The truth of her words wounded him. Maybe Uncle Grif had been right. Maybe he was a stick in the mud. Well, that didn’t mean he had to stay that way. People changed. He could change without sacrificing his integrity in the process.
He started by ordering broiled trout for dinner instead of his usual prime rib. Lana compressed her lips into a thin line, but said nothing. Mitch sipped the excellent wine and regarded her over the rim of the glass. Her dark hair was drawn back from her face and gathered in a low knot, the kind ballerinas wore. He supposed people would say she had a classical beauty—fine features, with deep-set green eyes and a Roman nose.
“Is something wrong?” She looked puzzled.
He shook his head and picked up his fork. “No, nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why were you staring at me?”
He forced a pleasant smile to his lips. “Maybe I simply enjoy looking at you.”
She dismissed the compliment with a frown and began cutting up her prime rib with the precision of a surgeon. “I saw Jerry Brenham at lunch today. He says the Canterbury Apartments are going on the market next week. If you call him now, you could make a bid before anyone else.”
“Actually, I’m thinking of getting out of the rental market altogether.”
She raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow in question. “But why? The Boulder rental market is one of the most profitable in the country.”
“Yes, but I’m tired of being a landlord.” At least with his own restaurant, he wouldn’t have tenants calling him up in the middle of the night to complain about a lack of hot water or the noisy neighbors.
“You should hire a management company. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with tenants.”
“I like being personally involved in a business. That’s why I decided to open a restaurant.”
She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smear her lipstick. “I can’t imagine why. Half the fun of having money is being able to delegate the work to someone else.” She stabbed at a piece of beef. “Then you can go out and make more money.”
It always came back to money with Lana, didn’t it? he thought. They’d met at an investment seminar. He’d been attracted to her from the first because she was so different from him. She had a grace and ease in social situations he wanted to emulate, and a cool reserve he felt could help him keep a tighter reign on his own sometimes tumultuous passions.
The fact that she was the kind of woman who would have never looked at him twice when he was a struggling scholarship student in college made the challenge of winning her that much more exciting. And now here they were, if not engaged, then certainly “in a relationship.” But a relationship based on what—business?
They had dinner every Wednesday at the Boulderado, and attended the theater or a concert every Friday. He usually stayed at her condo two nights a week. She never stayed at his place; she said she couldn’t be comfortable there.
Why hadn’t he realized before how boring and predictable his life had become? He looked at his plate. Right down to the same New York cheesecake every Wednesday night for dessert.
“Mitch, why are you so quiet? Haven’t you been paying attention to a word I’ve said?” Did he imagine a note of annoyance in her voice?
He pushed his plate away. “I don’t want to talk about business tonight.”
She frowned. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
He leaned back in his chair and studied her across the table. “Why don’t we talk about us?”
Her eyes widened and she looked away. She balanced her knife and fork precisely in the center of her plate and folded her napkin neatly beside it. “I’m listening.”
And what did he have to say? How could he describe this restlessness he felt? “Lana, do you ever think about doing things differently?” he asked.
“Doing what things differently?” She sipped her coffee.
Decaf, extra cream, no sugar, Mitch thought.
“Anything. Everything.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “For instance, sex.”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean—do you ever think about…experimenting. Dressing up in sexy clothes or using some massage oil or…something.”
By this time her cheeks were the color of ripe apples and her lips had almost disappeared as she compressed her mouth into a thin line. “Really, Mitch. Why would you want to do any of that?”
“I don’t know…because it might be fun. Because maybe we’ve both been a little too…repressed.”
She stared at him. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing’s gotten into me. I just think my life has grown a little…boring. I don’t see what’s wrong with wanting to try something different.”
“I’m sorry if you think I’m…repressed.” She jerked her napkin from her lap and deposited it on the table.
“Lana, I didn’t mean you—”
“I think I’d better leave now.” She stood and clutched her purse to her chest.
“Lana, I—” The apology froze on his lips. He couldn’t say he was sorry, because he wasn’t. What was wrong with a couple talking about these things?
“Don’t bother to get up. I’ll call a taxi.” She gave him a last wounded look and hurried past him.
He told himself he should go after her. That’s probably what she wanted. But why should he pursue her? If Lana wasn’t even willing to listen to his point of view, what did that say about their relationship? He’d thought the safe, orderly routine they’d fallen into was what he wanted, but he realized that wasn’t enough anymore.
So no, he wouldn’t go after her. Actually it was a nice change sitting here alone, sipping his wine and thinking.
Mostly he thought of Jill. How different she was from Lana. Or from any other woman he knew. She was frank without being crass, funny without being phony. She looked like the girl next door and dressed like an erotic temptress. He’d only met her this afternoon but he already felt like she knew more about him than most people. She’d picked up right away on the reason he wanted to close Just 4 Play, and hadn’t been the least bit impressed with his position or power. She hadn’t cared if he owned a whole city block of businesses or if he was a scholarship student at the university.
He smiled, remembering the way she’d asked “What’s your fantasy?”
But his smile faded as her other words came back to him. Was she right? Was he too uptight? Had he forgotten how to have fun?
She couldn’t know how little room in his life there’d been for fun. From the time he was seventeen, he’d been looking after his mother and little sister, Meg. He’d worked and gone to school, and been there for every band concert and school program of Meg’s. Now that Meg was a premed student, she didn’t need him so much—except to pay the bills. And that meant he had to devote himself to business. To meeting the right people, making the right investments. He’d worked hard to develop a certain reputation. For Meg’s sake, as well as his own, he couldn’t let something like owning a sex toy shop cast a shadow over everything he’d worked for. People judged you more harshly when they knew you came from nothing. If too many people thought that way, you could end up with nothing again.
He’d have time for fun later. Right now he had to take care of his responsibilities.
Which brought him back to Jill. She was one of his responsibilities now too. And Sid. He would let them know