She smiled and slathered on a thick brogue. What did ye expect from an Irish lass? We love our bonny fiddle music.
What about your Latin half?
Ah, you should see me clog to a rumba.
As soon as she said the words, they both glanced toward her middle, caught each others eyes and laughed. Ariana knew how ridiculous shed look doing any kind of energetic dance.
Maybe Ill leave my clogging shoes on the shelf for a few more weeks. Right now, the twins are doing enough clogging for all of us.
When is your due date? he asked.
The personal question didnt bother Ariana. After all, Grant was her attorney, ready to fight for her support from Benjy. He needed to know these things. And he was a nice guy, a man she instinctively trusted.
Six more weeks. The babies are due right before Thanksgiving. She fidgeted in the seat, turned sideways to face him and pointed to a panel on the dash. Do you mind if I ask you what that is?
GPS. Navigation system.
How does it work?
He pressed a button. Give me your address and Ill show you.
As she quoted the street and number, he tapped in the information. The computer will automatically map the route.
Amazing.
Interesting toy, but I seldom use it.
You never get lost?
He shot her a look. Never.
Ariana suppressed a giggle. Men were so funny about that.
They rode along for a while without talking, the lively music filling the space between them. Outside the tinted windows, the New England autumn was showing off. Bright evening sunshine backlit a glorious display of orange, red and yellow foliage. Ariana breathed in a contented sigh. The radical change of seasons was what she enjoyed most about living in Boston.
Then the car slowed and Ariana looked up to discover they were nowhere near her apartment. A touch of anxiety zipped up her arms. Protectively, she bracketed her belly with both arms.
I thought you never got lost?
Behind the sunglasses, his look was indulgent. We arent lost. Were at a quiet little restaurant that serves great food. You are hungry, arent you?
Yes, but this isnt necessary. I can cook at home. In fact, I have to cook. I promised Roger.
Grant killed the engine and turned in the seat, draping one arm over the steering wheel. His gaze flickered to her stomach. You have a date?
Well, not a real date. Roger lives in my building and I cook for him a couple of nights a week.
Ah. I see. Clearly he didnt. Tell you what. He handed her a cell phone. You call Roger and offer to bring him carry-out instead. Then, well have a pleasant dinner while I gather some more information about your case.
Ariana knew he was only being considerate and he did need more details to effectively represent her, but she was far more accustomed to giving than receiving. Besides, Roger looked forward to their time together. I hate to disappoint him. Hes really a dear man.
Seeing her hesitation, Grant said, Give me his number. Ill call and make certain hes agreeable. Surely hell understand the need for you to meet with your attorney.
She reached for the cell phone with a resigned sigh. Obviously Grant Lawson was a man who liked to have his way. Given the ache in her back and the wobble in her knees, shed go along with his wishes this once. Ill let him know he has carry-out on the way.
That works for me. Turning, he exited the car and came around to her side while she spoke on the phone, then escorted her into the restaurant.
I hope you like Italian. Grant pushed open the door to Gionnis, inhaling the rich spiced air as Ariana preceded him inside. He liked the quaint Italian restaurant snuggled into a space right off the alley where only the locals would find it. Checkered cloths on the tables, a breadboard and knife waiting for the fresh, hot loaf that would appear the moment they sat down, La Boheme playing softly in the background. The old-world atmosphere soothed him after a difficult day. He hoped the place would work its magic for Ariana as well. For all her pretense to the contrary, she was frazzled.
Mmm. This is lovely. Ariana gazed around, and Grant relaxed, pleased that she appreciated his choice.
The hostess showed them to a corner table, and Grant seated Ariana, once more catching the faint scent of gardenias.
She adjusted her chair to accommodate her enlarged stomach, and he marveled at a womans ability to deal with the changes of pregnancy. Physically, financially, emotionally, the total burden of childbearing rested on a single mother, a fact that disturbed his sense of fair play.
This place smells delicious. What do you recommend? she asked, smiling.
Grant noted how full and soft her lips appeared. She had a beautiful smile, brilliant white against her dark complexion. Orthodontia must have cost her family a fortune.
He opened his menu. If you like Italian, there are no bad choices. Im having linguini with pesto sauce.
That sounds good. Ill have that, too.
And antipasto. You need the vegetables.
Closing her menu with a soft wap, she tilted her head appraisingly. Are you always so bossy?
He smiled, liking the way her hazel eyes flashed. Yes.