Never Too Late for Love. Marie Ferrarella

back?” he echoed uncertainly. It wasn’t a question he expected to be asked. Just what was it this woman had in mind?

      “Yes.” The casual clothes he had on strongly reinforced the impression she’d gotten at the reception when she’d danced with him. The man looked to be made of solid muscle. But not all shortcomings were evident to the eye. “No old football injuries or anything?”

      He turned, watching her as she circled him. “I never played football.”

      That was hard to believe. Margo came full circle to face him again. “How about baseball?”

      “A little.” She was making him uneasy. It was time to find out where she was headed with this conversation. “Margo, what are you getting at, and should we be having this conversation in front of people?” He glanced toward Joyce who looked about as lost as to Margo’s meaning as he felt.

      Joy was far too slight to be of any use to her at the moment. “Joyce isn’t people, she’s like another daughter.” Her smile was wicked as she read his thoughts. “And besides, I’m only trying to find out if you’re up to moving some furniture for me, not any acrobatics in bed.”

      “Furniture?” Was that it? Relief reared its head, but there were questions on its heels. One question brought with it interest sharp enough to give him pause. “Are you moving back to the area?”

      Her mind busy with logistics and phone calls she had yet to make, it took Margo a second to regroup and assimilate the direction his question was going. “Oh, no, I never take furniture with me. It ties you down too much.” Her attachments were to places, to friends, not to anything that could be stored in a building or a box. “Whatever I own is right upstairs.” She raised her eyes toward the ceiling. “I lived with Aunt Elaine while Melanie was growing up. When my career began to take me to different places, I just left everything behind. It’s much easier that way.”