The Oldest Virgin in Oakdale by Wendy Warren

Author:Wendy Warren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

It was cool and dim in the restaurant Cole chose for their first dinner date.

Date.

A classical arrangement for strings, fluid and romantic, played softly over well-placed speakers, and on the table a candle flickered hypnotically in a large red candleholder.

In her new clothes Eleanor felt like the strawberry daiquiri melting in the long-stemmed glass in front of her: cool, exotic and oh, so interesting. The feeling of the backs of her bare knees against the cool leather of the captain’s chair…the freedom of her pedicured feet in barely hanging-on sandals was positively delicious. Why hadn’t anybody told her? Long rayon skirts and constricting pantyhose could never compete!

Across from her Cole appeared to be immersed in the broad leather-bound menu, but he raised his gaze above it every so often to peer at her. He seemed bemused.

Earlier, he had pulled out her chair, and as she sat her shoulder, also bare in a sleeveless top, had brushed up against his own bare and marvelously furred forearm. Oh, the sensation! The hairs were surprisingly soft, his skin warm. And then there were his pheromones. As far as Eleanor could tell, Cole wasn’t wearing aftershave, but he smelled just right.

She could spend all evening telling herself this was only dinner and not a date, but it wasn’t true. To her, it was a DATE, capital everything. Even if Cole didn’t realize it.

Reaching for her daiquiri, Eleanor sipped a little of the slushy rum-spiked drink through a tiny straw. Except where Cole was concerned, she had always been a practical, levelheaded person. She drew on those powers now to admit that this was the best she’d ever looked and the most confident she’d ever felt as far as men were concerned. Tonight she was Cinderella at the ball. Without a fairy godmother—or at least a couple of savvy beauty controllers—at her beck and call, she would never be able to recreate the look she had today or, she worried, the feeling.

And Cole wouldn’t be around forever. If their relationship didn’t change tonight, then she owed it to herself to admit once and for all that it never would.

Hearing her name spoken twice, Eleanor emerged from her reverie feeling almost woozy. Cole had lowered his menu and was looking at her. She took another sip of her daiquiri and set it on the table, where the condensation on the glass made a wet ring. Clearing her throat, she said, “Sorry. Did you ask me something?”

“I asked if you know what you want.”

Eleanor nodded. She certainly did.

Cole beckoned a handsomely suited waiter, who hurried over from across the room. “May I take your order?”

Uh-oh. Quickly, Eleanor picked up her menu. “Umm…” The letters were a blur.

To complete her physical transformation this afternoon, she had taken off her glasses. Tonight she was part of a fairy tale. Cinderella did not wear bifocals. Frowning, she focused on the page in front of her. “Let me see…”

“May I make a suggestion?” The offer came from Cole. Because Eleanor was farsighted, Cole’s face was easier to read than the menu.

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