Arms of an Angel (2 page)

“
Thank you, Anthony. Perhaps
you should consider returning a thank you to me as well.” Claire
laughed as the man’s cheeks burned and he realized he’d been
caught.

“
I’m so sorry…” He wrestled
with the words of his apology. Undoubtedly he could see his tip and
perhaps even his job disappearing.

Claire winked at him. “No harm in being
appreciated. The dress was chosen for such. Simply be more discreet
in the future. There are those women who are not nearly as kind
about it as I am. Some are flattered. Some are not. Some will make
a scene merely because they can.” He nodded, smiled graciously,
thanked her, and walked away.

Claire turned her attention back to the other
table as she tasted the calamari. Splendid, she thought. The eyes
of the man at the table with the two women echoed that thought
about her. Claire had indeed succeeded at the one thing in life;
making herself desirable. It was all a woman like her could be.
Without the ability to give a man children, she’d be nothing but a
playmate; certainly not a proper wife.

The woman on the opposite side of the table
from Claire’s admirer suddenly realized he was flirting with
someone besides her friend. She glared at Claire and then the man
before kicking him under the table. Claire could not suppress quiet
laughter as his flirtations turned to painful surprise. She
shrugged her bare shoulders and smiled as the woman again looked at
her and shook her head as if it was all Claire’s fault. Perhaps his
female counterpart should try being less talkative and more
attentive to her own appearance. He braved another glance in
Claire’s direction as his date’s friend busied herself with finding
something in her bag. Claire pretended to drop her napkin and
leaned over to retrieve it. She may as well make his risk
worthwhile.

As she righted herself, her attention was
captured by the Maitre d’ chattering away to a rather attractive
gentleman as they neared her table. She’d missed his hasty,
breathless arrival and attempt to “pretty himself up” as he’d
rushed in, late as usual. He was surprised when the Maitre d’ had
told him his date had already arrived; especially since not so many
minutes before she’d called to let him know her baby was feeling
poorly and she simply couldn’t leave just yet. Poor thing must have
gotten better rather quickly.

“
You’re a lucky man, Mr.
O’Bryan, to have such a lovely wife.”

They stopped beside Claire’s table. Garrett’s
brows dipped. Claire stared up at the two men in confusion. The
Maitre d’ smiled.

“
Is there a problem?” Claire
asked, though her words were partially covered over by Garrett’s
voice.

“
Wife?” he said in surprise.
“I’m not married.”

Now the other man’s face registered
confusion. He looked from Garrett to Claire and back again.

“
You’re sure she’s not your
wife?” he asked hopefully. Garrett shook his head. “O’Bryan?” He
turned back to Claire in despair. She shook her head.

“
Orion,” she answered trying
hard to suppress her mirth. It was obvious now why she’d gotten a
table so easily.

The Maitre d’ closed his eyes, undoubtedly
shuffling through options. The house was packed with no available
tables. His musings were interrupted by Garrett’s cell phone.

“
Donna? Where are you?”
Garrett asked the unseen. “Oh. Right. I’m sorry to hear that. Okay.
Yes. Another time, perhaps. Well, if she’s still ill, of course you
must stay and take care of her. Good-bye.” He placed the phone back
in his pocket then looked at the two sets of eyes that watched and
waited.

“
Well, Mr. Ballard. It looks
as if it’s your lucky evening. My date has had to cancel. I won’t
be needing my table after all.”

Obvious relief washed over Mr. Ballard’s
face.

“
I’m sorry to have
interrupted your dining experience, Ms. Orion.” Garrett nodded to
her as he started to leave.

“
Mr. O’Bryan?” she called,
the caress of her voice causing him to turn back. He raised his
brows in answer and waited. “Since you’re already here and
undoubtedly haven’t eaten yet, would you care to join me? My treat.
It’s the least I could do for taking your table.”

Garrett studied the beautiful woman as he
contemplated her proposal. He felt eyes on him from all directions
and knew there wasn’t a man in the place that didn’t wish he was in
Garrett’s shoes.

“
Well?” she smiled. She knew
it too.

“
I’d love to.” He returned
to the table. “And, you’re right. I’m starving.” He slipped into
the seat across from her.

“
Perfect. Shall I pour you a
glass of wine or request a bottle of champagne to add to the
conversational fodder?” she asked in her most conspiratorial tone.
He glanced around and eyes quickly turned away.

“
Oh champagne , of course.
We shall toast our unique beginning…” he played along to her
delight.

“
You heard the gentleman,
Mr. Ballard. The finest that you have to offer and quickly before
the magical moment passes by.”

“
Of course! And on the
house,” the Maitre d’ told her as he rushed away.

“
Our meal will be free as
well, no doubt. Oh don’t worry,” she said at his look of concern.
“I’ll leave a tip that will more than make up for whatever might
come out of our dear Mr. Ballad’s own pocket.” Claire laughed
freely.

“
You’re an ornery one,
aren’t you?” Garrett shook his head though the corners of his mouth
curved upward.

“
An honest mistake, I
suppose. Though these shenanigans have caused my hors d'oeuvres to
grow cold. You wouldn’t mind skipping right to the main course,
would you, Mr. O’Bryan and perhaps offering me a first
name?”

What a delightful, to-the-point young lady,
Garrett thought as he properly introduced himself. “Garrett
O’Bryan.”

“
Claire Orion.” She took the
hand he offered across the table. “My pleasure.”

Her skin was pleasantly soft though her grip
was firm. He was impressed. Obviously she was well bred; good blood
and great training. His unexpected companion was a stunning package
all the way around. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been in
the company of one so lovely; if he ever had. Indeed she was rare
on many fronts.

She laughed and Garrett realized he’d held
her hand in his just a little longer than protocol deemed
reasonable.

“
I was admiring your ring.”
He tried to cover his embarrassment at being caught up in the sheer
enjoyment of the feel of her hand in his as she chuckled and pulled
her hand away. It really was a lovely ring. Thank goodness she was
wearing it or he didn’t know what he’d have said about holding her
hand so long.

“
It was my mother’s; a gift
from her grandmother,” Claire offered as she gazed lovingly at the
ring on the hand he’d just released. “Her wedding set is equally as
stunning,” she told him, as she thrust her left hand across the
table.

Garrett looked at the rings and nodded in
agreement. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“
For?” Her eyes narrowed as
she looked at him.

“
For the loss of your
mother, and at such a young age.”

She eyed him suspiciously and grew noticeably
tense as she asked, “What makes you think my mother is dead?” She
was immediately on guard.

“
Sorry. Didn’t mean to
appear prying. Goes with the profession I suppose.”

“
And that profession might
be…? Her chin was set in a defiant tilt that he didn’t
understand.

“
Psychologist,” he told her
after a long pause. Her sudden change in demeanor made him hesitant
to tell her; fearful his lovely companion would bolt and he’d find
himself finishing the meal alone. “Don’t worry,” he added as her
lips tightened into a thin, straight line. “I don’t spend my off
hours analyzing those around me, especially when the company is so
pleasant.”

“
Yet you did.” She waved her
ringed fingers at him.

“
Ah, not fair.” He pointed
at her. “You as much as told me yourself!”

“
Really?!” Her voice was
riddled with disbelief and distrust. “And I did that by
…?”

“
The rings. Your mother
might have given you the wedding set had she divorced, though not
likely. Most women are peculiar about those things. They either use
them to create a different ring or, more times than not, lock them
away. Certainly she would be a rare woman who would accept her
daughter wearing them and on her left hand at that. Your other ring
as well… You said it was a gift to her from her grandmother. Why
else would she have parted with them both?” He shrugged, hopeful
his explanation would suffice. His eyes pleaded with her to accept
it.

At last she nodded and relaxed, though she
couldn’t help commenting. “That would still be analysis and I’d
certainly better not receive a bill.”

He laughed; delighted she wasn’t going to
hold his profession against him. Claire smiled and reminded herself
she’d best watch her words and her actions.

“
So, your date’s daughter
became ill?” she asked in an attempt to divert the
conversation.

Garrett laughed. “Her daughter? Not exactly.
Her dog! Though she treats her better than most people treat their
children.” He rolled his eyes and Claire raised her finely plucked
brows in seeming disapproval. “Oh dear. Don’t tell me you’re one of
them – the pets are equal or above people people! And I thought you
so nearly perfect.” He grimaced and Claire laughed heartily.

“
Far from perfect and I
don’t have a dog. I was thinking though…” she stopped, unsure of
whether her words could cross boundaries of butting in. She barely
knew this man, after all. Truly it was none of her business. She
certainly didn’t want to find herself being analyzed
again.

Garrett waited for her to continue. “Thinking
what?” he asked when she did not.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be
rude.”

“
I promise I won’t take it
that way. You’ve piqued my interest. Don’t leave me hanging!”
Garrett pretended to pant and beg at the same time.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Well, you don’t seem
overly thrilled with your girlfriend and her doggie situation. In
fact, you don’t seem that into her at all.” She shrugged.

“
Fair assessment. Although
she was to be my dinner companion, she’s not my girlfriend. We’ve
been out a few times. I wasn’t sure it was clicking. Tonight pretty
much confirmed it for me.” He watched Claire as she put all the
pieces together. “Does it all fit?”

She nodded.

After a moment of silence between them he
asked, “May I inquire without you believing yourself under
scrutiny, as to what it is that you do, Ms. Orion?” He was amazed
by the almost instantaneous look of mischief that covered her
face.

“
I do as I please, Mr.
O’Bryan. Nothing more. Nothing less.” She shrugged at his lack of
surprise and laughed. “You’re right. My parents are both dead and I
inherited a vast fortune at a young age. Therefore, I’ve never had
to
do
anything.”

“
And you’re okay with that?
No dreams you’re pursuing? No cause you stamp as your own?” he
questioned.

“
Now, now! That sounds very
near analysis to me,” she teased with an edge of
seriousness.

“
Mere conversation, my dear.
You’re not exactly dressed for me to request that you lie down on
my couch.” He regretted the words as quickly as they’d spewed from
his mouth. The look on her face made him blush and he could tell
she was toying with her come back.

“
Fair enough. Couches aren’t
exactly my first choice for… reclination, relaxation, or
recreation, let alone the reading of my mind.” He expelled the
breath he’d held making her laugh. “Do I scare you… is it actually
Mr. or should I be calling you Doctor?”

“
I believe I have seen
enough in these few minutes to realize I should be on guard. I have
told myself that a time or two since I sat down, yet I continue to
fail to heed my own warnings. And I am addressed most often as
Doctor though Mr. is perfectly fine with me. I do happen to be that
as well. Although, to my patients and around the office Doctor
seems to be the name I go by.”

“
Remind me to never ask you
a simple question if I’m in a hurry,” she laughed.

What sweet melodic laughter. It seemed to
come so freely from her, yet there was something guarded about her
as well. Was there a hint of sadness, of longing, behind the
beautiful, mischievous sparkle of her blue-gray eyes?

“
Stop staring. You’re giving
me the creeps. It’s as if you’re trying to look into my mind.” She
didn’t want him in her head, especially tonight of all
nights.

He shook his head. “It’s just your eyes;
they’re such an unusual shade of blue. I didn’t notice at first.
It’s almost as if they…”

“
They change color…with my
moods and feelings or most probably with my blood pressure,” she
finished his sentence. “Another gift from my dead
mother.”

She was poking fun at him. At least she could
find humor in an undoubtedly trying situation. He wanted to inquire
about the particulars of their passing, though he knew she’d accuse
him of practicing his profession. He chose a hopefully less sticky
subject.

“
Ms. Orion, do you suppose
we might dispense with the last name formalities? I believe as the
champagne loosens my tongue the Orion/O’Bryan similarities may
provoke me to an awkward slip. I’ll forget which of us is which.”
They both laughed.