License to Love by Barbara Boswell

much left over for anything else.” Which wasn’t entirely true, she knew, but it was an acceptable excuse, one she used so often she was almost beginning to believe it herself.
    “A good deal of my work is socializing,” said Steve. He launched into his familiar spiel, the one he’d crafted for the frequent question, What exactly do lobbyists do?—even though Michelle hadn’t asked it.
    “Lobbyists go to fund-raisers, parties, luncheons, and dinners on behalf of charities, cultural groups, political action committees and campaigns. You name it and we’re there, wherever the state legislators are. The name of the game is access. Even the appearance of access is a large part of the exercise.”
    It sounded like a hellish existence to Michelle. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
    “Tired of going out?” Steve was flabbergasted by such a radical notion. “Never! I can’t think of the last time I spent an evening alone, sitting around my apartment. Hmm, maybe when I had the flu five years ago. I had to vegetate in front of the tube for three nights and I thought I’d go nuts. No, I love the night life. There isn’t enough of it for me in Harrisburg so I drive into Philadelphia or Washington or New York City for ball games or parties or shows. I have friends there and—”
    “Your social life spans four cities?” Michelle interrupted, awed. “And you have women that you date in each city?” Did they greet him by crawling all over him and panting with delight. In four different cities?
    A four-city social world. She could hardly take it in. Pride kept her from admitting to him that the span of her social life barely included the city limits of Harrisburg. But she had no trouble admitting to herself that this was her first and last date with Steve Saraceni. Even if he did manage to find time to sandwich her in between everybody else, everywhere else what was the point? In the annals of dating, he’d achievet world-class status while she—didn’t even qualify as a footnote!
    There were too mismatched, too far apart, and not only geographically.
    “I have friends in those particular cities,” Steve reiterated. Looking across the table at Michelle, he could almost feel her withdrawal. “That doesn’t necessarily mean, uh, women I date,” he added expediently.
    But of course, it did, and they both knew it. He’d made a serious miscalculation in revealing the extent of his peripatetic social life, Steve realized ruefully. Michelle hadn’ been impressed as his dates usually were. She was appalled
    Her expression, her tone of voice, her entire response reminded him of his sister Jamie’s reaction to his rollicking tales of adventure. Terrific, he thought grimly. Until he’d met Michelle, his intransigent little sister had been the one person in the world he couldn’t charm, the one person in the universe who didn’t look upon him with favor and indulgence. Now, it seemed, there were two of them—Jamie and Michelle.
    Weirdly enough, he’d always secretly wanted Jamie’s approval. Even more unfathomable, he realized that he also wanted Michelle’s. He wanted her to gaze at him the way she’d done earlier. He remembered the warmth in her smile when they’d talked about his grandmother and wanted to see it again.
    He tried, he really tried. Since Michelle had reacted favorably to his grandmother, he reintroduced her as a topic, shamelessly recounting a plethora of Grandma-and-Steve stories.
    Michelle listened politely, but remained aloof, untouched and uninvolved. And stayed that way for the rest of the meal. And though Steve was at his amusing, charming best, though he radiated what had heretofore been fail-safe appeal, she remained impervious to it, to him.
    It wasn’t easy for her. Only a stone could stay unmelted by those warm dark eyes of his, Michelle mused grimly, and so she concentrated on being one. She had to work hard at maintaining a cool smile when she wanted to laugh out loud at his