Simply Being Belle (12 page)

She glanced at
Dare uncertainly.

“Come with us,” he
urged.  “Inviting you along really was the reason for our visit.   As a
sidebar, I’d planned to talk to you about the case.”

Talk about the
case
.  Heavy sigh.  Oh, how she longed to talk about the case—any case. 
Reading those law books—though enchanting in their own right—simply wasn’t the
same as say, a rousing discussion of case law with good friends.

“I am hungry,” she
admitted, but refrained from telling her friends what she was most hungry for. 
She was hungry for talk of work, anything work, about new cases and old; was
even hungry for glorious office gossip. 

“Good then,” Dare
said crisply.  “Steven tells me Renaldo’s has the best pizza in town.”

“It’s true,” she
concurred.  “Okay, I’d love to go.  I could definitely use something to eat.  Do
you mind if I freshen up a bit?”

Steven grimaced as
he checked his watch.  Dare noticed.  “Why don’t you go on ahead and meet up
with Lacey.  If Belle doesn’t mind, we can drive together in her car.”

“That’d be great,”
Steven said with relief. 

He left, and Dare
followed Belle into her house.  “Have a seat in the living room,” she told him,
and then dashed upstairs to get ready.

She dressed quickly
in tan slacks and a soft blue sweater.  She ran a brush through her hair,
refreshed her makeup, and headed downstairs.  She found Dare standing, holding
the stack of granny squares in his hands.  He grinned broadly.  “You really
crocheted all of these this morning?” he said incredulously.

“Yes,” she
admitted reluctantly.  “Please don’t tell Millicent.”

He laughed.  “I
won’t.”  He noticed the law book on the end table.  “So you read this?”

She nodded.  “Cover
to cover.  I pick that one up and I just can’t seem to put it down,” she
marveled.

His eyes widened
in surprise.  He tossed the book onto the couch with a barely concealed
shudder.  It landed with a thud.

Belle gasped.  That
volume was a treasure, to be handled carefully, and with great reverence.  “You
don’t find that edition engaging?” she asked him curiously.

“Well, yes, I
suppose—in the same way I’m engaged when my car is stuck in the mud and I have
to pull it out.”

She cocked her
head slightly.  “Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh?  Well, I’m
ready to go,” she said absently.

“And quick as a
wink, too,” he observed. 

During the short
drive to the restaurant, Belle barely said a word.  She felt exhausted and
wondered if perhaps she should have stayed home and turned in early.  She
couldn’t stifle a yawn and Dare noticed.

“You’re tired,
aren’t you?”

She nodded.  “It’s
been a long day.”

“What’s on the
agenda for tomorrow?” he asked curiously.

She shook her
head.  “Who knows?”

“Will the hobby
search continue, or will you practice the art of simply being?”

She shot him a
searching glance as she pulled into the parking lot of the pizzeria.  Was he
making fun of her?  She suspected he was. 

When she didn’t
answer, he prompted with a, “Well?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you
could spare a few hours tomorrow?  I have a few things to show you related to
the case?”

“Really?”  She couldn’t
suppress her enthusiasm.  Could it be true that she would escape the drudgery
of her hobby search for even a few short hours tomorrow? 

“May I pick you up
at your place about ten in the morning?” he asked.

“Sounds fine,” she
agreed.

“One thing,” he
said, turning in the seat to face her.  “I’ll allow you to help me out with the
case if you’ll go somewhere with me Sunday, eight o’clock sharp.”

She shook her
head, confused.  “I don’t get…  Is it related to the case, as well?”

He shook his
head.  “I’d like to take a drive to the coast.  With you,” he added, smiling.  “How
long has it been since you’ve spent a day at the beach?”

She searched her
brain.  It had been two or three years at least.  “Are you asking me on a
date?” she inquired. 

He smiled.  “Yes.”

***

“My ‘yes’ to going
to the beach on Sunday is a condition of him allowing me to work on the case
tomorrow,” Belle told Lacey in a hushed voice. 

The men were at
the restaurant counter placing their pizza order and Belle didn’t want them to
hear her.  “That’s pretty nervy, don’t you think?”

Lacey chuckled.  “He
probably realized he wasn’t likely to get you to go anywhere—unrelated to the
case, that is—unless he resorted to stronger ammunition.”

“Why would he want
to take me to the beach?” she asked, brows furrowed in a frown.

“Are you being
serious now, or just fishing for compliments?”

Belle threw her
hands up, and Lacey realized her question was a real one.

“He likes you,”
she said simply.

“Why?”

“Okay, are we
going to talk in circles all evening?—because you’re wearing me out.”

Belle shook her
head confusedly. 

“You’re gorgeous!”
Lacey said.  “Good grief, do you ever look in the mirror?”

Belle subsided
into the chair, casting a quick glance at the men to assure they couldn’t hear
her.  “If Dare likes me for my looks, then I’d say he’s fairly superficial and
not someone I care to continue associating with.  Curls or no curls,” she added
with a chuckle.   

“Belle,” Lacey
groaned, “while you are a decidedly brilliant attorney, and a wonderful person,
I do wonder sometimes if you’re emotionally stunted.”

“What?” she cried
shrilly.

She shook her
head.  “You definitely need a vacation.  And, it’s high time you dated again. 
Good grief, you need a distraction—any distraction to take you away from work. 
I’d say Dare is about as good looking a diversion as there ever was.”

“He is handsome,”
she admitted off-handedly, eyeing him as he stood beside Steven and waited for
their sodas.  “But his personality can be grating.”

“
His
can be
grating?”  Lacey glanced heavenward.  “And Belle, Dare is more than a pretty
face.  Far more.  If you spend some time with him, you’re liable to find that
out for yourself.”

When the men
returned to the table carrying soda glasses and a pitcher of pop, Belle studied
him briefly.  He was arguably the best looking man in the room.  And she hadn’t
dated for some time.  Huh, could dating qualify as a hobby? she wondered, and
then grinned at the cheeky thought.

He noticed. 
“What’s so funny?” he asked, glancing around to discern the source of her
amusement.

“Nothing.  Hey,
what’s that question you were going to ask me?”  She watched him eagerly, much
like Tri watched her when she was filling his dog bowl with kibble.

“Ah, let’s leave
it for later,” he said with a sigh.  “There’s always tomorrow.  I see no reason
to ruin tonight with work talk.”

“Really, it’s
fine.  Ask me.  Go ahead.  Ask me.”  He simply had to ask her that question. 
He just … did.   

“Later,” he said
again, in a placating tone.  He reached for the pitcher of pop and began
filling their glasses.

“Are you sure?  I
mean, I’d be glad to answer any questions you might have about the Rodriquez
case.  Truly, I’d hate for you to forget the question.  I’m sure it must be
awfully important for you to have brought it up in the first place.  Go on.”

Belle knew she was
rambling, but she couldn’t help herself.  He watched her with barely concealed
pity.  “You do need a hobby.”

“Ah, shut up!”

He burst out
laughing.  “Did you really just tell me to shut up?”

She didn’t bother
responding.  He was torturing her—knew very well he was—and clearly relished
the power.  Maybe she wouldn’t bother to answer his doggone question when he
finally got around to asking it.  Maybe she wouldn’t help him out at all with
the case.  Maybe he could just slosh through it without her help.   

Maybe she wouldn’t
accompany him anywhere tomorrow, case or no case.      

Yeah, right.

Belle was dressed
and ready to go when Dare arrived at her house at ten o’clock on the dot the
next day.  She looked polished and professional in a navy A-line skirt, white
blouse, and navy pumps.  She had pulled back her sleek blond hair and clipped
it smoothly in place.  She was the embodiment of a career woman eager to get to
work.

Dare smiled
approvingly when she opened the door.  “Don’t you look nice,” he observed
smoothly. 

“Thank you.  You,
too.”

He did look very
handsome in dark slacks and a shirt that featured varying shades of blue that brought
out the crisp, cool blue of his eyes. 

Belle closed and
locked the door behind her and followed him to his economy car.  She was
somewhat surprised by his car, having half-expected him to drive up in a low
slung sports car.

He opened the
passenger door and she slipped in.  Her eyes lighted on a piece of pottery
stowed between the seats.  As Dare slid into the car, he noticed her looking at
the clay pot.  “Rosaria made that for me,” he said as he belted up and started
the ignition. 

“Rosaria Rodriquez? 
May I?”  He nodded and she reached for the pot. 

“She tells me it’s
a replica of a piece found at an archaeological dig in Guatemala.  Notice the
interesting pattern around the lip,” he pointed out, glancing at her briefly
before pulling into traffic.

“It’s beautiful.”      

So Rosaria had
made him a pot?  She had never made her a pot.  Belle reached for the piece,
turning it around for a closer look.  She checked out the base, noting it was
signed and dated.  As she tucked it safely back between the seats, something
occurred to her.  “Pottery is a hobby!”

Dare shot her an
amused glance, then resumed staring straight ahead.  “Yes, pottery can be a
hobby,” he said.  “Have you just decided on
your
new hobby?”

She considered the
question.  “I guess I’d have to pick up some clay,” she murmured aloud as she
did a mental inventory of the items she would need to pursue the craft. 

“I, uh, suspect
Rosaria probably made that particular piece on a wheel,” he observed.  “You’d
probably have to take a class in order to have access to one.”  He chuckled. 
“I don’t recommend purchasing one until you’ve actually given the hobby a lengthy
try first.”

Should she sign up
for a pottery class?  She just wasn’t sure if she was ready to commit to a
class schedule of any kind.  She suspected that once she returned to work, she
might not manage to fit classes into her hectic schedule, particularly if they were
scheduled more than once each week.

“I’ll just have to
mull it over,” she said.

“Sounds like a
plan,” he said good-naturedly.  “Hey, you haven’t asked where we’re going.”

“I was distracted
by the pot,” she said.  “Where are we going?”

“You’ll have to
wait and see,” he said somewhat mysteriously.

“This is
case-related?”     

“Absolutely, so
sit back and enjoy the ride.”

He drove for
several miles, and she barely registered the route they were on.  As usual, her
mind raced as she mentally reviewed aspects of the case.  She still wondered
what question Dare had intended to ask her last night, but refused to give him
the satisfaction of pressing him to ask it now.  She had some dignity.

When he suddenly
turned into the driveway of what appeared to be an upscale apartment complex,
she watched him curiously.  He parked and turned to her.  “Let’s get out and
have a look around.”

He climbed out of
the car and rounded the front to open her door, but she had already stepped out
and moved to stand on a sidewalk that appeared to wind through the complex. 
She saw the grounds were lovely, with flowerbeds and neatly trimmed trees.  She
also saw a playground for children, boasting a play structure that rivaled any she
had seen before.  The structure was a tangle of platforms, swings, slides, and
other engaging activities sure to appeal to children of all ages.

Belle resisted the
urge to dash over and climb on a swing.  As a child, she had always loved to
swing.  She remembered her grandfather had hung one from a tall tree in the
backyard of his home, and she had spent hours on it, daydreaming that she was a
butterfly or a bird and could take flight on a whim.   

Dare noticed her
studying the playground.  “What are you thinking?” he asked

She smiled
self-consciously.  “Oh, I was just remembering how much I loved to swing when I
was a kid.”

He took her elbow
and to her surprise, led her over to it.  “Climb on.  I’ll push.”

She shook her
head.  “No. That’s all right.”

“Are you sure?” 
He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Oh, why not?” she
acquiesced. 

She sat down on
the swing and he took hold, gently easing her back.  He released her, and she
glided forward, then back.  She felt the light pressure of his warm hand on her
back.  “Higher?” he asked.

She turned to meet
his gaze, smiled broadly, and nodded. 

“Hold on tight
then.”

This time, he
pushed harder and she sailed into the sky.  He stepped back and watched her
slice through the air. 

Belle suddenly felt
herself transported back to her childhood—to a time when she didn’t have a care
in the world.  She could have remained on the swing all day, had she not remembered
she was actually working and was light years past the lazy days of her early
childhood.