Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(33)

“My f irst knitting class went well,” Phoebe said, trying to steer the conversation away from the Snowdens.

Her mother’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you were learning to knit.”

“Well, relearning…” Phoebe had forgotten that she’d decided to keep it a secret. “I needed something…” She left the rest unsaid. Her mother had to know how lost and lonely she must feel without Clark in her life.

Leanne sipped her wine. “Max recommended this Sauvignon Blanc. It’s from New Zealand and it has a nice, crisp citrus f lavor. You really must try it sometime.”

Phoebe sighed. She genuinely liked Clark’s father. He had a wonderful wit and charm. After Clark’s f irst “indiscretion,” Max was the one who’d come to talk to her, to plead his son’s case. Although he was as disgusted and shocked as Phoebe had been, he’d asked her to give Clark one last chance. To his credit, Max hadn’t contacted her since she’d returned Clark’s engagement ring. She suspected he wouldn’t.

“Is Clark’s family going to be part of every conversation?”

Phoebe asked, struggling to keep her voice even.

“Oh, my, I did it again, didn’t I?” Her mother at least looked regretful.

How sincere her apology was, Phoebe couldn’t tell. “Mom, you don’t need to tell me how hard this is on you. I know, because it’s even more diff icult for me.” Her mother seemed to conveniently forget that.

“Of course it is. Forgive me for being so thoughtless, sweetie.”

Phoebe stared out the window and tried to force her thoughts away from Clark. It was practically impossible with Leanne dragging his parents’ names into every topic imaginable. She’d known that, but she’d still come to lunch. As much as she despised her own weakness, Phoebe was eager for news. And yet she had to stop this, stop giving in to—

“Leanne, Phoebe, how delightful to see you here.”

As if the mere thought of her ex-f iancé was enough to conjure him up, Clark appeared out of nowhere. Before she could object, he slid into the booth beside Phoebe, trapping her there. Phoebe stiffened and refused to glance in his direction.

“Clark!” Her mother feigned surprise and frankly did a poor job of it. “What are you doing here?”

“I was meeting a client for lunch, but he cancelled at the last minute. I was about to leave when I saw the two of you sitting here. I hope you don’t mind if I join you?”

How smoothly he lied, how easily the words rolled off his tongue, but Phoebe wasn’t fooled. She knew this was a setup.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said f latly.

“Phoebe, please, what will it hurt to have lunch with me?” he asked. He sounded so calm and reasonable that for a moment she was tempted to agree.

“It’ll hurt a great deal, I’m afraid. Please go.”

“Where are your manners?” her mother chastised.

Phoebe turned to face Leanne and didn’t bother to disguise the betrayal she felt. “You arranged this. My own mother! I can’t believe it.”

“Don’t get upset with your mother. This is my fault,” Clark said softly. “I’m the one who put her up to it. I was desperate to talk to you and this seemed the only way.”

“All I ask,” her mother pleaded, “is that you hear Clark out. If you’d listen, you might understand that the whole thing was police entrapment.”

As far as Phoebe was concerned, how it happened was of no relevance. That it happened was everything. Still, she knew arguing would do no good. Clark was a master manipulator. He could turn the tables so quickly that it made her head spin. It was pointless to argue with him—a losing proposition. Clark reached for her hand and while she wanted to resist, she didn’t.

“I’ve missed you, baby,” he said, his voice low and seductive. Phoebe could almost feel her resolve melting. For her own peace of mind, she refused to look at him, refused to make eye contact. Once she did, she’d be lost….

The waiter scurried over with a menu, which he handed Clark, who gave it a perfunctory glance and quickly placed his order for a rare sirloin steak. Leave it to Clark to order steak in one of the f inest seafood restaurants on the west coast. He always seemed to take the contrary view, always stood apart. He waited until the server was gone before he returned his attention to Phoebe. His thumb gently rubbed the top of her hand in a manner that was almost sexual. Phoebe jerked it away, staring at the dark, swirling waters of Puget Sound.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Clark told her, with Leanne listening avidly. “You have every right to be angry. If our situations were reversed, I can imagine how I’d feel.”

“Really?” she couldn’t resist asking. “If I were to pay for sex, that would bother you?”

He blinked as if he found the thought completely discordant.

“But why should it?” she went on. “It doesn’t mean anything, does it? It’s just…something people do and it really doesn’t affect our relationship. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I did, but I was wrong.”

“You were wrong twice—that I know of.”

He exhaled slowly. “Some of us are slow learners. But it’ll never happen again. I swear by everything I hold dear.”