Page 32 of The Singles Club

I sipped my brandy. “I’d rather not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t do well on dates.”

“You’re doing fine now.”

“Because this isn’t a date.”

She swirled the wine in her glass. “I can help you with that.”

“What I find fascinating is why a woman who says she doesn’t believe in love wants to help me find it… or maybe it’s you who is the romantic at heart?”

Her finger traced the rim of her glass as she smiled. “It’s a challenge… and as you know, I like a challenge. Think of it as having your own personal dating coach.”

“I’ll think about it… if you promise to drop this conversation for the rest of our pretend date.”

She sipped her wine as if I had told her yes. “Agreed.”

The food came, and Vivian had ordered mussels in white wine sauce, and I had to have the chicken saltimbocca. And it was better than I remembered.

“You have to try this,” I said.

She looked down at my meal a bit longingly. “I shouldn’t… lots of calories in that.”

“Not something you should be worrying about.”

She pointed toward her face. “You see how round this is? I gain weight, and I start looking like a chipmunk… if I don’t already.”

I didn’t see what she did. Her skin was flawless and looked soft to the touch, and her lips full and inviting. But it was her big brown eyes that stole the show.

“You have the face of a young Gene Tierney. Beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She eyed my saltimbocca. “Okay, maybe just one bite.”

I cut her off a small piece and dipped it in the sauce. I held out the fork, and she guided my hand toward her. Tingles shot up my arms at her touch. Once the chicken entered her mouth, her brows rose in surprise. “That is really good.”

“Want to share it?”

“Do you like mussels?”

“I do.”

“Half of mine for half of yours?”

“Perfect.”

I called over the waiter to bring us extra plates, and we split up our meals. Throughout the rest of the dinner, we talked mostly about classic films and some of our favorites.

“Which Hepburn?” she asked. “Katharine or Audrey?”

“Katharine. She could light up a room on personality alone,” I said. “But style goes to Audrey. Which actor? Jimmy Stewart or Cary Grant?”

“Jimmy Stewart.”

I cocked my head in surprise. “I would’ve pegged you for a Cary Grant girl.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Cary has charisma… although that accent is bizarre… But there’s something very sweet about Jimmy Stewart. He’s genuine, and it came across in any part he played. Not to mention he makes me laugh.”