Improper English

  Alex was there, sitting with his back to the room, leaning across the table to say something to Karl. Isabella sat between them, while next to Karl sat a cheerful-looking red-haired woman and Daniel. Three empty chairs loomed up to the right of Alex. I stared at the empty chair next to him and felt my stomach contract into a dense ball approximately the size of a neutron.

  “Please,” I whimpered to Ray as she heartlessly dragged me forward. “Please, Ray, if you have any mercy in your soul, take the chair next to Alex.”

  She made an inelegant snorting sound and hustled me forward.

  “No, I’m serious,” I whispered as we approached, my hands sweaty and my stomach rolling over with every step. Alex started to turn around to see whom Karl and Isabella were smiling at. “I have money! I’ll pay you! Just take that chair and you can name your price! Any price!”

  Twin shafts of emerald pierced through the armor the new Alix had erected. My knees buckled under that look, and only Ray’s grip on my elbow kept me from collapsing on the spot. Or turning tail and running. I wasn’t sure which I wanted more at that point, but Ray grunted an encouragement in my ear, and I managed to stiffen my knees and meet Alex’s gaze when he and Karl stood. I slapped a smile on my face and did the pleasantries. “Good evening, everyone. How nice you look, Isabella. Karl, it’s a pleasure to see you again. You must be Paula. I’m delighted to meet you. Daniel, you look to be in a devilish mood.”

  There, that took care of everyone but the man standing next to me waiting while Bert and Ray greeted everyone. I took my new sense of purpose in a firm grip, and turned to face him. The shock of standing so close to him, of having those green eyes glitter into mine so intimately, stunned me for a moment, but at last I dragged my brain from the contemplation of all the things I wanted to do to him and mustered a smile. “Happy birthday, Alex. How does it feel to be thirty-six?”

  “You look lovely tonight, Alix.” I stopped breathing at his words, teetering on the brink of falling into the deep well of emerald of his eyes, but he saved me from going over the edge. With a wry twist of his lips, he added, “Thirty-six feels much the same as thirty-five—ancient.” Everyone laughed at his sally. Everyone but me. I was too busy trying to keep my heart from slamming its way out of my chest at the sight of those lips, so close, so tantalizingly, teasingly close that for the chance to give myself up to them, I was almost willing to sell my soul.

  The new Alix shouldered her way forward and reminded me I had almost done just that, and it had ended in disaster. The plan, the new Alix reminded me; we had a plan, and we had to stick to it, and damn it all, kissing Alex wasn’t on the list. I tore my gaze from his lips and sank wordlessly into the chair he held out for me, praying for the strength needed to get through an evening spent sitting next to the man I loved with every atom of my being.

  Champagne was brought while menus were distributed. I managed to maintain a flow of chat with everyone, although I felt light-headed and dizzy even without the champagne. As the waiter collected the menus, Alex shifted in his chair, causing his leg to brush mine. I shot up out of my chair. Heads swiveled to stare at me, but I saw only the question in one pair of eyes.

  “I…uh…have to use the little girls’ room,” I stammered, and edged backward. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?” Isabella asked.

  “No, thanks, I’ve been going to the bathroom by myself for a long time now,” I assured her, and with one last glance at Alex, made my escape.

  If I had hoped to find sanctuary in the loo, I was mistaken. The Ivy was one of those high-class places that had an attendant in the bathroom, a little white-haired Indian woman with a polite smile and lovely dark eyes. She nodded to me as I burst into the bathroom. I nodded back and claimed a stall, wondering what she would think if I spent the whole evening in there.

  I was being ridiculous, and I knew it. Just because I wanted Alex and couldn’t have him didn’t mean I couldn’t be polite to him, sit next to him and converse in an adult, mature manner. To run away just because his leg had inadvertently touched mine, sending flames of desire skimming along the surface of my skin, was neither here nor there. I was a grown woman. I had a plan. Alex may have thought I lacked courage, but I was no coward. Chin held high, I emerged from the stall and washed my hands with the assistance of the loo lady, dropping a pound coin into her tip basket before striding back into the restaurant, self-assurance and poise dripping from every pore.

  Alex rose and held out my chair. Karl did that little half-rise-from-the-chair crouch that men make whose mothers have taught them to stand when a woman enters the room but who are now too enlightened to give in to such sexual stereotyping. I smiled at both and sat, determined not only to survive the evening, but to triumph over my traitorous heart and body. I inquired of Alex how work was going. He replied in the same polite, emotionally bare tone I used. I began to relax as everyone at the table laughed and joked over trivialities, confident that at last I had got myself under control.

  I turned to say something to Alex and found him watching me with a look of longing on his face that almost undid me. The words dried up on my lips as he leaned close and stroked one finger down a path on the inside of my bare arm. Flames followed his touch, igniting the rest of me into a blaze of love and lust and desire and need. I jumped back, almost knocking the chair down as I leaped out of it.

  “Bathroom,” I told the astonished look on Alex’s face. “I have to…uh…excuse me, please.”

  Bert called out something after me, but I didn’t wait to hear it. I dashed into the ladies’ room, smiling wildly at the surprised attendant, and flung myself into an empty stall, rubbing my arm to extinguish the flames.

  “This is intolerable,” I mumbled to myself as I stood in the marble stall, my arms gripped hard around myself to keep the trembling under control. “It was just a finger, just one finger, not even a whole hand, just one little finger on an unerogenous part of the body. Stop acting like a bowl of jelly and get back out there!”

  I couldn’t just leave the bathroom without washing my hands—the attendant would think I had poor personal hygiene habits—so I washed, gave her another pound for standing next to me and offering me a clean towel, straightened my shoulders, and returned to the table.

  Seven pairs of eyes turned on me with concern as I tried to slip inconspicuously into my chair. Isabella leaned across Alex and whispered, “Is there any trouble?”

  Heat flowed up my neck into my cheeks. “No, thank you, everything’s fine,” I whispered back and gave Alex a toothy smile. “Everything’s fine,” I repeated to him before turning my attention back to the table. Knowing I’d be sloshed out of my gourd if I drank the champagne, I asked for a glass of water to relieve the dry mouth my nerves had wrought. The waiter refilled my glass when he brought a second bottle of champagne with the appetizers. I meant to sip my water as everyone toasted Alex, but when I get nervous I get thirsty. I downed the second glass of water, and signaled the waiter for more.

  “Not still feeling sick, are you?” Ray asked quietly, watching me as I started in on the third glass of water.

  “No, just a little parched.”

  “Ah.” The look she bent upon me spoke volumes, but I didn’t have time to decipher it, I was too busy trying to inch my knee away from Alex’s without him noticing. It was a lost cause. They don’t make people detective inspectors if they aren’t observant.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Alex hissed as I tried to edge away from the pressure of his knee against my leg. “Why are you acting like this?”

  I gave up on my leg and just let it go up in flames. “Acting like what?”

  “Why are you squirming in your chair? Is it so bloody difficult to sit next to me?”

  My temper rose at that. Of course it was so bloody difficult! My hands were shaking with the attempt to keep myself from wrestling him to the ground and stripping him naked in front of everyone. The least he could do was help me!

/>   “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” I snapped back. “Why can’t you keep your limbs to yourself? Every time you touch me I—”

  He leaned closer to me until I could see the lovely black edges of the emerald facets in his eyes. “Every time I touch you, you what?”

  “Nothing,” I ground out between my teeth. I had a plan. My plan was good. Nowhere on my list was there an item which included the seduction of Alex in a restaurant.

  I turned my head away from him, intending to ask Daniel a question, when Alex turned my insides to pudding by leaning close to my ear, his breath ruffling my hair as he spoke. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart.”

  I pushed him back with one hand and shoved myself away from the table with the other. Once again every eye at the table was on me as I stood with one hand on Alex’s chest.

  “Bathroom!” I squawked, and ran for my life.

  Five minutes later I returned, another pound poorer, but with my hands soft and perfumed from the scented lotion the attendant had offered.

  “Sorry,” I apologized as I sat down again, reaching for my glass of water. I drank half of it before realizing everyone was watching me.

  “What?” I asked them, looking from one face to another. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

  “Alix.” Isabella reached across Alex and took my hand in hers, giving it a comforting little squeeze. “You are among friends here. You can tell us if something is amiss with you.”—she waved a vague hand toward her torso—“inside.”

  I blinked at her. “What?”

  She frowned at Alex until he sat back in his chair; then she leaned across him. “Dear, we’re concerned about you. These frequent trips to the WC could be indicative of a serious problem. Are you experiencing any burning when you…?”

  Lord, yes, every time Alex glanced at me I went up in flames, but I didn’t suppose that was what she was talking about. My cheeks burned anew under the sympathetic expressions everyone at the table was sending me.

  I glared at my plate and avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’m fine, Isabella. There’s no need for anyone to worry.”

  “Bladder infections can be quite serious, you know,” Paula said from across the table, her red curls bobbing earnestly as she spoke. The ladies at the table all nodded sagely. “A girl I worked with had one, and she ended up going into hospital with kidney damage because she didn’t take care of herself.”

  My blush hitched up a level as speculative looks were focused on me. I cleared my throat and tried to think of something, anything else to talk about but bladder infections. “Thank you, Paula, but I can assure you that I don’t have a bladder infection. So, is everyone looking forward to the opera tonight? Do we have any opera virgins here?”

  “If you don’t have a bladder infection, then why are you running to the WC every two minutes?” Isabella asked. “Do you have food poisoning? Have you had—”

  “No!” I shrieked, wondering if it was possible to fall down dead with embarrassment.

  “Well, if it’s not food poisoning or a bladder infection that’s making you use the WC so frequently, then what is the matter?”

  “Venereal disease,” Ray offered.

  I prayed for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

  Everyone looked at me for a moment, then at Alex. He withstood their gazes well by simply cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t give her anything.”

  “Oh, dear God in heaven,” I moaned, my head sinking to my hands.

  “If she had an STD, she would have some sort of sign, a rash or discharge, surely,” Karl said, frowning. “Alex, have you noticed if she has had any—”

  “That’s it!” I stood up, clutching my evening bag to my chest and glared at everyone at the table. “I’m leaving, but before I go I would just like to tell you all that I do not have a bladder infection, food poisoning, or a sexually transmittable disease, thank you all for asking. Good night!”

  “Alix, sit down.”

  I glared down at Alex. “No. If I sit they’ll start discussing my last pap smear or something.”

  He grabbed my wrist and tugged me down to the chair. “No one is going to discuss anything you don’t want discussed. Sit.”

  I allowed myself to be reseated, but resolved to leave at the first mention of anything else to do with my reproductive organs.

  “What’s a pap smear?” Karl asked Isabella in a whisper that could be heard across a crowded room. Daniel winked and gave me one of his sultry smiles. Ray muttered to Bert that they would need to make sure I went to see a doctor. Alex smiled encouragingly at me as he placed his hand over mine.

  I sighed, resigned to hell. It was going to be a long, long dinner.

  We survived the opera without any further speculation as to the causes of my frequent dashes to the ladies’ room. Alex finally seemed to catch on to my subtle hints that I wasn’t open to his advances toward a reconciliation. I think that point was finally driven home to him when, before the opera began, we had a bit of a squabble over who had the right to our shared armrest. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t quiet, and I’m not proud of calling him a tottyhead in public (“What did you call me?” “Tottyhead. You, sir, are a tottyhead. Tottyhead, tottyhead, tottyhead!”), but the argument served its purpose. He claimed the armrest by dint of it being his birthday, and ignored me for the whole of the opera.

  “What has angered Alexander?” Isabella asked during intermission. I glanced over at where he was weaving his way through the crowd at the bar.

  “He’s just being a big baby because he doesn’t like opera.”

  A tiny smile graced her lips as she sipped at a vodka on the rocks. “I have to admit I wondered at your choice of entertainment, but thought perhaps you knew something about him that I did not.”

  I shrugged. “I thought it would be good for him to be exposed to a little culture. He’s so hidebound and straightlaced, new experiences are bound to broaden his horizons. And besides, this isn’t the entertainment.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. “That comes later.”

  Her smiled increased in brightness. “Are you going to do it?”

  I scooted aside so Daniel and Paula could pass us on their way back to our seats. “I don’t know. I can’t make up my mind. Every time I think I will…well, let’s just say I change my mind.”

  “I’m sure it would mean a lot to him if you did.”

  That was what worried me. “I’ll think about it. I still have the rest of the opera to decide. You’re going to, regardless, aren’t you?”

  She gave me an unfathomable look. “Perhaps.”

  “Isabella, it was because of you that I suggested the whole thing! You can’t back out now!”

  “That’s what you’re talking about doing.”

  “Yeah, but Alex and I aren’t…together anymore. And besides, your costume is better than mine. And you’ve had lots of practice. I just look lumpy.”

  She laughed her silvery laugh and deposited her drink on a table before hooking her hand through my arm. “Come, they’re about to ring the bell, let’s return.” As we squeezed through the door, she leaned her head close to mine and added, “Alix, I don’t know what it is you are doing with this list and plan of yours, but I suspect you will very much regret it if you do not take part in the festivities you have planned for later.”

  I thought of what was coming up and blanched.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She was right. Isabella often is, which is one of the things that most irritates me about her. But I knew she was right, I’d regret not having the balls to stand up and do what I had planned, which is why two and a half hours later I found myself with Isabella and eight other women as we huddled together in the dank, cold, dimly lit backstage area of a very exclusive club (arranged with Daniel’s assistance—never let it be said that I looked a gift horse in the mouth), shivering as I shimmied my way into a skimpy belly dancer’s outfit.

  “I look lumpy,” I snarled as I ho
oked together the top part of the outfit. “Look, my boobs are bulging over the top of this vest thingy. I’ll probably pop out during one of the dances and expose myself to everyone. I just hope you’ll be happy then! I just hope you’ll be able to live with yourself knowing I exposed my breasts to your friends because you refuse to allow me to do my part in a comfy caftan.”

  She gave a laugh that would be a giggle on a lesser person, but as Isabella was too elegant to giggle, the result was light and sparkling rather than silly. “You can’t possibly belly dance in a caftan. Stop being so difficult, Alix! You’ll have a wonderful time.”

  I cast an envious glance over at her slender silver-and-blue-clad body, then grumbled as I tugged the low bodice up a bit higher. It did no good; the weight of my substantial bosomage pulled it back down. I glared at my reflection. “Fleshy. There’s just no other word for it, I look fleshy.”

  “You look lovely and you know it, so you can stop fishing for compliments. I don’t understand why you’re being so coy; Alexander has seen you without your clothing.”

  “Yeah, Alex has, but no one else here has except you and all of the other dancers. I didn’t mind him seeing me naked in the heat of passion, but in the cold light of reason, I’d rather not have all the acres of my skin exposed to view.” I turned around to look at the back view. “Dear God, you can see all of my butt through the skirt! Isabella, look! You can see my butt! I’m not going to go out there and have everyone and his brother get a gander at my bare butt!”

  She looked. “Why aren’t you wearing the panties?”

  “You told me to take them off.”

  “Not the panties you came in with, the ones specially made to go with the outfit. You should be wearing those.”

  I looked in the box that held the outfit I had bought the prior week. There was nothing else in it.

  “Well, hell, they gypped me!” I held up the empty box. “I’m not going out there with my butt visible through this flimsy material!” A horrible thought struck me. If my behind was visible, then…