next. Let’s give our daughter a decent twenty-first birthday.”
“We can both have nice parties for her—”
“One good one instead.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Where are we going now?” she asked him.
“The Oyster Bar?” he said, but there was a question in his voice. If she didn’t like his suggestion of a place, he would be ready to change it.
“Fine.”
“Will you come down?”
“For how long?”
“Say, a week at least?”
She shook her head, suddenly very curious as she watched him. “I just don’t understand this. Does Miss April Pin-Up Queen know that you’re in New York entreating your ex-wife to come to a party?”
A very slow smile curved his lips. “You are referring to Tara?”
“I am.”
“She was never Miss April—or a pin-up of any kind.”
“Sorry. Tacky thing for me to say. But does she know you’re here.”
“Yes.”
“Jordan, this makes no sense.”
He leaned forward suddenly. “You work too hard, you spend your life with your nose in manuscripts, you never take vacations—”
“And how would you know?”
“Your daughters tell me.”
She lowered her head, flushing, frustrated. Great. Alex and Bren had led their father to believe that she had dived straight into books—given up on life completely. It was humiliating. Especially when he was dating a young woman who could easily have been Miss April or any other kind of pin-up.
“Jordan, I like my job. It’s rewarding. I work with fantastic authors—”
“I’m aware of that. You’ve got quite a distinguished roster, from what I’ve heard.” He looked slightly puzzled, shaking his head. “In fact, I was expecting...”
“What?”
He shrugged. “Never mind.”
“No, what? Tell me what you were about to say.”
He shook his head, lifting his hands in a typical Jordan gesture she knew very well. “I guess I had thought to find you with someone... more... dignified. A professor, a great literary talent, an older man maybe. You just never seemed to be the type for...”
“For?” she questioned curiously.
“Your young muscleman. All brawn, not much between the ears.”
She stared at him, startled. He didn’t sound insulting, just surprised and even a bit concerned.
She smiled around clenched teeth. Great. Just what she wanted. His concern. “You haven’t had a chance to get to know Jeremy very well. He is one of the nicest human beings I’ve ever met. And you’re mistaken. He has a lot between the ears. He’s an avid opera buff, knows art backward and forward, loves the theater, and gives me wonderful opinions on all sorts of reading materials.”
Shadows danced around the inside of the limo. She couldn’t see his eyes, and she didn’t have the least idea of what he was thinking.
“Well then, I do apologize,” he told her. There was a slight strain in his voice as he added, “It’s just that your muscleman is a bit young.”
“And Miss April isn’t?”
He didn’t reply but leaned forward, suddenly taking both of her hands. “He’s invited. And if you say he’s a good guy, then he must be. You’ve...always been a good judge of people. Well, almost always. And I didn’t come here to try to destroy the life you’ve created for yourself. It’s been a long time. Our fights should all be in the past. Will you please promise me to come down?”
“Jordan, I—”
The limo came to a halt.
“I don’t know,” Kathy finished.
“Damn,” Jordan muttered.
The driver came around to let them out. Jordan thanked the young man, and helped Kathy out himself. He took her elbow as he led her through the Fifth Avenue entrance to the Plaza Hotel and along the stately corridors to the doorway of the Oyster Bar.
It was late, but a theater crowd had come in, and the place was busy, noisy, and somewhat smoky. Jordan procured them a table in the back, just a little bit away from the din.
Kathy opted for a shrimp cocktail and a second Jack and ginger—maybe not a good idea—and
“We can both have nice parties for her—”
“One good one instead.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Where are we going now?” she asked him.
“The Oyster Bar?” he said, but there was a question in his voice. If she didn’t like his suggestion of a place, he would be ready to change it.
“Fine.”
“Will you come down?”
“For how long?”
“Say, a week at least?”
She shook her head, suddenly very curious as she watched him. “I just don’t understand this. Does Miss April Pin-Up Queen know that you’re in New York entreating your ex-wife to come to a party?”
A very slow smile curved his lips. “You are referring to Tara?”
“I am.”
“She was never Miss April—or a pin-up of any kind.”
“Sorry. Tacky thing for me to say. But does she know you’re here.”
“Yes.”
“Jordan, this makes no sense.”
He leaned forward suddenly. “You work too hard, you spend your life with your nose in manuscripts, you never take vacations—”
“And how would you know?”
“Your daughters tell me.”
She lowered her head, flushing, frustrated. Great. Alex and Bren had led their father to believe that she had dived straight into books—given up on life completely. It was humiliating. Especially when he was dating a young woman who could easily have been Miss April or any other kind of pin-up.
“Jordan, I like my job. It’s rewarding. I work with fantastic authors—”
“I’m aware of that. You’ve got quite a distinguished roster, from what I’ve heard.” He looked slightly puzzled, shaking his head. “In fact, I was expecting...”
“What?”
He shrugged. “Never mind.”
“No, what? Tell me what you were about to say.”
He shook his head, lifting his hands in a typical Jordan gesture she knew very well. “I guess I had thought to find you with someone... more... dignified. A professor, a great literary talent, an older man maybe. You just never seemed to be the type for...”
“For?” she questioned curiously.
“Your young muscleman. All brawn, not much between the ears.”
She stared at him, startled. He didn’t sound insulting, just surprised and even a bit concerned.
She smiled around clenched teeth. Great. Just what she wanted. His concern. “You haven’t had a chance to get to know Jeremy very well. He is one of the nicest human beings I’ve ever met. And you’re mistaken. He has a lot between the ears. He’s an avid opera buff, knows art backward and forward, loves the theater, and gives me wonderful opinions on all sorts of reading materials.”
Shadows danced around the inside of the limo. She couldn’t see his eyes, and she didn’t have the least idea of what he was thinking.
“Well then, I do apologize,” he told her. There was a slight strain in his voice as he added, “It’s just that your muscleman is a bit young.”
“And Miss April isn’t?”
He didn’t reply but leaned forward, suddenly taking both of her hands. “He’s invited. And if you say he’s a good guy, then he must be. You’ve...always been a good judge of people. Well, almost always. And I didn’t come here to try to destroy the life you’ve created for yourself. It’s been a long time. Our fights should all be in the past. Will you please promise me to come down?”
“Jordan, I—”
The limo came to a halt.
“I don’t know,” Kathy finished.
“Damn,” Jordan muttered.
The driver came around to let them out. Jordan thanked the young man, and helped Kathy out himself. He took her elbow as he led her through the Fifth Avenue entrance to the Plaza Hotel and along the stately corridors to the doorway of the Oyster Bar.
It was late, but a theater crowd had come in, and the place was busy, noisy, and somewhat smoky. Jordan procured them a table in the back, just a little bit away from the din.
Kathy opted for a shrimp cocktail and a second Jack and ginger—maybe not a good idea—and
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