A Man for All Seasons (8 page)

“Jason who?”

“Jason from the auction,” he reminded her impatiently.

“There are two Jasons.”

“Partridge in a pear tree Jason.”

“Oh, the fireman. He's a member of a local wine club. They meet here once a month.”

“And?”

“And what?”

He heard clanking in the background. “Is that all you know? Marlie is going to spend an evening with him!”

“Oh, you're so protective, Tyler. Marlie is a big girl. These tablecloths haven't been replaced from lunch service yet,” she said to someone.

Then he heard somebody call out, “Axelle!”

He heard an exasperated sigh. “Our sommelier knows him and he's single, I think.”

“You
think
he's single?”

“Tyler, it is a dinner, not a life-long commitment, eh?”

She sounded harried, which actually was good. Saturday was Ravigote's busy day and usually Ty avoided calling her. But it was three o'clock, dinner service hadn't started and lunch had ended at two. Tyler backed off. She was right. It
was just dinner. “You sound busy. Have reservations increased since the auction last night?”

“Some,” she said vaguely.

She didn't have time to chat. He got the message. But he didn't like it. “I'll let you get back to work,” he said. “I'll call you after eleven.”

“Oh, Ty, I'm much too tired after last night! I could sleep for a week.”

Alone, Ty heard. It wasn't as though he
expected
anything in return for his generosity. He
anticipated.
That was different. It would be bad if he didn't look forward to being alone with her.

Disappointed, he considered the irony of being all alone in the house on a Saturday night while Marlie went out on the town.

 

T
YLER HAD JUST SETTLED
himself on the couch with a sandwich and beer to watch a football game when he heard Marlie thumping down the stairs. Her date wasn't due for another twenty minutes, but it sounded as though she was already panicked.

Of course she was. Not only hadn't she been on a date in forever, she hadn't been around humans much at all lately, either. Ty schooled his face and prepared to tell her she looked great. Anybody who had spent as much time getting ready as she had deserved to be told she looked great.

“Ty!” she called from the stairs. “I can't decide what to wear. I want you to give me your opinion. And I need you to be honest.”

Oh, right. Like he was going to fall for that. He muted the pre-game chatter. “Just wear the outfit that makes you feel the most comf—”

The air left his lungs. He blinked and then he blinked again.

Short. Tight. Red. Blond. Boobs. The images struck him fast and hard. And not necessarily in that order.

Curves. Skin. Legs. Hair.

Secondary impressions were slower as he began to notice more detail.

Lush curves. Pale skin. Shapely legs.

And blond hair. A gleaming, straight waterfall of streaky blond.

Wide, thick-lashed, bambi-brown eyes stared at him. Shiny, crimson lips moved.

Desire flooded his senses, different than his usual intellectually-controlled desire for tall, thin, sleek brunettes.

His body was now in the driver's seat, hooting and hollering for a blond, curvy Jessica Rabbit.

“Ty?”

“Marlie?” The hooting and hollering stopped.

He stared. He didn't know if she stared back because he wasn't looking at her eyes.

“Yeah.” She touched her hair. “It was color day at the beauty school. The instructor was showing how lighter layers around the face gives the impression of blonder hair without lifting the color all over. And then he added darker pieces to contour my face and medium streaks for depth…and I'm babbling. I look stupid, don't I?”

Not. At. All. Ty drew air into his lungs because it had been a while since he'd taken a breath. Spots peppered his vision.

Marlie misinterpreted his hesitation. “I knew it. It's too much. Both the hair and…” She gestured down her body. “I haven't had this dress on since I bought it. It's a little snug, but I thought I could get away with it. I'll change.” She whirled around and started up the stairs, the rear view as spectacular as the front. There was no evidence that she spent her days sitting.

“No,” Ty managed to get out, but his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat. “No!”

But she was gone.

He stared at the spot where she'd stood, an homage to Jessica Rabbit.

Marlie.

She…she… He'd had no idea she'd been hiding a body like that. And
how
had she been hiding it? Shapeless sweats, sure, but he'd seen her in sleeveless tops, too.

No wonder he'd enjoyed last night's hug.

And her hair… How could the puff-ball ponytail and the blond goddess locks grow on the same head? On
Marlie's
head.

Even though it was
Marlie,
desire warmed him and he was too stunned to fight it.

This was not good. It was not cool to lust after his housemate. She was like the appliances. She came with the place.

Whatever she'd done to herself, Ty was certain Axelle had not been involved. Right, Axelle.
Remember
Axelle. Remember her in the silver dress that left her bronzed back bare.

Ty breathed easier.
Do not think of Marlie's curves or the pillowy mounds above her neckline.
Do not think of her hair waving low over one eye in a way that invited him to brush it back and then, as long as he was in the vicinity, dip down and sample her cherry-red lips.

Ty shook his head and reminded himself that cherry-red lips meant lipstick all over his mouth. He hated that. He didn't care how luscious and pouty they looked or how white her teeth—

“Is this better?” Marlie stepped into view.

Black dress, V-neck, no sleeves. Longer. Looser.

She was still blond, of course, and the neckline was deep
enough to be interesting without giving away the store. Still sexy, but with the volume turned down.

Her fingers plucked nervously at the neckline as she waited for him to say something.

This was going to be tricky. He could throw out a casual, “You look great. I like the hair” and turn back to the TV.

Only he'd been staring at her too long to pull off casual. And she deserved much better.

“You look phenomenal.”

 

“I
S THAT GOOD
?” M
ARLIE
asked. “Because phenomenal could go either way. And you didn't say anything about the red dress.”

Ty's mouth worked. “The red dress was stunning.”

“Again, not helpful.”

“I was stunned.”

When Marlie had seen herself in the mirror, she'd been stunned, as well, but she was still getting over the blondness of her hair. Talk about heavily streaked.

After trying several salons without luck, one had suggested the beauty school. They'd been thrilled to tackle the special challenge of her curly hair, and after the cut went well, she'd been talked into the color.

There had been eight students in the class and they'd each taken a turn, laboriously selecting pieces of hair, painting on goop from the bowl and wrapping the strand in foil. The instructor told her the differences between the students would make her streaks look more natural. Marlie told him natural wasn't working for her. That's why she was there.

Afterward, one side of her head was blonder than the other, so he gave her a choice of toning up one side or lowlighting the other. Marlie was feeling reckless and so here she was with more of her hair streaked than not streaked.

She was not going to think about roots until after Christmas.

After her beauty school adventure, she'd come home and put on the red dress, thinking red was a seasonal color. But while the dress, a bandage-type one that people were still wearing, was meant to fit close to the body, Marlie had more body for it to fit close to than when she'd bought it for her honeymoon.

There was a fine line between eyebrow-raising sexy and slutty. And with the hair, Marlie just couldn't tell. So she'd asked Ty.

Even after she'd given him time to adjust to the hair, Ty's face told her what she needed to know. There was shock, but no awe.

She figured her go-to little black dress would be a safe choice. But she hadn't gone to her LBD in a while and the neckline gapped more than she remembered. Maybe it wasn't so safe anymore because Ty's expression told her he was struggling to find the right words.

The right words were probably “change into jeans” or “Drive to the drugstore and buy a box of brown hair dye.”

Well, she had no choice. The Flaming Pear was a nice restaurant, so it was either this dress or the red one.

“Forget it,” she told Ty. “I'm going to put on my shoes.”

“You look hot,” he said quietly.

She fanned her face. “It's all the running up and down the stairs.”

“Marlie.” His lips curved slowly. “You look
hot.
In this dress, you look icy hot. In the red one, you look smokin' hot.”

“Oh.” He thought she looked hot.
Smokin'
hot. Nobody had ever told her she looked smokin' hot before. She'd received compliments, sure, but hot hadn't been one. She studied his face to make sure he was serious. “When you didn't say anything, I thought—”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “What I was
thinking was ‘holy mother of
God,
where has she been hiding that body?'. But I didn't want to scare you.”

That,
she believed. “You wouldn't have scared me.”

“I didn't tell you everything I was thinking.” His expression was lightly amused, but his eyes told her he was still thinking those thoughts.

He thought she was hot. He liked the way she looked.

But there was no way he was going to get up from the sofa, kiss her senseless, and carry her up the stairs and ravish her.

No matter how much she wanted him to. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy knowing he finally saw her as an attractive woman.

“By the way—the hair.” He gave her a double thumbs up. “It officially lands you in babe territory.”

Marlie grinned, pleased. “I've never been a babe before.”

“You've always been a babe.” Ty tossed the remote onto the table, oblivious that his football game had started. “You just haven't been operating in babe mode.”

That was generous of him, Marlie thought.

“Which is why you should work up to the red dress,” he told her.

Marlie laughed.

“I'm serious,” Ty said. “That dress is a babe-in-a-crowd dress. It shouts, ‘Attention! Babe entering the room!' That's the dress you wear when you want men to acknowledge your babeness. It's not the dress you wear to dinner on a first date with a stranger.”

“He's not a stranger!”

“He's a wino.”

“Ty!” Marlie laughed. “He's a member of a
wine
club. He's already selected the wines for each course tonight.”

“Wines plural? If either of you drinks more than two glasses, I want you to call me. I will come and get you.”

“Yes, Dad.” She paused. “Isn't Axelle coming over tonight?”

“No,” he said. The doorbell rang, not giving Marlie a chance to ask why. “I'll answer the door,” Ty said. “You will put on your shoes and make an entrance.”

He was acting like a protective big brother, Marlie thought as she climbed the stairs.

Too bad she couldn't think of him that way.

T
Y TOOK SEVERAL DEEP
breaths
,
just to clear his mind. And because his first impulse was to lock Marlie in her room until her bushy ponytail grew back. The world wasn't ready for a blond Marlie
and
the dresses
and
the body. Maybe the frizzy ponytail and the body. Or baggy clothes and the hair. But all of it together?

He heard a knock and headed downstairs.
All right, let's check this guy out,
Ty thought as he opened the door. If he sensed one wonky vibe, the fireman was toast.

A shorter, but more muscular version of himself took one look at Ty's face and stepped back to check the house number.

Ty relaxed his expression. “Are you Jason?” Of course he was Jason.
I'd like to see the partridge in his pear tree,
Marlie had said.

Well, Tyler was here to make sure that didn't happen.

Jason smiled. Ty recognized the smile immediately. It was the patented, “Your daughter is safe with me, sir” smile, perfected by certain young men. Ty had once been one of those young men. He was not fooled by the smile.

“Yes, I'm Jason Fairgood, here for Marlie Waters.”

The guy had dimples and knew how to use them. Ty hoped
Marlie was smarter than to fall for a set of dimples, but who knew what condition her brain was in after all that bleach.

They shook hands as Ty said, “Tyler Burton, Marlie's roommate.” He held the door open.

“You're the guy who bought our dating package.” Jason hesitated. “Okay, man to man—she's a bow wow, right?”

Tyler almost wished he'd told Marlie to wear the red dress. “Depends on your type.”

“Ah. Great personality. Say no more.”

“Actually, I will say more.” Ty stepped into Jason Fairgood's personal space. “You will show her a good time and you will be respectful, got it? Because if I hear otherwise, I will make sure everyone else hears otherwise, too, starting with the reporter who interviewed me last night.”

“Ty? Are you threatening my date?” Marlie stood at the top of the stairs, flashing a lot of leg before slowly picking her way down the steps. She wore a pair of killer black sandals with little straps and really high heels. Her toenails were red. Well, he
had
told her to make an entrance.

Tyler was mesmerized by the pale feet and the straps and the red toes and imagined a woman wearing the shoes and nothing else in bed.

“Noooo problem on showing her a good time,” Jason murmured and Ty knew he was thinking the same thing. Only, in this case, the woman was Marlie.

“When I said ‘good', I meant ‘cordial' and ‘pleasant',” Ty stressed.

“I can do better than that,” Jason said.

Ty did not want him doing better than that.

When Marlie safely made it all the way to the bottom of the stairs and they were all breathing somewhat normally again, Jason stepped forward, showing his dimples. “Hi. I'm Jason.”

“Marlie.” She twinkled up at him. When had she ever
twinkled? Ty had never seen her twinkle. Maybe it was the hair.

“We're going to have a
great
time,” Jason said, with enthusiastic sincerity and a slightly dazed expression.

What happened to cordial and pleasant? Tyler was relieved Marlie wasn't wearing the red dress. He might have to hide the red dress.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I've got something for you.” Jason pulled a long narrow box from the inside pocket of his sports coat.

“Thank you.” Marlie looked thrilled. Inside the box was a charm bracelet, which Ty knew only because Marlie exclaimed, “The charm bracelet!” She held it up and examined the single charm already attached.

“It's a pear,” Jason told her. “For Partridge in a Pear Tree. Giving a charm for each date was my idea—well, my sister's idea, but everyone went for it.”

“Oh, that's so sweet!” Marlie said, while Ty thought,
lame and corny.

“Ty, did you see?” She dangled it in front of him.

“Very cute. Shall I—” help you put it on, was what he was going to say, but another man's fingers beat him to it.

Ty watched Jason stand close and fasten the bracelet around Marlie's wrist. Their heads were nearly touching. Tyler scowled.

Jason and Marlie smiled at each other.

Tyler scowled even more. “Have a
pleasant
evening you two,” he said, hating the way he sounded.

“We will,” Marlie said with a look over her shoulder that unnerved him. “Don't wait up.”

 

“W
HAT'S THE DEAL
with you and the guy you live with?” Jason asked after they'd ordered.

Actually Jason had ordered, or rather strongly suggested,
the dishes that would work best with the wines he'd selected. Marlie didn't mind. She didn't know that much about wines and this was a good opportunity to learn.

“Our parents are friends,” she answered. “And we saw each other a lot growing up.”

“And you never…?” He raised his brows.

Marlie shook her head. “He's only renting a room from me until his house is finished.”

“Oh, okay. 'Cause I thought I sensed a little something going on there.”

Maybe her wishful thinking. “No,” Marlie said. “I'm free and clear.”

Jason leaned forward and gave her a sleepy-eyed look. “Now, why is that?”

I'd forgotten about flirting.
Marlie leaned forward, too, and watched Jason's sleepy eyes dip to her neckline. “Broken engagement. Buried myself in work.”

“Well, tonight, you're going to eat, drink, and be Marlie!” He grinned. “Did you catch what I did there?”

“Yes. When is the wine coming?” Marlie asked, thinking he might have sounded funnier if she'd already had a glass.

“Right now.”

And, indeed, a waiter was bringing out an ice bucket.

Good timing,
Marlie thought, wondering when Jason was going to live up to the promise of his picture.

Jason waved the wine steward away. “I asked for the wine to be chilled to the proper temperature. We don't want it blooming too quickly.”

Marlie didn't know wine bloomed.

Another server brought a plate of pâté and a bread tray from which Marlie was to choose. She indicated an herbed bread, but Jason shook his head. “She doesn't want that one.”

“Yes, she does,” Marlie said.

“It'll interfere with the wine. We'll have unsalted crackers.”

Marlie sniffed the tantalizing scent of rosemary and garlic as the bread basket was whisked away. “The wine had better be worth it, because that bread was still warm.”

Jason poured himself a tiny bit of wine. “That's so refreshing that you eat bread.” He stuck his nose into his glass.

“Warm and crusty herb bread is worth eating.” Marlie watched the retreating waiter because she didn't want to watch Jason. “Unsalted crackers, not so much.”

Jason took a sip and held it in his mouth before swallowing. “With a wine this playful, you'll forget all about the bread.”

There was something off about that sentence, but Jason was now filling her glass and she didn't want to distract him by asking what he meant. Gratefully, she took a large sip.

“No!”

Marlie jumped and splashed her hand.

“You don't chug it!” Jason lowered his voice. “You savor it.”

“I was savoring it. I savor quickly.” Marlie dabbed at her hand.

“But you must roll the wine over your tongue so that the sweet, salty, and bitter taste sensors have time to detect the flavors. And then you experience the finish. So many people crowd the finish because they're already drinking again.”

Marlie stared at the half-glass remaining of her slightly sour white wine. She was ready to experience a finish right now and it wasn't the wine's. She dutifully sampled the wine as instructed—still slightly sour—and told herself to give the date more than thirty minutes before writing Jason off. She was rusty and he was making an effort and giving up his time and money for charity. She needed to hold up her end. “So you're a fireman.”

“It's a good thing, too. If you were any hotter, you'd burst
into flames.” Jason smiled slowly, allowing his dimples to crease.

Seriously? Marlie polished off the rest of her glass of wine. “I think it's too early for that line.”

Jason straightened, shaking his head. “I knew I should have gone with the ‘you're smokin” one.”

Marlie laughed. She'd been called smokin' twice in one night. How amazing was that? Jason laughed, too, and after that, she began to enjoy herself. Earlier, he'd come off as arrogantly controlling, but once Marlie relaxed, she realized how much planning and care he'd put into the food and wine pairings, even consulting the chef about the seasonings used in the dishes.

“The guys at the station give me a lot of grief over my hobby,” he told her. “I guess I go into lecture mode.” And he smiled so charmingly that Marlie didn't mind hearing about grapes and soil and weather and regions and vintages and the cork versus screw top controversy.

Then there was the way he looked at her. Interested. Focused. Attracted. She'd wanted a man to look at her exactly like that and now Jason was doing it. She was flattered and self-aware and caught herself making little gestures and watching as his eyes followed her movements like a cat does before it pounces.

But, much as she enjoyed herself, Marlie didn't want to be pounced on by Jason. Nor was she inclined to do any pouncing herself. Pity. He was certainly good looking.

He's no Ty,
came the thought. However, Marlie had anticipated the thought and was able to squash it, mainly because the restaurant lights suddenly dimmed.

A violinist playing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” led a parade consisting of two chefs, two waiters, and the wine steward bearing a platter which they set in the middle of the table.

Marlie stared at a brown pyramid with rosemary twigs stuck in it. And…a bird stared back at her. “Partridge in a Pear Tree?” she guessed, mainly because the violinist had finished and everyone in the entire restaurant was staring at her, waiting for her to say something.

“Yes!” Jason grinned. The chefs beamed. The violinist played a flourish. The other diners applauded. Cameras flashed.

A bright beam of light made her blink as a disembodied voice said, “Alicia Hartson here with Marlie Waters as she begins her Twelve Dates of Christmas with a Partridge in a Pear Tree. Marlie, what do you think of your dinner?”

She hadn't tasted it yet, but talk about a rhetorical question. “It…looks phenomenal.” The microphone was still in her face. “The bird head is so life-like. Just stunning.”

“Standing with me are the two chefs responsible for this special holiday creation.” Alicia turned to interview them. The cameraman went in for a close up of the platter, blocking Marlie's view of Jason.

“We roasted pears and used rosemary for the branches,” she heard.

The tree was cute. Cranberries looked like ornaments among the branches. Very clever. Little swirls of lemon and orange peel dangled from the rosemary. And then, of course, there was the bird staring at her.

“Take a look at the partridge.” Alicia gestured to the cameraman. “Can we get a close-up? Is the head and tail edible?”

“Of course,” one of the chefs replied. “We used jicama, carrots, and beet juice. Then we attached the head and tail to the roasted partridge breast.”

An actual partridge? She was going to eat partridge?

Alicia went over to Jason's side of the table as the waiters dismantled the tree and served two plates. “Jason, this is
spectacular. The rest of the men making up the twelve dates are going to find you a tough act to follow.”

Jason flashed the dimples at her. “I'm always a tough act to follow.”

Alicia gave a professionally-amused laugh and turned to Marlie. “So how does it taste, Marlie?”

Marlie stared down at her plate, brilliantly lit by the camera's glare. The waiters had made a nest of rosemary and sliced pear and settled the partridge in it. Jason's plate just had the breast part. “It's too pretty to eat!” She smiled, hoping they wouldn't make her eat on camera.

But no.

“Here, let me.” One of the chefs moved forward and decapitated Marlie's partridge.

She flinched. There was a short silence.

“Jason, tell me, will there be a second date?” Alicia asked, diverting attention from the carnage. The camera swung away.

“Well…” Jason stalled and looked Marlie's way.

The chef hovered. “I've got it,” Marlie said when it appeared as though he was going to cut a bite and feed her himself.

She quickly cut a sliver of meat, irritated that Jason hadn't answered Alicia. Come on. It wasn't a real question. They were acting here. The mentor program would get a plug, the restaurant would get a plug, and Marlie was going to say that the food was the best she'd ever eaten no matter what it actually tasted like. All Jason had to do was express interest in a second date. It made for a feel-good news story.

She hoped this wasn't being broadcast live. She hoped Alicia would edit out the decapitation and Jason's lingering hesitation. But that meant they had to fill the gap with Marlie's reaction to the food.

She popped the bite into her mouth, determined to give
them plenty of footage. “Mmm.” Good thing it actually tasted decent. Cold, but good. She nodded, swallowed, and said, “It's fabulous. The meat is nice and juicy. Sooo good.” She cut more, this time with a little bit of pear, put it in her mouth and closed her eyes. “Mmm.” She dropped her head back, and, because she still felt the heat of the camera light, added a few more “mmms” as she chewed, exaggerating the movements of her mouth.

“Definitely a second date,” Jason said.