“We were just talking about the Scripture reading,” Tina said with a phony smile.
Christy wanted to slap her.
Lauren shifted her gaze and said nothing.
“It was an interesting lesson,” Christy said pointedly. “Especially that bit about taming our tongue. Don’t you agree?”
Tina and Lauren looked at each other before they nodded.
Christy headed for the doorway. Though she’d have liked to tell them what she thought of their gossipy ways, she had more important matters to attend to.
She had a cleaning lady to fire.
“Do you mind if I have the last one?” Christy eyed the asparagus spring roll with unabashed interest. It didn’t get much better than pasta, asparagus, cream cheese and smoked salmon all in one nice little roll. Though her entrée of beef tenderloin with peppercorns should be arriving any minute, it was almost eight o’clock and she was hungry now.
David shrugged his shoulders. “Fine with me.”
Christy shifted her gaze to her publicist. Though she wanted nothing more than to snatch the appetizer from the plate, Tom was technically her guest and deserved first shot at it.
A smile creased Tom’s lips. “It’s all yours.”
She flashed him a brilliant smile and lifted the tiny rolled lasagna noodle from the serving dish to her plate.
“You seem to have quite the appetite.” Tom’s gaze was filled with something akin to awe. “I don’t remember you eating this much in Chicago.”
“The air is fresher here,” Christy said. “Besides, I haven’t had that much, just a couple of—”
“Four,” Tom said. “You’ve eaten half the plate. David had two. I had two. You had the rest.”
She narrowed her gaze and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the linen napkin.
“Not that I’m counting or anything,” Tom said.
David’s gaze shifted silently from her to Tom, but he didn’t utter a word.
“David likes it when I eat,” she said, deliberately taking a bite of the roll.
Tom laughed. “Yeah, but he’s not the one who has to be concerned about you not fitting into all those clothes you bought last year.”
Christy groaned. Tom had been on his “image” kick last year. He’d hired consultants to analyze all facets of her personal “image.” The result was a couple of new lipstick colors and a line of skirts and tops designed to project an “aura of authority.”
“These skirts fit as well as the day I got them,” Christy said, deliberately ignoring the fact that the waistband of the one she’d worn yesterday had pinched a little. “You worry too much.”
“Isn’t that what you pay me to do?” Tom took a sip of the wine he’d ordered. He gestured to a bottle sitting tableside in a silver ice bucket. “Are you sure you won’t join me?”
Christy’s gaze met David’s and his lips twitched. He was no doubt thinking that the last time they’d shared a bottle of wine they’d ended up married.
“I’ll pass,” David said.
“None for me, thanks.” Christy’s gaze shifted to the waiter heading toward them, a full tray balanced in one hand. “It looks like our food is here.”
Over dinner Tom entertained David with stories about Christy’s various faux pas during her presentations. Never being one to take herself too seriously, Christy laughed along with them. It had been a long time since she’d had such a pleasant meal.
She was grateful she was able to finish her crème brûlée before Tom steered the conversation back to work.
“I’m telling you now, next year is going to be better than this one,” Tom said. “The number of offers I have on my desk at this moment are up thirty percent over last year. And they’re still coming in.”
“Do you think that’s because Christy is now married?” David asked.
“It certainly didn’t hurt,” Tom said. “To move into that top tier of motivational speakers she almost had to be married. No matter how knowledgeable, a single person talking about marriage just doesn’t have the credibility that a married person does.”
“But what about all the psychologists who go on television talking about raising children, who don’t have any themselves?” David asked.
“I’ve never said it absolutely can’t be done,” Tom said. “Just that it’s less likely to happen.”
“Thirty percent more travel is a lot,” David said. His gaze shifted to Christy. “Sounds like you’re going to be racking up those frequent-flyer miles.”
“If I accept all the offers.” Christy met her husband’s gaze. “Just because some group asks me to come doesn’t mean I will.”
“Of course not,” Tom said. “There’s a lot to consider—size of the group, type of group, topic they want presented—”
“Location and how long I’d be out of town,” Christy interjected.
Tom looked at her for a moment. “That, too, I guess.”
“I guess I should congratulate you,” David said in a hearty voice that sounded forced to her ears. “It looks like your career is headed straight for the stars.”
She reached under the table and squeezed his hand. For a moment she thought he was going to pull away, but then his fingers laced though hers.
It will work out, she promised herself. David loved her and she loved him. How could it not?
“Don’t you just love opera?” Karen smiled up at her husband and wrapped her arm though his.
Blake saw little choice but to return his wife’s smile. He hated opera. He especially disliked Tosca, the one he’d been forced to sit through this evening. But he did like mingling with the cream of St. Louis society at these events, and if it made his wife happy in the bargain, that was an extra bonus.
“I’ve had a nice evening,” Blake said smoothly, thinking specifically of the two business contacts he’d made during intermission.
“I’m glad.” She squeezed his arm. “It’s too bad David and Christy couldn’t go with us.”
“Yes, it is.” Blake would have liked having his cousin suffer through the opera with him.
They exited the Opera Theatre and instead of keeping up with the crowd heading for a nearby parking garage, Karen slowed her steps. “Blake, we need to talk.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing,” he said, narrowing his gaze. Was that the mayor up ahead in the tan topcoat?
“I’ve got something to tell you.”
The tan topcoat got into a black Lincoln parked in a no-parking area, and Blake shifted his gaze to his wife.
She looked so serious. What could she possibly have to tell him that they hadn’t already discussed? Karen had little interest in anything beyond him, their home and the children.
Could it be something with the girls? They’d looked okay when he’d seen them briefly before he and Karen had left for dinner. She’d been fussing over them as if they were leaving for days instead of just going out for the evening. But then, she always had babied them.
A cold chill ran down Blake’s spine and he shifted his gaze to the woman beside him. Was it his imagination or had she seemed a little too happy lately? Could she have pulled a fast one on him?