Danielle Steel - Dating Game

“In some ways,” Paris conceded. “But this isn't what I'd have chosen to do with my life. I was happy the way things were.”

“I'll bet a year from now you'll be happy he left.” That concept was inconceivable to her. She knew that whatever happened, she would never be happy Peter left. All she would have wanted was to stay married to him. But since she couldn't have that, she was willing to acknowledge the blessings in her new life. But even now they were second best, and she suspected they would always be.

Chandler stayed until six o'clock, and then he left. He said he was going to L.A. in his plane the next day, and he would call her when he got back. And the next morning, she had flowers from him again.

“I see Mr. Freeman is in hot pursuit,” Bixby commented drily as he came into her office to go over some sketches for a wedding they were doing in June. “Having fun?”

“I think so,” she said cautiously, but she wasn't sure. He was easy and pleasant and very charming, but under the surface there was something bitter and angry. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of his ex-wife.

It was Thursday before she heard from him again, and by then he was in New York. He had business there, and said he wouldn't be home till Sunday night, not that she cared. But it had been thoughtful of him to call. And the following week he called her, and asked if she'd like to go to L.A. with him, on his plane. She hesitated, but only for an instant. She had no intention of going away with him, or more specifically, sleeping with him. She wasn't ready to cross that bridge yet. And as delicately as she could, she said as much to him, and he laughed.

“I know that, silly. I was planning to get two rooms at the Bel-Air. I wanted to take you to one of the pre-Grammy parties with me. I have a friend in the music business, and he invites me to come down every year. It's quite a show. Would you like to come?”

She hesitated and then realized she could see Meg. She could have seen her anyway, if she went down on her own. But she had to admit that the party he was suggesting sounded like fun.

“I'm not sure I can get the time off from work. Let me talk to Bixby, and I'll let you know.” She wasn't sure what she wanted to do about it, but she was stalling for time. And that afternoon she asked Bixby about it when she was sitting in his office working with him.

“I can spare you for a day, if that's what you want,” he said generously. “Are you sure you want to go?”

“No, I'm not,” she said, looking as confused as she felt. “He's a nice man, but I'm not ready to sleep with him or anyone,” she admitted candidly. “He said he'd get me my own room. It might be fun. I don't know.”

“Hell, Paris, why not?” Bixby said with a grin. “I'd like to go too.”

“Then you go with him,” Paris teased.

“Wouldn't he be surprised?” Bixby laughed. “Was he all right about your having your own room?” He was curious.

“He seemed to be,” she said pensively.

“He sounds pretty smooth.” It was precisely what Bixby didn't like about him. He sounded like a pro to him.

By the end of the afternoon she called Chandler, and taking a deep breath, she said she'd go with him. He said they were going to fly down Friday morning. The party he was inviting her to was that night. And fortunately, by sheer luck, Bixby didn't have any major events scheduled for that weekend. Just a small dinner party Sydney Harrington was catering for them, and she would handle that on her own. The following weekend they were doing a huge wedding, and Paris couldn't have gone to L.A.

Paris called Meg that night and told her she was coming down. She said she didn't know what their plans were for the rest of the weekend, but she was going to find time to see Meg whenever she could. She was planning to tell Chandler that too.

“Sounds pretty glamorous, Mom,” Meg said, sounding pleased for her. “What's he like?”

“I don't know. Nice, I guess. He's very good-looking, and very well dressed. He talks a good game, as Bixby would say. And he's been very nice to me.” But she didn't sound enthused. He wasn't Peter, and it was strange being with a new man, stranger still traveling with him to another city. She still wasn't sure she should. But he seemed to understand the ground rules, and accepted them. She was relieved that he had agreed to separate rooms. Otherwise she wouldn't have gone. And she was planning to pay for her own. She didn't want to be indebted to him. Going to the party with him and to L.A. on his plane was more than enough.

“Are you falling for him, Mom?” Meg asked, sounding concerned.

“No, I'm not. I'm not really dating him,” she said, kidding herself. “We're just going out as friends.”

“Does he think that's all it is?”

“I don't know what he thinks. But he's certainly clear that I'm not going to sleep with him. I think he's a gentleman, and if he's not, I'll come stay with you.” Meg laughed at her mother's illusions about dating.

“You'd better take some Mace with you, in case he breaks into your room.”

“I don't think he's the type. At least I hope not. If he does, I'll call the police.”

“That would be nice,” Meg laughed again, and then told her mother she was seeing someone new. He was the first man she'd gone out with since Peace.

“Does this one have a normal name?” her mother teased, and Meg said he did. His name was Anthony Waterston, and he was another young actor she'd met on the set. She said he was very talented, but she didn't know much about him yet.

“It's a lot of work, all this stuff, isn't it?” It reminded Paris of weeding her garden in Greenwich. Sometimes you had to look hard to decide which were the flowers and which were the weeds. And even then sometimes you weren't sure. “I'll see you sometime this weekend,” Paris promised, and then she called Wim to let him know she'd be away. He was out, but she left him a message on his machine.

And that night, when she went to bed, she thought long and hard about what she'd wear. She didn't think she had anything glamorous enough for a Hollywood black tie event, and then she settled on a white silk dress Peter had loved. It had been a little racy for Greenwich, but it was the best she could do, and she didn't have time to shop. She was too busy at work. She didn't have another minute to breathe all week. Or to think about Chandler Freeman.

Chapter 18

Chandler picked Paris up in the Ferrari at eight o'clock on Friday morning, and she was ready and waiting for him. Her bag was packed, and she was carrying her dress in a garment bag. She was wearing a black pantsuit and a fur jacket, and he was wearing a dark suit. They made a handsome pair as they drove off. And an hour later, after parking his car, they were boarding his plane.

It was comfortable and sleek, and she was surprised to see that there was a hostess on board when he took his place in the pilot's seat.

She had a cup of tea and read the paper as they flew south, and by the time she was finished, they were ready to land. It had been a short flight, and she was impressed by how expertly Chandler flew the plane. He obviously took it seriously, and he paid no attention to her until they were on the ground. There was a limousine waiting for them. Meg was right. It was turning out to be a very glamorous weekend. More so than she'd thought.

They chatted in the limo on the way to the hotel, and everyone seemed to know him at the Bel-Air. They bowed and scraped, and an assistant manager escorted them to their rooms, and when she saw them, Paris was impressed. He had an apartment of sorts that he said he always had, and he had reserved a huge suite for her, which he had already paid for, in spite of her objections. He said he wanted to do that for her. In fact, he insisted on it.