On Second Thought(64)

“What about you, Jonathan?” Carly asked, leaning forward to flash a few inches of cleavage. “Last week, you said... How did you put it? There was someone you thought you had feelings for, remember? But it was difficult?”

Thought he had feelings for. The man was Mr. Spock. What are these emotions I’m experiencing? Let me do a brain scan and analyze the results. I bet it was the woman he’d been with on that date. She’d seemed nice. Nicer than he was.

“I’d rather not discuss it,” he said. “Ainsley is my employee, and I’m not comfortable sharing details of my personal life with her.”

“But she’s so nice,” Marley said. Aw. “Maybe she could help you. And Dr. Lovely is her mother.”

“Well, stepmother,” I said. “Jonathan knows her, too. She writes for his magazine.”

“Of course, of course.”

I shifted to see my boss better. “I am pretty good with that kind of thing. Maybe I could help you.”

“You couldn’t.”

“I bet I could.”

“While I admire your confidence, no, thank you.”

“I see. You’re chicken.”

He sighed. “No, Ainsley, it’s not that. It’s that I have two children to consider.”

“I use that excuse, too,” Henry said.

“And second, I don’t think you’re in a position to offer relationship advice. Forgive me if that sounded rude.”

“It is rude. Just own it,” I said. “Was it that woman from Le Monde? Points to you for taking her somewhere nice.”

“So you’ve already been on a date with her?” Marley said. “What about a second date? Is that when people typically have sex?”

He closed his eyes. “As I said, I’m not comfortable discuss—”

“Send flowers,” Carly suggested. “Every woman loves flowers.”

“Nah,” I said. “That’s for later in the relationship. First he has to show her he has what she wants. What all women want.”

“A lot of money?” Carly suggested.

“No, no. Though it never hurts.”

“And what do all women want, in your vast experience?” Jonathan said.

“Honesty.” I sat back, proud of the answer.

“Oh, good one,” Carly said. “My ex had an entire apartment in Manhattan I didn’t even know about. But since we’re a fifty-fifty state, he had to buy me out, so I got the girls done—” she pointed proudly to her bosom, which was big enough to hold a generous plate of pasta “—had a little refreshing done and took my sisters to France for a month. Oh, that made him mad!” She smiled fondly.

“Sense of humor is another one,” I said. Poor Jonathan. I might as well have said grow sparkly wings. “Being open to new things.” Pause for laughter. “And kindness, that’s the most important.”

Trying to save Nathan’s life...that had been kind. Or a reflex. But he’d stayed at the hospital. That had been very decent of him.

“It’s the little things,” I went on. “Holding doors and such. Let her talk and pretend to pay attention.”

“Pretend? That’s your advice? How fascinating.”

“See?” I said. “You’re doing it already.”

“I still say you can’t go wrong with flowers,” Carly said. “Or just whisk her off to the city for dinner. Shock and awe, razzle and dazzle.”

The others continued with their suggestions. Buy her a puppy, send her secret notes, flirt with her (like he could pull that off).

“I appreciate your suggestions,” he said. “Perhaps we can move on.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you talk like you’re on Downton Abbey?” I asked, smiling at him.

“Not until just now.”

“You do. You have a very formal way of talking.”

He blinked at me, clearly pained.

“I love it,” Marley said. “If you were ten years older, Jon.”

He smiled at her.

Huh. I couldn’t say I’d ever seen him smile before. It was an unexpectedly sweet smile, just a curve of the lips and a slight crinkle to his eyes.

And he was still wearing the suit he wore to work, except his tie was a tiny bit loosened, and...well...he was suddenly...attractive.

“I’d better head off,” he said.

“Would you give me a ride home?” I heard myself ask.

The smile was gone. “Of course.”

“It was great meeting you,” I said, putting down my share of the tab as well as a healthy tip. “Hope to see you again.” They answered in a chorus of goodbyes.

We walked out to Jonathan’s car, a very sleek Jaguar. Maybe the magazine industry wasn’t so bad after all.

He held the door for me. I got the sense that his nanny would beat him with a cane if he didn’t. “So why did you get a divorce, Jonathan?” I asked as he got in.

He didn’t answer for a minute, just pulled carefully onto the street. “I’d rather not discuss it,” he said.

“Okay. Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“I really could coach you on dating, you know,” I said.