Sidebars Book 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 3Portia was just locking the door to her office as I approached. “I’m glad I didn’t keep you waiting.” Her hand went to the back of her head, as if to ascertain each strand of hair was tucked neatly in place.

“It would have been worth it. You’re lovely.” Was her hair as soft as it looked? I took her elbow and escorted her to the elevator.

“I just…I didn’t do more than freshen my lipstick.”

A shame. I was tempted to kiss it off. I didn’t tell her that, of course. “What kind of food are you in the mood for?”

“Italian?”

“Sounds good. I know a little place in Baltimore, Casa del Vitello. They make an excellent veal saltimbocca.” We exited the building and walked toward my car, a Cadillac supplied by the Company. “It’s a lovely night for a drive.”

It could have been raining and I still would have thought it a lovely night.

I opened the door, handed her into the front seat, then closed the door and took my time going around to the driver’s side, hoping she hadn’t noticed my erection.

The drive to Baltimore took a little more than forty-five minutes, and we spent the time listening to the radio station I had set on the AM dial and chatting about the books we were reading. Her choices were interesting: Exodus, Advise and Consent, The Ugly American, while mine went in a slightly different direction: Doctor Zhivago, Dear and Glorious Physician—I didn’t tell her that just then Lady Chatterley’s Lover was on my nightstand—and Mrs. ‘Arris Goes to Paris.

“Really?” She sounded surprised, and I couldn’t help feeling disappointed that she’d be disparaging of my reading material. But then she said, “I love Paul Gallico. I haven’t had the opportunity to read Mrs. ‘Arris, but I’m looking forward to it. Once I have, perhaps we can discuss it?”

“Yes, I’d…we can do that.” For a brief moment, what felt like an almost besotted grin creased my face, but then I smoothed my expression. I wasn’t sure how she would react if she saw me as anything less than my professional persona.

It would be nice, though, to be able to relax the grip I always kept on my—no, what was I thinking? This was the only me: what people saw was what they got.

I sighed. The first—the only—woman I’d ever had real interest in, and not only was she beautiful, she was as good as American royalty. So completely out of my league.

I must have continued the conversation with some semblance of intelligence, because Portia didn’t appear to notice my distraction. Then again, she was very good at what she did, and I wondered if the key word was “appear.”

We arrived at the restaurant, and I put the car in neutral, stepped out, and walked casually around to the passenger side, where I opened the door and handed Portia out. The parking attendant gave me a chit, then got in the car and drove off to park it.

Portia tucked her small hand into my arm and smiled up at me, and I barely kept myself from tripping over the curb as we walked into the restaurant.

The hostess looked up from her station. “Good evening, and welcome to Casa del Vitello. Table for two?”

“Yes.”

“If you’ll come this way?” She led us to a corner table that had leather-bound menus resting on each bread plate. I knew no prices would be listed in it. “Alonzo will be your waiter. Enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you.” I saw Portia was comfortably seated, then took my own seat, and she smiled at me again. After that, I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman who sat across the table from me, and dinner could have been sawdust for all I cared.

Our waiter had to ask twice if we were ready to order.

“Sorry,” I murmured. We’d already discussed it, and Portia agreed she’d like to try the veal. “Yes, we’ll both have the veal saltimbocca with polenta as our side dish.”

“A very nice choice. Our chef has substituted sage for spinach and basil, and it’s been received very well. And may I suggest a Montelpuciano d’Abruzzo to go with that?”

I inclined my head. I’d had the Italian red when I’d been in the east-central region of Italy on assignment. “Yes, that will be fine. And for our appetizer, we’d like the calamari and tomato caprese with fresh burrata.”

Alonzo scribbled down our order and hurried off to take care of it.

* * * *

“You’re right, Nigel. This veal is very good.” Portia ate with dainty bites but with enthusiasm.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” I touched my napkin to my lips. “I understand you were in London a year or so ago. What did you think of it?”

The rest of the meal was spent in exchanging experiences on the Continent, although mine were carefully expurgated. Not that I was afraid I would shock her. However, even though she had a very high security clearance, there were some things no one except my immediate superior needed to know.

I ordered tiramisu and espresso for dessert.

“Very good.” She twinkled, and I lost myself in her gaze.

“Perhaps…perhaps you’d like to return sometime?”

“Yes, I would.”

“With me?” I wanted to bang my head with my hand. Whither Mr. Freeze? How could I be so gauche?

“With you, Nigel,” she agreed. “I’m so glad Tony suggested we go out to dinner.”

“So am I.”

“Would you have asked me otherwise? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.” She took a last sip of her espresso, the tiny cup concealing her expression.

“You have a formidable reputation and formidable brothers.”

“I see.” Her expression became cool, and she set the cup down with a snap.

“You don’t see.” I reached across the table and touched her hand. “Neither would have stopped me from asking you out.”

She looked…happy. Because I wasn’t intimidated by her or her family? I brought her hand to my mouth, turned it over, and kissed her palm.

“Would you like to go dancing, Portia?” I didn’t want the night to end.

“I’d love to go dancing, Nigel.”

“There’s a club just down the street. They have a trio—piano, bass, and sax, and they’re very good, I understand.”

“You understand?”

“I…I don’t usually go dancing in the middle of the week.” Actually, not at all. I knew how to dance—it was required at the preparatory school I’d attended—but there was rarely a call for it in what I did. I wasn’t one of those agents who wined and dined a target and took them dancing.

“I don’t either, but I’d love to see how good they are.”

I signaled our waiter, and he brought me the check. I took my wallet from my inner jacket pocket and withdrew a handful of bills. As I’d told Portia, I’d eaten there before and I was familiar with their prices. But her company was worth every penny.

“I’ll return with your change, sir,” the waiter said.

“No, keep it.”

He looked stunned. “Are you sure, sir?” The amount I was leaving him was perhaps a forty percent tip.

“Yes. Your service was excellent.”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” There was a vase with violets in the center of the table. They would look lovely on her coat. “Darl—” Dammit, I’d almost slipped. I took the flowers—although they were pretty, they weren’t as pretty as Portia—from the vase and offered them to her.

I regretted the action as soon as I saw her expression. I hadn’t expected her to jump with joy—they were simply restaurant flowers—but surely they shouldn’t have put that wistful look on her face.

“Did I do something to sadden you?”

“Not really. I was just reminded of someone else who once gave me violets.”

“Hmm.” The last thing I wanted was for her to think of someone else when she was with me. “Then I’ll have to find another flower for you.” I hoped I’d have the opportunity to discover which flowers would put a wistful expression on her face when she thought of them and me. Roses, perhaps, although red roses at this point might be considered too precipitate.

“I’d like that.”

I rose, went around to her side of the table, and drew her chair back. “I…I hope you don’t mind if I say I don’t want this evening to end.”

She seemed pleased to hear that.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t ruined the evening. I drew her arm through mine, and we strolled to the coat check.

* * * *

Because the club was so close, I decided we could walk to it. I handed the parking chit to the valet attendant, along with a twenty-dollar bill, in exchange for my keys and permission to leave the car where it was parked for a few hours, since I knew the restaurant would be closing soon.

Portia tucked her hand in the crook of my arm, and with her safely away from the curb, we strolled down the street.

It wasn’t quite midnight, the air was cool, and a full moon lit the sky.

“What a lovely evening.” She sighed happily.

“Yes.” I opened the door to the club, and she stepped in ahead of me, then came to a halt.

“Oh!” Other than the bartender and the band, the club was empty of patrons. “Are you closed? Perhaps we’d better go.”

“Nah, we don’t close until two, and we have to stay either way.” The bartender grinned and shrugged. “One of these days the owner’s gonna catch wise that it’s just me and the boys on Thursdays. What can I get you folks?”

“Portia?”

“A Manhattan, please.”

“A Manhattan and a vodka tonic,” I told the bartender. The temperatures weren’t low enough for me to require an overcoat, but I took Portia’s and draped it over a bar stool, then smiled at her. “Dance with me?”

She placed her purse on her coat and put her hand in mine, and I led her to the dance floor. She rested her other hand on my shoulder, while I placed mine on her waist. The trio began to play “It Had to Be You,” and we moved across the floor.

Having Portia in my arms was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and I was pleased when she nestled closer and rested her head on my shoulder.

When the song finished, I excused myself for a moment. Perhaps she thought I was going to pay a visit to the men’s room, although if that were the case, I’d never have left her standing in the middle of an empty dance floor. I went up to the bandstand.

“Anything wrong, sir?”

“Not in the least.” I took out my wallet and handed him a fifty-dollar bill. “Play ‘It Had to Be You’ again, please.”

“Any other requests?”

“No. Just that song, as many times as this will cover.”

He looked at the bill, slipped it into his pocket, and winked at me. “This’ll get you until closing.”

“Excellent. Thanks very much.” The music began, and I returned to Portia. She smiled into my eyes and placed her palm on my shoulder. Once again I had her in my arms. I pulled her close, and we began moving across the floor.

Dancing with Portia was effortless, like dancing on clouds. Her hair was soft against my cheek, and she fit so perfectly in my arms. I wanted nothing more than to hold her snugly against my body, but I was so erect all I yearned for was the sweet release of sliding into her supple body. I wouldn’t do anything of the kind, of course. I kept some distance between us so she wouldn’t be offended by my reaction to her, and we danced, and danced, and danced.