LITMIR.BIZ

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      He shook his head. “Never mind.”

      She waited a moment more, then shrugged. “I never was any good at being diffident.”

      Feigning disbelief, he said, “I don’t believe that.”

      She returned his smile. “It’s just the way I am, and I stopped trying to change myself long ago. But I like you, so I hope you’re not so offended you won’t want to see me again.”

      “It’ll take some getting used to, but I’ll manage.” What a fabrication, he thought. Get used to her? She fascinated him. “Now, about lunch? Can we order something in?”

      She accepted his change of topic with a smile. “I’ll run down to Take a Break. Eliza will fix us up something. Do you have anything particular in mind?”

      “Whatever you’re getting is fine.” Brent reached in his pocket to pull out his wallet. Shadow grabbed his hand.

      “It’ll be my treat.” He started to object, and she added with a frown, “I insist.”

      Brent paused, then went for a compromise. “All right. But only if you agree to let me buy you dinner. Tonight.”

      “I still don’t know you that well—”

      “You can pick the restaurant. Surely there must be someplace local where you’d feel comfortable.”

      She frowned in thought for so long, he said, “I didn’t ask you to solve the question of world peace, Shadow.”

      She finally nodded. “All right.”

      “Such a concession,” he teased, noting her wariness. “What time do you get off tonight? I’ll pick you up.”

      “No. I’ll meet you at Reba’s in the mall. About seven?”

      “I have a feeling that knowing you will be a constant tug-of-war over control.” He touched her cheek, felt how soft and warm she was, and shook his head. “If I say one thing are you always going to say another?”

      Shadow stilled, her bow dangling from her fingertips. “I wasn’t aware,” she said slowly, “that you were angling for control.”

      Careful, Brent warned himself. She was brazen, but she was also noticeably skittish. “Right now,” he said with a smile, “all I’m angling for is lunch.”

      She looked at him hard and evidently came to a few favorable conclusions. With a jaunty salute, she said, “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

      Rather than sit, Brent wandered around her office after she’d gone. It was small, no more than ten feet square, with a large desk, two extra chairs and a filing cabinet. She had a window and door that opened to the back alley, and on the sill were several small planters. His business card rested in the center of her desk. There was also a greeting card of sorts, and without any guilt, Brent picked it up to investigate.

      It was from her secret admirer.

      That amused him, thinking it was probably some young, inexperienced kid hoping to gain her favor. The words inside, written in a bold, masculine scrawl, were brief, stating only that she was basically “wonderful” and that her young swain was “deeply affectionate.”

      Brent wondered if Shadow was as open with all men as she’d been with him. He didn’t like to think so, but that would explain some young pup thinking himself in love with her. She was the type of woman to turn any man’s head, but especially someone inexperienced and vulnerable.

      Brent was sitting in one of the chairs, his coat beneath him to protect the seat’s floral fabric, when Shadow returned. She had a pot of coffee, two mugs and a large white sack of foodstuffs. Brent sniffed, then smiled appreciatively. “It smells good, whatever it is.”

      “Ham and cheese stuffed croissants with pasta salad. I’m not certain what flavor the coffee is, but we’ll find out soon enough.”

      Shadow served up all the food, poured Brent some coffee, then settled back in her own chair. He had only enough time for three bites before she pulled out an entry form for the contest. “We can fill this out while you eat.”

      Brent eyed the form with distaste. “I don’t know, Shadow. I’m not much for contests.”

      “Nonsense. You know you’re attractive, and you don’t strike me as being particularly shy. I still need three more men, and quite frankly, I’m getting tired of soliciting them on my own.”

      He froze in midchew.

      “Ah, I didn’t mean that quite the way it sounded.”

      Brent took a gulp of coffee. It was, unbelievably, flavored with orange and some spice that burned his tongue. “Do you mean to tell me,” he asked with incredulity, “that you have approached other men just as you did me?”

      “Well, maybe not exactly the same.” She winced a little. “You’re the only man who was alone. Here, I’ll show you.” She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file. Within seconds, she had seven photographs, contest entries attached, spread out on the desk.

      Brent was curious, no doubt about that. He leaned forward to survey each picture.

      “This is Guy Donovan,” she said. “His wife, Annie, made him enter.”

      “Couldn’t he have at least combed his hair?”

      “Annie likes his hair that way.” Shadow slid another photo toward him. “This is her brother Daniel.”

      “He looks serious.”

      “Oh, he is. He’s a doctor. His wife, Lace, tried to get him to show his chest for the photo, but he can be stubborn.”

      “Who’s this guy?” Brent asked, none too pleased with the photo of a dark man wearing a devil’s smile.

      Shadow laughed. “That’s Max. He’s a rascal, and he was all for taking off his shirt, but his wife, Maddie, refused. She threatened to get her own picture taken—the same way—if he dared do that. He’s Annie’s brother, too.”

      “You know these people well?” It seemed to Brent she was overly familiar with other women’s husbands.

      “I met them through Bea. She’s the lady who creates a lot of the slogans for the clothes for me. When I was new here, Bea brought them all in to meet me. Now we’re friends.”

      A bit relieved, Brent asked, “Was your secret admirer one of the men who entered, do you think?”

      “Actually, I was wondering about that.” She turned the remaining photos around. “The young man here is Chad Moreland. He’s a pharmacist close by. Friendly but shy. These two older gentlemen are brothers, Dean and Frank Stiles. They own a vet clinic on the next block and they’re so funny they make my sides ache. And this stud,” she added, laughing, “is Ricardo. He does the landscaping for the strip mall. He’s an outrageous flirt, too.”

      “Do you think he’d send you gifts?”

      “Ricardo? Naw, he’s right there in your face with his compliments.”

      Brent felt a slow simmer of annoyance. “You’re saying he comes on to you?”

      She lifted one shoulder. “He comes on to everyone female. Young and old. It’s just his way.”

      Brent didn’t like hearing that, even though it was really none of his business. “What about the others?”

      “They’re all just nice guys as far as I know. I can’t see any of them doing this.” She indicated the card on her desk. “Not only did I receive a card and candy, but for the last two nights I’ve gotten breather phone calls. You know the type—you say ‘hello’ and no one answers. I hate that. Though I know it’s nothing, just a prank, it still makes me nervous.”

      Which proved

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