No More Lonely Nights (57 page)

Gabrielle’s face grew somber, her inner struggle evident. “I know Daddy made you sad.” She paused and averted her eyes. She picked at an imaginary thread on her jeans. “I don’t want you to be lonely.”

Mark raised his glass of wine in a toast. “To our reunion,” he said, his eyes radiating warmth.

Dominique felt a sharp pang as she remembered all the times Clay had toasted her—toasted their love, their marriage. She blinked and tried to focus on Mark, her thoughts suddenly cynical. How many other women had
he
brought here? He was so charismatic that she doubted that many women could resist him. Did he intend for her to be just another conquest? Dominique unconsciously squared her shoulders, determined to regard Mark as an old friend, nothing more. It was safer that way. For her, at least.

Their conversation began on a light enough note. Mark again complimented her on the gala. “You brought the New Orleans spirit with you,” Mark said. “Washington events tend to be all alike. People are a lot more interested in making contacts than they are in having fun.”

Dominique gave him a wry smile. “If I hadn’t developed such a good working relationship with Michelle de la Croix, I don’t think I could have persuaded the firm to go for some of my ideas.” She laughed. “Sylvia Brussels was against the showing of
Cabaret.
She thought the evening would go too late.”

“She’s the skinny blonde who never smiles?” Mark asked, waving away the proffered menus.

“That’s the one,” Dominique said dryly.

Mark gave her a sympathetic look. “She seemed pretty high strung.”

Dominique looked skyward. “If you only knew.” She sighed. “My job would be wonderful if it weren’t for her. I love what I do, but she always finds something to criticize.” She paused thoughtfully. “She must be a very unhappy woman, and I suppose I should feel sorry for her, but I’m afraid I’m not that big a person.”

“Why not quit?” Mark’s tone was casual.

“After only seven months? That wouldn’t look too good on a résumé. Besides, Mrs. Filmore—”

“Hold on right there!” Mark held up his hands. “I don’t mean another job. I mean start your own business.”

Dominique couldn’t help but smile at Mark’s eagerness. Of course, he wasn’t being realistic. “Mark, I’d have no idea how to run my own business. Where would I put my office? How would I get customers? Who would keep things organized for me? Right now, I have a secretary and can call on any number of staffers for big events. I could never afford that if I started my own business.”

Mark refused to be discouraged. He leaned forward to make his point. “You’d get a loan,” he said, as though it were all so simple.

Dominique fixed him with a sardonic look. “I can’t even get a credit card! Every account we had was either Clay’s or a joint one. I have no credit history of my own.”

Mark frowned and sat back. For a moment he said nothing, and his expression turned pensive. Finally he asked, “Don’t you have any assets you can sell?”

Dominique shook her head. “I sold them all. I have a little cash but, frankly, I’m afraid to touch it. You never know….” Dominique thought of Clay. What if he decided to stop paying her alimony and she had to go to court all over again? What if an emergency arose? She couldn’t invest her savings in such a risky proposition.

Mark tilted his head to one side and said slowly, “You’re a paradox.”

Dominique knit her brow. “What do you mean?”

Mark put his hand under his chin and rested his elbow on the table so that he was staring straight into Dominique’s eyes. “You’re one of the most competent people I’ve ever met, yet you’re worried about making a living. You’ve initiated tremendous changes in your life, yet you shy away from more change. You have very clear ideas of right and wrong, yet you’re forgiving when someone does something wrong to
you.”

Dominique stared at Mark, surprised that he had spent so much time thinking about her character.

The waiter appeared at Dominique’s side with a menu. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad of the interruption. It was better to end the disquieting conversation.

After they had ordered, Mark sat back in his seat and folded his hands over his stomach. “Dominique…”

Dominique looked at him apprehensively, sorry she had brought up the subject of her job. The restaurant was a romantic place, with dark-salmon banquettes and peach walls designed to cast a flattering glow on female guests. Why not simply enjoy the pleasure of being there, Dominique thought? Stay away from stressful topics—and thoughts.

Mark continued. “As I said, you’re one of the most competent people I’ve ever met. You’re certainly the hardest working. And I’d consider an investment in your new business an advantageous proposition for me.”

Dominique’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait a minute!” she said firmly. “You act as though I’ve agreed to this thing in principle. I haven’t. For one thing, where would I get clients? I’m not going to steal Mrs. Filmore’s. Plus, I don’t have any knowledge about—”

Mark held up an index finger. “Let me interrupt,” he said. “You’ve raised a few decent objections and one ridiculous one.”

Dominique frowned at the word. She began huffily, “I don’t think any of my objections are—”

“Where would you get clients?” Mark cut in, his tone frustrated as he mocked her question. “Do you think maybe that I have one or two contacts? And could steer them your way?”

Dominique was effectively silenced. She looked down at the tablecloth. Mark made it sound easy. But, of course, it wasn’t. What did she know about running a business? If she failed, she would have no way to repay Mark. She
couldn’t
take his money. It was antithetical to the new goal she had set for herself: independence.

“Mark,” she began, her voice warm. “I appreciate your trying to help. And I appreciate your listening. But the time isn’t right for me.”

Mark leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table.

Dominique saw the disappointment in his eyes. She felt the need to offer an explanation. “I’ve had so many changes in my life this past year…. I’m just starting to feel settled. I’m not ready for another big disruption.”

Mark dropped his hands and sat up straight. “You’ve always been strong. Don’t let that Brussels woman dictate the circumstances of your life.” He tapped the table softly for emphasis. “You’re a survivor. You’ll land on your feet.”

“Mark,” Dominique said softly, “if I accepted your loan, I wouldn’t be standing on my own feet. I’d be relying on you.”

Mark shook his head vehemently. “No! Don’t you see?
You’re
the one who would make it work. And when it did, you’d be free!”

Free. The word rang out in the murmur of the restaurant. How wonderful to be free. Seen in that light, Mark’s offer sounded tempting. But she couldn’t let herself be seduced by it. Dominique shook her head slowly. “If the time ever comes that I choose to go into business for myself, I won’t do it by borrowing from a friend.” She met Mark’s eyes with an earnest expression. Then she reached forward and covered his hand with hers. There was a tingle of electricity where they touched, and the shock of contact jolted her. She withdrew her hand at once. Shyly, she said, “You’re a good friend.”

Mark leaned forward and grasped the hand she had just pulled away. “More than that, I hope.”

Dominique studied Mark, trying to gauge his seriousness. His eyes creased at the corners in the perpetual smile that was unique to him. Was he just flirting? He seemed to be moving fast toward intimacy—an intimacy that Dominique wasn’t certain she was ready for.

Mark saw Dominique’s uneasiness and released her hand, frustrated. He knew that beneath the surface caution was hidden a woman of tremendous courage and resourcefulness. How could he bring her to the forefront?

With a sigh, he raised his hand to summon the waiter. For now, it was time to back off.

After dinner, Mark suggested a stop at Mr. Smith’s, a Georgetown piano bar. The atmosphere in the dark little cavern was raucous and fun—much too noisy for substantive conversation. So they listened to the music and laughed at the singers. By the time they emerged at midnight, Dominique was feeling relaxed.

She grinned as she folded herself into his minuscule MG. “This gets harder with every glass of wine.”

Mark laughed and closed her door. As he swung into the driver’s seat, he said, “Yeah, but this car’s a classic—a fifty-nine MG. One of my last bachelor flings. She has almost two hundred thousand miles on her.” He patted the steering wheel affectionately. “She’s been all over the state of Louisiana with me. All my campaigns.”

Dominique’s brow furrowed as she tried to recall his senate campaign so many years before. “This is the same little green car you had then?” She ran her hand over the leather-covered dashboard. “It’s in perfect condition. You’d never know it was fourteen years old.”

Mark started the engine. “I give her a lot of tender loving care, so I’m hoping she’ll be around for a while. Even if she broke down completely, I don’t think I could ever get rid of her.”

Dominique found it endearing that Mark displayed his sentimentality without embarrassment. She remembered Clay’s insistence on a new car every other year. Mark’s stout loyalty seemed more admirable. He was so likable!

Nevertheless, the evening ended on an awkward note. As Mark pulled to a stop in front of Dominique’s house and turned toward her, she had a sudden moment of panic. This was too much like a date. The whole thing suddenly seemed undignified. It didn’t feel right to be sitting in a car in front of her house, wondering what would happen next.

Before Mark could say a word, Dominique gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek, and in a rush of words thanked him for the evening and slid from the car. “Don’t bother getting out,” she said. “I’m sure everyone’s asleep, and I don’t want to make any noise.”

Mark stared at the empty place beside him, befuddled by Dominique’s haste. Just before she closed the door, he had the presence of mind to call out her name.

She hesitated, then lowered her head and looked in at him. She seemed so uncomfortable that Mark couldn’t help smiling. He guessed that this was the first time since her divorce that she’d been out with a man. That made him feel good, as though she’d broken a rule for his sake. “I’m not going to bite,” he joked.

Dominique watched his expression turn jolly. There was nothing remotely threatening about him. So why was she acting like such a fool? “I know,” she said with a self-deprecatory smile. She regarded him fondly. “I had a wonderful time, Mark.” She paused. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his concern for her, how very special he made her feel, but the words stuck in her throat. “Well”—she took a step back and prepared to close the car door—“thank you.”

“Dominique,” Mark said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

Her eyes were golden candles in the moonlight, the only distinct feature on her shadowed face.

This is just the beginning, isn’t it? Mark wanted to ask. But it was premature; Dominique was already so skittish. He fell back on the mundane. “I have a speech in Baton Rouge, so I’ll be away this weekend, but can we get together next Wednesday?”

Dominique gave him a melting smile. “I’d like that.”

“Tell me every detail!” Danielle demanded.

Dominique could envision her settling in for their Saturday morning call. She was probably curled up on the living-room sofa in one of her velvet and lace robes, a cup of coffee at her elbow. Dominique smiled and leaned against the kitchen counter. “About what?” she asked with comic innocence, knowing that Danielle had only one thing on her mind: Mark.

Danielle laughed. “I’ve been in suspense since Wednesday. Don’t draw it out!”

“Wel-l-l… he came in and said hello to Mother and Gabrielle.” Dominique spoke softly, not wanting to awaken the others. When she finished, she would wake Solange and put her on the phone with Danielle.

“How was Mother?” Danielle asked, her tone dubious. “She was so eager last Saturday, I was afraid she wouldn’t let Mark out the door until he’d asked you to marry him.”

Dominique snickered softly. “If anyone knows feminine wiles, it’s Mother. With Mark, she was the picture of nonchalance.”

“What about Gabrielle?” Danielle asked in a worried tone. It was clear she envisioned childish fits of jealousy.

Dominique’s voice filled with affection. “She’ll be all right. At first, things were a little stiff, but Mark charmed her.”

“He could charm anyone!” Danielle said. She lowered her voice confidentially. “He’d be a wonderful catch.”

“I’m not interested in ‘catching’ anyone,” Dominique said sternly. “I’ve had it with marriage and I don’t want to be burned a third time. I’m a lot better off on my own.” Dominique had expected Danielle to contradict her but, surprisingly, she didn’t.

“You may be right,” Danielle said in a small voice.

Dominique was astonished. “Is something wrong between you and Ron?”

“No, no,” Danielle said quickly. She paused. “I don’t know. He’s talking about early retirement.” Another pause. Then, in a downcast voice, she said, “We can afford it, I suppose…”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Dominique asked, confused.

“No!” Danielle cried. “He’s ending my life before it’s even begun! He’s not even fifty and he wants to go off to Florida or something and live like old people! And what am I supposed to do if I don’t want to?” Her voice rose in distress. “I mean I love Ron and the girls, but I feel like I’ve missed something and I don’t know what it is!”

Dominique felt helpless in the face of her sister’s malaise. “You mean romance?”

“Noooo!” Danielle said scornfully. A pause. Then, thoughtfully, she said, “Well, maybe.” Another moment of reflection. “Noooo.”

“Maybe your feelings have nothing to do with Ron. Maybe you’re just bored. What about getting a job?”

Danielle sighed. “Who would have an over-forty housewife with no experience?”

“You never know until you try.”

Danielle made a sound of disbelief. “And just what am I qualified to do?”

Dominique pursed her lips. “Hmmm. I don’t know… work in a store?”

“And stand on my feet all day? Ha! No thanks.”