London Broil Read Free Page A

was
     in his fifties, he would have been a young man during some of
     the worst days in the seventies. It might be a sensitive
     subject.

 
    Babur arrived
     with their food, deposited it, and left, still radiating
     disapproval. Whelan looked after him, grinning, and then turned
     to her.

 
    "I believe our
     mutual friend Babur is concerned for your virtue."

 
    "He needn't be,"
     she replied lightly, sounding more confident than she felt, and
     trying to hold his gaze. She realized that his eyes were hazel,
     mostly brown but with a slight tint of green.

 
    "I'm wounded," he
     responded in the same tone, adding, "Am I as unattractive as all
     that? I must be getting old." Rascal, she thought. You know very
     well how good looking you are.

 
    "No, it's just
     that... you seem to be well supplied with female friends
     already. Adding another one could dangerously tax the strength
     of a man your age."

 
    He chuckled and
     raised his glass. "I see. You're really twisting the knife now."

 
    "Well, then,
     let's say instead that when I'm sleeping with a man, I like to
     have his full attention."

 
    "You've certainly
     got mine now," he said, sitting up straighter and then leaning
     toward her with an exaggerated leer.

 
    She felt her
     cheeks burning. How could I have said something so crude? she
     thought, and then: my face must be bright red.

 
    After a few
     moments, he slowly said, "Did you know that when you blush, the
     color travels all the way down your neck?" His gaze slid down to
     her chest and back up to her face. She was wearing a silky brown
     top with a deep V-neck, and a simple strand of faceted,
     colorless crystal beads. It was true; once she had looked in the
     mirror after a particularly trying faculty meeting, only to see
     that there were blotches of pink on her neck and chest. Now she
     only shook her head, speechless.

 
    "Have some
     water," he said then.

 
    She took a drink
     of the water, then set it down. "Sorry. I'm not used to
     flirtatious conversations with men. I spend most of my time with
     books, but I can see I've been missing out on a great deal."

 
    "What do you
     do?" he asked.

 
    "I teach English
     at a university in Pennsylvania."

 
    "Pennsylvania?
     I've been to Philadelphia, once. And New York City, of course."
     As they ate, they talked about travel and Americans visiting
     Britain, and the British and Irish visiting America, and his
     acquaintances at the New
     York Times and the Daily

     News , and she felt the flames on her face and chest begin
     to recede. He asked about the reason for her visit.

 
    "I'm here on a
     research leave. I study the libraries of British writers. Right
     now, I'm trying to gather information on eighteenth-century
     authors."

 
    "Ah, that
     explains it. I thought you looked a bit like a librarian. A
     couple of times, you wore a white blouse with a cardigan. Put me
     in mind of the librarian in my grammar school."

 
    So he had noticed
     her. She set this aside to ponder later, and replied coolly,
     "Yes, I brought only my dowdiest clothing on this trip. Dressing
     like a librarian tends to prevent unwanted advances from strange
     men. Usually, that is."

 
    He smiled. "Ah,
     but your strategy is all wrong," he said, and leaned forward
     conspiratorially. "A naughty librarian is like catmint for men
     in London."

 
    She laughed at
     the absurdity of the exchange, but also with the pleasure of it.
     Here she was, conducting a flirtation with a virtual stranger.
     This had to be very tame stuff by some people's standards, but
     to her it was exciting. He was exciting, she corrected herself.
     She couldn't imagine having this conversation with any other man
     she knew.

 
    "And the
     librarian in your grammar school. Was she naughty?"

 
    "Very."

 
    Eventually Babur
     brought two checks, without asking whether they wanted dessert.
     "If you live near here, may I walk you to your flat?" he said