LITMIR.BIZ

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wouldn’t give to have Alex toss even a hint of a smile in her direction.

      She reached for a plastic to-go lid. “Why not?” she said, smiling back. “Breakfast sounds nice.”

      She got back to Nuttingwood far later than planned. Tom turned out to be pleasant company: charming, talkative, entertaining. A tad pompous but nice enough. He described himself as a social gadfly, doing a little bit of everything. “You know,” he’d said when she asked, “a freelance project here, a blog article there.”

      In other words, he was rich enough that he didn’t need to work.

      When they parted company, he insisted on taking her cell phone number and made no bones about wanting to see her again. Had she been in New York, maybe she’d consider the offer, but here, under the circumstances, she wasn’t so sure.

      And her reluctance had nothing to do with her antisocial boss, she insisted to herself. Even if she did spend a good portion of the meal wondering what sharing breakfast with Alex would be like.

      True to form, Alex was nowhere to be found when she returned, but Puddin’ was. Someone had left the garden door unlatched and the cat had ensconced himself quite comfortably on her desk chair.

      “And I thought I was pushing my luck,” she said. “You know that nine lives thing is a myth, right?”

      Puddin’ rolled onto his back, exposing his belly.

      “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a negative checking balance.” She’d made an extra large payment this month. It drained her account, leaving her barely enough to cover expenses. And Grandma Rosie’s debt still loomed as mountainous as ever.

      So while Puddin’ might be willing to risk Alex’s wrath, Kelsey wasn’t. She needed this job.

      “Sorry, pal, but I used up my defiance last night.” Since Puddin’ didn’t care to cooperate by moving on his own, she gathered him in her arms. “Now,” she said, walking outside and setting him gently on the stone terrace, “why don’t you go find a nice bush to sleep under before the boss sees you.”

      “Too late.” Alex appeared out of nowhere, brandishing a walking stick.

      How on earth did he manage to sneak up on her like that? It was like he really was some kind of ghost. He glowered at Puddin’, who appeared unimpressed.

      “That thing’s still here, I see.”

      “Good morning to you too,” she replied. In addition to his specter-like approach, he managed to look uncommonly good this morning. Those khaki shorts and hiking shirt suited him way more than Tom. Probably, she stole a glance at his toned calves, because he actually hiked. “And this ‘thing’ has a name. Puddin’.”

      “You named a stray cat?”

      “Even strays deserve an identity.” She knelt down to scratch Puddin’s head. “Everyone wants to know they matter a little bit.”

      “As long as you don’t mislead them or make them think they mean more than they do.”

      “Because they might get too comfortable.”

      “Or burned.”

      Were they still talking about the cat? No longer sure, Kelsey fell silent, letting the sound of Puddin’s purring fill the void.

      “Where did you go this morning?”

      “Are you keeping tabs on me?”

      “I saw you drive away.”

      Kelsey wasn’t sure if she should resent or be flattered by the close attention. “I had some errands to run in town,” she replied.

      “Errands.”

      “Yes.” She did know she resented the skeptical way he repeated the word. “You know, post office, grocery store … Farley had fresh baked apricot turnovers. I brought back some if you’re interested.”

      Alex appeared to be only half listening, too busy was he rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes were half-closed, and he twisted his head back and forth like it needed loosening.

      “Stiff neck?” Kelsey asked.

      Naturally he gave her a suspicious look. “Why do you ask?”

      “You’re rubbing your neck same as you were last night. I made the assumption.”

      “You shouldn’t make assumptions.”

      “And you shouldn’t rub your neck so hard if you don’t want people to make them.”

      Her comment earned a grimace. “I have a headache. Nothing I can’t manage.”

      “Are you sure?” Upon closer inspection, she could see dark circles under his eyes and that his normally ruddy skin had a slight pallor. The sight kicked her maternal instincts into gear. Without realizing, she reached out to feel his forehead. His skin was cool and smooth. Touching it made the pads of her fingers tingle. “Did you take anything?”

      “I’m fine.” His expression remained guarded, but a note of tightness managed to creep into his voice. It was that note that drew her closer.

      And closer. Until she’d practically eliminated the space between them. Her hand was still brushing his forehead. “You look pale,” she murmured.

      “You don’t need to be concerned.”

      “I know I don’t have to. Maybe I—”

      The low sound of jazz music interrupted. Her phone. As expected, the moment the song rang out, Alex backed away leaving her hand hovering in the air. Balling her still tingling fingers into a fist, she reached into her skirt pocket with the other and fished out the phone.

      “Frutti de Mar.”

      Between the static and the non sequitur, it took her a moment before she recognized the voice. “Tom?”

      “Looks like I made as good an impression as I thought.”

      “We parted company less than an hour ago. Kind of hard not to remember.”

      She turned her back. Feeling Alex’s probing stare burning holes in her spine, she tried her best to sound casual. “What can I do for you?”

      “I told you. Frutti de Mar. Best gourmet seafood around, at least for this area. I find myself with a table for two and only one chair filled. I was hoping you could fill the other.”

      “You want to have dinner? Tonight?”

      From the corner of her eye, she saw Alex walk away, their moment from before a distant memory.

      If there had even been a moment. She could have imagined the whole thing. Just like last night’s spark in the dark.

      Or the way she was imagining the air cooling with his departure.

      “Seven o’clock okay?”

      “What?” Her attention had been on the man disappearing into the trees.

      “For dinner. Does seven o’clock work for you?”

      “I, uh …” It’s not like she had any other plans. Tom was a nice guy. A pleasant guy who wanted to take her out to a fancy restaurant for dinner. But for some reason, she couldn’t work up the interest.

      Her eyes drifted back to the tree line. “Can I take a rain check?”

      She’d give him credit. The rejection barely fazed him. “Sure. But so you know, I have every intention of holding you to it. We will have dinner one of these nights.”

      “If you say so.” But she already knew she’d turn down the next invitation as well.

      They talked for a few more minutes, basically polite chatter so her refusal didn’t feel too unfriendly, before Kelsey went to work. For the next few hours she immersed herself in transcription until her brain

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