“We had a good crowd again. I had multiple compliments on the sleight-of-hand artist, so I’m going to talk to him about performing at least a couple of weekends a month.”
“Oh, knucklehead, I don’t care about that! Tell me about the cute guy. Did he come in again? Did you find out anything about him? Was he wearing a wedding ring?”
“Who?” Emma asked, playing coy.
“Don’t tease me. You know who I’m talking about. Blue eyes and a fine set of shoulders. The one you’ve been sighing over all week.”
“I was not sighing over him.”
“Aha, so you do know who I’m talking about.”
“Mmm, I might vaguely remember a fine set of shoulders.”
She remembered them, all right. And the beautiful eyes. He’d had a nice smile, too, with a dimple on the left side of his mouth that showed when he laughed.
“Did you talk to him?” Abby asked.
“For a few minutes. I told him my spaghetti joke, and he thought it was funny.”
“Lord have mercy. Rope and tie that one before he gets away.”
“He’s from Michigan. Vacation.”
“Oh, no!”
“He’s probably already on his way home.”
“Well, bummer. The good ones are always tourists.”
WHIT TIMED HIS ARRIVAL to avoid the busy lunch hour. He didn’t wait to be announced. While the hostess seated customers, he wandered down the hall past the gift shop and the rest rooms to where he assumed the offices would be.
He carried a camera, just in case Susan Wright went for his idea. And if she didn’t, the miniature camera concealed in the sunglasses sticking out of his shirt pocket would do.
The woman sat alone at a desk in the last office on the right, head bent over a book. She read under her breath.
“If Mary buys three cans of beets on sale at five for a dollar, and Fred buys four cans of beets for twenty cents each but has a coupon for ten cents, which one got the better deal?” She snorted. “Well that’s easy. Neither. Nobody in their right mind eats beets.”
Whit chuckled. She looked up…and blushed.
The waiter had described Susan as “average” looking. She wasn’t. “Damned pretty” was more accurate. He’d also been wrong about the bodysuit and padded parts. Her parts were fine just the way they were.
“Can I help you?” she asked, closing the book.
“Susan Wright?”
“Yes.” She stood.
He walked over to the desk. “Whitaker Lewis. We talked briefly last night. You were kind enough to buy my dinner.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I wanted to thank you, and to say how much I enjoyed your performance as Marilyn. Your Cleopatra and Dorothy were great, too.”
She cocked her head and smiled, changing from “damned pretty” to “beautiful.”
“How did you…?”
“The scar on your elbow gave you away.”
“Ah.” She rubbed it. “You’re very observant.”
“And you’re very talented.”
“Thank you.”
“Look, I apologize for barging in like this. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” He glanced down at the book title: Algebra With An Introduction To Trigonometry.
She bent and put the textbook in a drawer. “No, you’re not.”
“I have a confession to make. I asked my waiter about you last night. He said you’re no longer married.”
That statement seemed to fluster her. “No, my husband died several years ago. Why?”
“I was wondering—would you like to take a walk? I haven’t had much of a chance to look around the town since I’ve been here. Seeing it with a beautiful woman would be better than seeing it on my own.”
She blushed more deeply. Her face was now the color of the beets she found so disgusting.
“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Lewis?”
“Trying to, Mrs. Wright, but apparently not doing a very good job of it.”
“I appreciate the compliment and the invitation, but I don’t really know you. I don’t go out with men I don’t know.”
“I promise I’m a nice man.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“My only major vice is being spoiled rotten all my life by three older sisters.”
She smiled at that. “I wouldn’t call that a vice, but rather a lovely way to grow up.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“No, unfortunately, I was an only child.”
“There were times I’d have given anything to be an only child. Now I realize how fortunate I am.”
“Yes, you are.”
“If I can’t interest you in a walk, how about a very public cruise around the bay?”
She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she might say yes. But then she shook her head.
Whit scratched his jaw. God, he was rusty at this. Okay, the lady wasn’t interested. He obviously hadn’t made much of an impression on her last night or today. He should take his photos, excuse himself and be done with it. But to his chagrin, he found he didn’t want to.
He was about to try again when someone came in.
“Oh, Susan, I forgot—”
Whit turned. The woman stopped short. She had wild red hair and more freckles than he’d ever seen on one person.
“Well, hi there.” She grinned widely and extended her hand. Whit shook it. “Abby Townsend. I’m a friend of Susan’s.”
“Whitaker Lewis.”
“Michigan, right?”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise and glanced at Susan Wright. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yes, Lansing.”
“What type of business are you in, Mr. Lewis?”
“Insurance.”
“And is there a Mrs. Lewis?”
“Abby!” Susan sighed with exasperation. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lewis. I’m sure you didn’t come here to be interrogated.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind, especially if it’ll make you feel more comfortable about me.” He turned back to Abby to explain. “I’ve been trying to convince Mrs. Wright to join me on a short boat ride around the bay this afternoon, but she said no.”
“Oh, Susan, why not go?” Abby asked. “It sounds like such fun. You were telling me only the other day how you hadn’t taken time to enjoy any of the city’s historic attractions. Here’s your chance.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“Of course you did.” Abby winked at Whit.
Susan pointed at the door. “Abby—out.”
Abby wiggled her fingers at Whit and mouthed “good luck” before making her exit.
Whit