed from this nanny gig.
“All right, let’s get ready. School first.”
Natalie dropped Lily off at school with several oohs and aahs at the fifteen crayon drawings Lily had done of the three little sea lions, then multiple promises that they’d see the pups after pickup today. Then Natalie drove through the canyon in Olivia’s golf cart to her other job.
It was Zumba day at Casas del Sur. Steve Stegner explained that the ladies had lost their usual Zumba instructor, Cheryl, who was getting married and moving to Tahiti, and they wondered if Natalie might fill in.
She rushed down the hall to the ten a.m. class.
“I haven’t had time to study the DVD yet,” Natalie told Doris, who met her in the doorway.
“It’s okay, dear, we know the routine.” Doris patted Natalie’s arm as she pulled her into the room. Tiny bells—lined all the way around Doris’s brightly colored belly-dancer skirt—jingled as she took each barefooted step. “We just need you to help us with the music equipment. I can handle my phone, but those MP3 players confuse the heck out of me.”
The room was filled with twenty senior citizens, about seventy years on up, who all wore jingling scarves around their hips and colorful dance clothes. They were all shapes and sizes, and they all moved at different paces—some practicing slow, simple samba steps in the corner. All were barefoot.
Natalie found the music they were looking for on the MP3, connected the speakers through Bluetooth, and adjusted the volume for Doris, who took her place at the front of the room and shouted out instructions. “Now salsa, ladies! Now merengue!”
Doris was impressive. Although she moved fairly slowly, she seemed sure and steady in her bare feet, knocking her hip out at all the right moments, moving her limbs as if they were made of water. Natalie found herself staring and wanting to dance along.
After the last song, the women whooped and high-fived. The energetic activity seemed to have taken ten years off each of their flushed, smiling faces, and they all moved toward the door with their water bottles, hugging one another and giving more high fives.
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