Page 40 of Tuxedos and Tinsel

He shifted in his seat so he could look her straight on. “It’s maddening. They won’t even meet with me. It’s as though the world has slotted me into a role and now I’m stuck in it for life. Whether it fits or not.”

“Everyone thinks they know you,” she said in soft voice. She was folding and unfolding her glasses with great thoughtfulness.

“Precisely.” The rush of someone understanding made Lewis want to grab her hands and squeeze them. “Telling them isn’t enough. They need tangible evidence that I am not the same person. That’s where you come in.” Taking a chance, he reached over and laid his hand on her forearm.

In a flash, her hands stilled. Lewis felt the muscles in her arm tense. Slowly—very slowly—her gaze rose to meet his. “How so?”

Before he could answer, their waiter returned. As the man placed her drinks on the table, his eyes flickered to Susan’s arm, which she quickly pulled away. Lewis tried not to smile. “Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked.

So eager had he been to discuss business, neither of them had had a chance to look at the menu. “Not—”

“I’ll have the egg-and-avocado sandwich,” Susan announced. “Is that all right? Or do you need to change my order?”

Man, but she had a bite to her. And here he’d thought last night’s sharpness was from the alcohol. “Sounds perfect. In fact, I’ll have the same. You’re very decisive, for a woman who didn’t have time to study the menu,” he said once the waiter had moved on.”

“I read the item at the top of the page and decided it sounded good. I’m not much for hemming and hawing when there’s a decision to be made.”

“You don’t like to waste your time.”

“Not if I can help it.” She swished her celery-stalk garnish around in the glass and took a crisp bite off its end. “Bringing me back to my question. What are you looking for from me?”

Lewis placed his hands on the table. He thought about covering her arm again, but that might look too forward. This was where actions and word choice mattered. “You might think I’m crazy, but I got the idea from Lorianne’s site. Until now, I’ve been staying out of the public eye, hoping people would realize I’d given up the party life, but it hasn’t been working. People only believe what they see.”

“Or think they see,” she added.

She caught on quick. “Precisely. This morning, I read Lorianne’s ‘Blind Item,’ and I realized I had things backward. Instead of being out of the public eye, I need to do the opposite. I need to be seen as much as possible, only, in the way Iwantto be seen.”

“In other words, you want to create a new tabloid persona. Makes sense. Although I’m not sure where I come in.”

“Well…” This was where the proposition got tricky. “I was hoping you’d be my partner in crime,” he said. “Nothing sayschanged manlike a relationship with someone completely against type. A woman who is the total opposite of all the other women I’ve ever dated. You.”

Susan stared at him, drink hovering just below her lower lip. “Are you trying to get another drink tossed in your face?”

“Wait.” She’d set her drink down and was gathering her things. “Hear me out.”

“I already heard you. You spent your sporting career dating beautiful women. Now, to prove you’ve changed, you want to date someone who isn’t beautiful and that someone is me.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Really?” She cocked her head. “What did I miss?”

“Yes, I dated a lot of beautiful women, but…” He threw up his hands in case the noise she’d made was the precursor to a drink toss. “They were just good-time girls.”

“The kind of girls whose name you forget.”

“Right. I mean, no. You should never, ever forget a lover’s name.” He could almost hear the thin ice cracking beneath him with each sentence. So much for making sure his words mattered.

“You’re smart,” he rushed on. “You own a respected business. Doesn’t Collier’s Soap have the queen’s blessing?”

“We have a Royal Warrant, yes.”

“See? You’re someone society takes seriously. No one would expect to see you involved with a party boy like me. So if youwereinvolved…”

“They would assume you must not be the empty-headed wild man anymore.”

Forgetting about overstepping, he clasped her hand in his. “That’s it exactly.”

Her fingers were cold and damp from her glass. Lewis pressed his hands tight to warm them. “And it’s not as though you’re unattractive,” he added.