Fools Rush In by Gwynne Forster

Author:Gwynne Forster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kimani Press
Published: 1999-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

He had no choice but to take her word for it, so he led her back to the table and waited for a slower number. “It surprised me to learn that you like jazz,” he said, hoping for a topic that would help salvage the evening. “At home, you listen to classical music, especially brother Mozart. How’s that?”

He must have chosen the right words, because he could almost see the tension flow out of her body. “All my jazz is on long playing records, and I’m not going to buy the same thing on CDs. I don’t have a record player, and finding one these days is like collecting hens’ teeth. I wish I could play my records.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Her smile lit up the dark room and made everything around them beautiful, but if he told her that, she’d probably turn around to see who he was talking about. “I love so many of the classical jazz musicians.” Sadness momentarily streaked across her visage. Then, as if brightened by a memory, the sun shone once more from her face. “I could dance all night to Fats Waller’s ‘Ain’t Misbehavin” and Jimmy Lunceford’s ‘Uptown Blues.’ Problem is, all the great ones are gone.”

He didn’t want to change the subject, but he didn’t want her reminiscing, either. Something in her past had nearly wrecked her, and he’d better forestall any reference to it or risk a recurrence of that throwback she’d had moments earlier. “Think you can risk a dance with me?”

Ah, things were back to normal. Her glare let him know that the Justine who never ducked a challenge was once more with him. “What is there about you that would make dancing with you risky?” She pushed back her chair as she said it.

He grinned, and then he laughed; his gaiety was as much a catharsis as jubilance. “If you didn’t find out earlier, I’ll be glad to show you.”

On the floor, she moved with him, accepting every challenge and laughing at him. She stepped back so he could see her toss her head, wink, rotate her hips, and beckon him toward her with her right index finger, and he thanked God for the crowded room.

He pulled her to him and growled, “Keep that up and what you’ll get will be more than a surprise. It’s almost midnight, Cinderella. I’m taking you home.” The smile left her face. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I know what that’s all about, and I’m not having it.”

She shrugged. “But it was a perfect analogy. I’m Cinderella tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll be Tonya’s nanny again.”

He helped her into her coat, paid the bill, and ushered her out into Eighteenth Street’s brisk chill. They barely spoke on the drive home. He drove into the garage, walked around to her side of the car, and opened the door while she was trying to release the seat belt. When he took her hand to help her out, she stumbled into him, but he knew that her clumsiness was due to nerves.

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