“Can I be honest with you? Hank’s a dream of a man but, between you and me, you’re not putting up much of a fight. You’re handing Amanda to him on a silver platter.”
Taylor stiffened. “I did ask her to escort Dr. Montgomery, but I thought—”
Reva set her cup down with a clink. “Why don’t you go punch Hank?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I guess that’s not a good idea,” Reva said. “After the way he took out Sam Ryan, I don’t guess you’d stand a chance. But, you know, you do have an advantage—you are engaged to Amanda. Tomorrow night she’s supposed to go to the carnival in Terrill City with Hank. Why don’t you invite her to the fair? She’d have to go with you since you two are engaged.”
“To a fair?” Taylor asked, aghast. “I hardly think so. There is, however, a reading of Thackeray’s work tomorrow night at—”
“Reading?” Reva gasped, then leaned toward him. “When you proposed, how did you do it?”
“I believe, Miss Eiler, that such things are personal.”
“Was it personal? Did you get down on your knees and swear undying love to her and say you’d die if she didn’t marry you?”
“I hardly think—”
“That’s what I thought.” She leaned back on the hard little couch. “Hank would. If Hank proposed to a woman, believe me, it would be romantic. He’d probably hire violins, have a tub full of champagne handy, and he’d make the woman feel as if she were the most beautiful, most desirable creature on earth.”
“I see,” Taylor said, and he did see somewhat. Romance was what Miss Eiler was talking about. “Do you think Amanda would like that?”
“All women like to be courted. All women want a man to be passionately obsessed with them. That’s what romance is—a man showing interest in a woman. It doesn’t have to be flowers and violins, it could just be a man wanting the woman to be near him all the time. Talking is romantic. A man being jealous is romantic. If you love Amanda, then you have to show her.”
“I gave her a ring,” Taylor said, defending himself.
“Which I’ve never seen on her finger since we picked it out. You didn’t by chance tell her I helped you choose it, did you?”
“I believe I did mention the fact.”
Reva groaned. There was passion inside him, she could feel it, but he had it locked somewhere deep down. He needed someone to help him thaw out. “Mr. Driscoll, if I may be blunt with you, you are losing Amanda. Unless you put up some fight for her, she’s going to run off with Hank Montgomery, or maybe with a traveling salesman.”
Taylor just looked at Reva. How did one fight? Perhaps poems by Robert Burns would do it.
Reva could see his confusion. “Invite Amanda to the carnival,” she repeated. “Take her to the carnival and show her a good time. Win her some prizes. Take her on a ride or two. Take her through the Tunnel of Love and kiss her wildly. Bring her home and try to force your way into her room. Make her think you’re going crazy with wanting her.”
Taylor stared at Reva. He couldn’t imagine doing any of the things she mentioned with Amanda but he’d like to kiss Miss Eiler.
Reva saw his look, and more than anything in the world, she wanted to touch this man. There was something about the way he was so stiff and unbending that fascinated her. “Perhaps, Mr. Driscoll,” she said softly, “you haven’t had enough practice in kissing women wildly.”
“Perhaps I haven’t,” he answered just as softly.
They leaned toward each other very slowly and when their lips touched, electricity shot through them. Taylor put his hand to the back of Reva’s head, holding her skull tightly.
She broke away first and looked into his dark eyes. Poor, she thought. Remember that. He’s as poor as a church mouse. Fall for him and you’ll end up with six kids and nothing to feed them. “Not bad,” she said, “but you need work. Take Amanda to the carnival and practice on her. I must go now.” She had to get out fast before she began “practicing” with him. “Good evening, Mr. Driscoll.”
“But the shop isn’t open,” Amanda said to Hank as they stood before the dress shop window. Hanging inside was a gorgeous silk charmeuse dancing dress with a bodice of Chantilly lace.
“You know the story of Aladdin? I happen to know the magic words to open the door at any hour, day or night.”
She looked up at him. When he was smiling at her she felt a little weak-kneed. “And what are the magic words?”
“I pay cash,” he said, and Amanda laughed. “Come on, the owner lives upstairs. Let’s get her to open the door and find you some clothes.”
Amanda felt a little jealous at the way the store owner so readily agreed to open the shop for Hank—again. He’d bought her other dancing dress there too.
As they were walking down the stairs, the owner in front of them, Amanda said, “You two certainly seem friendly.”