“Ginny!”
The delight in his voice sent a delicious shiver down her spine. She waved and tried to find a way to meet his gaze that didn’t betray the letdown of seeing him with another woman.
“Have you met Miss Crantz?” he asked. “She’s your uncle’s new administrator.”
“Oh, yes.” Ginny’s voice lifted with that news flash. “We’ve talked on the phone.”
From the formal way Rick introduced the woman, coupled with the intensity with which he held Ginny’s gaze, Ginny would’ve believed there was nothing between the two, until Miss Crantz swatted his arm in the playful way only close friends do.
“You’d think he was introducing his teacher. We’ve known each other since high school.” She reached out and shook Ginny’s hand. “Please, call me Mary.”
Ginny smiled. At least she hoped it was a smile because she couldn’t think of one intelligent thing to say. And Kim was no help—hanging back, pretending to be absorbed by a text message.
“I’m glad I ran into you,” Rick said in a voice as warm and inviting as hot apple cider on a cold winter’s day.
Mary glanced from Rick to Ginny to Kim and back to Rick. “I think that’s my cue to get going. Thanks for dinner, Duke.”
“I’ve gotta go, too,” Kim chimed in.
Ginny grabbed Kim’s arm. “What about dinner?”
“Uh … I forgot that I promised one of the teens at the detention center that I’d help … uh … dye her hair. Yeah, that’s right, dye her hair. I’m sure Duke will be happy to keep you company,” Kim added with a you-can-thank-me-later lilt.
The one-sided quirk of Rick’s lips made Ginny’s heart cartwheel. She tightened her grip on Kim’s arm. “No, you can’t go.” The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with Rick. “I drove you. Remember?”
Kim waved off the objection. “Not a problem. I can walk. I’m sure you won’t miss me.”
“No, I can’t let—”
Rick tapped her shoulder. “Stay,” he said. “We need to talk.” Except this time his tone didn’t sound so inviting.
FIVE
Rick could’ve high-fived Ginny’s girlfriend for bowing out of her dinner date. Unfortunately, Ginny didn’t look half so pleased.
Her blond hair spilled over her shoulders, and he tried to ignore the stab of longing to tangle his fingers in the silky strands. One glimpse of her sweet smile had reignited the embers he’d been trying to bank for two weeks.
Get a grip, Gray. He was here to figure out how the Harbor Creek fire was connected to Laud, not to fan the flames of his attraction to Ginny.
“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?” she gibed. “Someone might figure out who you really are.”
He reached into his truck and grabbed a blueprint tube. “I’m the foreman of a project you’re fundraising for—no reason for anyone to think there’s ever been more between us.”
She strode toward the door. “No, why would anyone think that?”
Swallowing a rise of remorse, Rick jogged after her.
Unlike the coffee shops he usually frequented, where people kept to themselves, at Hank’s, with its laminated countertops, black-and-white tiled floor and red leather booths, gossip was freely laundered and hung out for everyone to comment on. Tonight, folks chatted about Bob’s new triplets, Owen’s new stake truck and the fire in Harbor Creek.
Earlier, while Mary pushed food around her plate, Rick had eavesdropped on the latest buzz, hoping someone might drop info that would help him fit together the newest piece of the arson puzzle. He’d turned up zilch.
Rick guided Ginny to a table near the back of the room. “I’m sorry I spoiled your dinner plans with your friend.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Ginny neatly avoided brushing past him by taking the long way around the table. “No sacrifice is too big for this project.”
Rick took his seat and figured he’d do well to remember her motto. But when he looked into her eyes, his brain muddled.
“Is this about the saboteur?” she whispered. “Has something else happened?”
“No! No.” Rick slid a blueprint from the tube he’d grabbed and spread the paper on the table as he grappled for a way to steer the conversation to Harbor Creek. “I had an idea I wanted to run by you. Are you familiar with any of your uncle’s other developments?”
She caught the edge of the blueprint before it curled back. “Other developments? We need to talk about the investigation.”
“The police are handling the investigation. We need to focus on the construction.” Before Ginny could do more than bristle at his dictate, Rick redirected the conversation. “What do you think about adding cathedral ceilings to the foyer? Give it a more spacious feel, like the reception area in your uncle’s Harbor Creek complex.”
Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, I love that idea.”
“So you’ve seen the complex I’m talking about?”
“Sure, I wrote the brochures for it, but …” The enthusiastic gleam in her eyes faded. “Are you sure cathedral ceilings aren’t too expensive? Uncle Emile lost money on the Harbor Creek project.”
“Your uncle must’ve recouped his losses by now. Those are high-priced business units in Harbor Creek.”
“Uncle Emile is too city-minded. He thinks if you price a unit high, and make it look ritzy, people will believe they are getting more for their money and gladly pay.”
“You disagree?”
“Only a fraction of the units are rented, which tells me that small-town business owners don’t want showy. They want affordability.”
But if affordable units weren’t available …
What a perfect decoy. Kill his competition’s development and woo the clients to his own. Conjecture of course, but with any luck, plausible enough to convince Drake to let Rick keep digging.
“So do you think the ceiling idea is too expensive?” Ginny said.
Rick pretended to study the blueprints. When he grasped on to the idea he hadn’t expected her to actually approve. “I’ll run the suggestion by your uncle. If we can make it work, I will.” Now, if he could just convince Ginny to talk to him about something other than the project, maybe he could regain a little of her trust.
Rick rolled up the blueprint and handed her one of the menus the waitress had left on the table. “What would you like to eat?”
“Was the ceiling idea your only question?” Ginny’s assertive tone dropped to an uneasy quaver as she perched on the edge of her seat, one hand on her purse. “Because you don’t have to sit through another meal for my sake.”
He reached across the table and touched her hand. “It would be my pleasure.”
The tinge in her cheeks betrayed a whisper of yearning. “I’m sure you have more important—”
Rick gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
A snigger from the booth across the aisle snagged his attention. Vic, a cup of coffee at his lips, tipped a pretend hat.