After the waitress took their drink orders, Amanda propped up her menu and peeped over the top. “They’re having their own class reunion over there. Mmm-mmm, Colin looks better than ever. A few more lines on his face, but the body still looks rock hard. He’s probably older, wiser…and more experienced.”
“He looks…sad.” Michelle shot a few glances at the group, bubbling with laughter and conversation. Colin contributed a word or a smile here and there, but he seemed aloof, separate from the people around him.
“Are you crazy? That’s Colin Roarke you’re talking about—football star, war hero, FBI stud.”
The waitress delivered their drinks and Michelle blew on her hot tea. “Why was he a war hero? What did he do?”
Amanda wrapped her lips around the straw from her soda, staring unabashedly at Colin across the room. “I think you were in Europe on that sabbatical when all the news came through. Taliban forces captured Colin in Afghanistan. He escaped, but…”
Ducking behind her menu, Amanda hissed. “He’s coming.”
Colin strode past their table, a frown creasing his brow. He waved to someone behind the bar and then turned the corner to the restrooms.
“I think he noticed us.” Amanda slapped the menu against the table. “Or at least you. He kept staring over here.”
Michelle scoffed even though she’d felt a jolt when her eyes had met Colin’s. Had he felt it, too? “Aren’t you going to follow him into the bathroom?”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed and she clicked her long fingernails on the side of her glass. “That’s not a bad idea. I could stumble in there and pretend I thought it was the ladies’ room.”
The waitress took their order and apologized for the slow service. “I’m a little overwhelmed tonight.”
When she walked away, Amanda shot a quick glance at herself in the mirror over the bar. “She’s not the only one who’s overwhelmed. I almost swooned when Colin walked past our table.”
Michelle smiled into her tea. Her friend desperately wanted to feel an attraction for anyone other than her estranged husband, but Michelle could see right through her. She nodded toward the tall man striding back into the dining room. “If you were planning on following him, you’re too late.”
Colin crossed the room, running a hand through his short, dark hair. His gait slowed as he approached their table, and Michelle held her breath for some absurd reason. Amanda had infected her with her silliness.
He stalled at their table, and Michelle’s heart jumped. “Excuse me, ladies. Did you both graduate the same year as Tiffany Gunderson?”
Nothing personal, just business. Michelle blew out a breath and answered, since Amanda seemed uncharacteristically tongue-tied. “Yes, we did.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Michelle Girard and this is Amanda Stewart.”
As he clasped her hand in a warm embrace, she noticed scars crisscrossing his wrist. Had the sadness she’d sensed led him to try something crazy?
“Of course I remember you—the girl down the block. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m Colin Roarke.” He released her hand and Michelle had an acute feeling of loss.
He remembered her?
He turned to Amanda. “Stewart? Are you related to Sergeant Ryan Stewart of the Coral Cove P.D.?”
“Married to him.” A soft pink brushed Amanda’s cheeks. “Sort of.”
Colin raised his brows and a crooked smile claimed his mouth. “He’s a good man.”
That smile set into motion a chain of events across Michelle’s body, ending in butterfly wings in her belly. Her unrequited schoolgirl crush had sneaked up on her sensible adult self.
Colin reached into the front pocket of his denim shirt and pulled out two business cards. He slid them onto the table. “I’d like to talk to you about Tiffany while I’m in town. Give me a call.”
Michelle traced the edge of the card with her fingertip. “So Tiffany’s death wasn’t an accident? If not, why aren’t the San Francisco police handling the investigation?”
A spark of interest ignited Colin’s dark blue eyes. “I’d rather not discuss that here. Call me.”
“Hey, Colin. Come over here and set Jeff straight on how that game with Costa ended.”
Colin pinned Michelle with his dusky blue gaze and rolled his eyes. “Nice to…see you again.”
Michelle chewed her bottom lip as Colin ambled back to his high school classmates, their bubbling memories sweeping him back into their circle. The favorite hometown son didn’t wear the label with ease.
“We haven’t been in the joint fifteen minutes and we have his card.” Amanda scooped up the prize and pressed it to her breast.
“Because he wants to ask us questions about Tiffany.” Michelle rubbed her thumb against the embossed letters proclaiming Colin Roarke an FBI agent. “Why do you think the FBI’s involved in an investigation of Tiffany’s death?”
Amanda lifted a bare shoulder. “It happened in the big city. Anything can happen there. At least we have an excuse to call him.”
“How did he know we were in Tiffany’s class and what would we know about her life in San Francisco?”
“Why do you have to analyze everything to death? Just sit back and enjoy, because I swear the man had his eye on you. He even remembered you from the neighborhood.”
Michelle pressed her lips together as the waitress delivered their food. So Amanda had noticed that, too. Michelle hadn’t had much contact with the popular Roarke boys growing up, even though the family had lived down the road. But one scene shifted into focus, and Michelle’s cheeks burned with the memory.
She must’ve been fifteen because it happened shortly after her mother left. Michelle had retreated to her special place on the beach, a semicircle of boulders against the bluff, her own private hideaway. She hadn’t cried about her mother since she’d left, but that day the tears flowed like a river of sadness.
Suddenly, her world grew darker. She’d glanced up at Colin Roarke’s large form hovering at the entrance to her secret fort, blocking out the sun. He must’ve been home from college. He’d been surfing and his wet suit dangled around his hips. He’d asked her if she was okay, and Michelle was pretty sure she’d told him to buzz off.
Colin probably didn’t remember that. Why would he?
“Told you so.” Amanda tapped her fork against Michelle’s water glass. “You have a very satisfied smile on your lips right now. The man is hot and he noticed you.”
Michelle responded by taking a big bite of her burger.
Amanda stabbed a tomato with her fork. “I think I’d better find another friend for cruising—one who’s not tall, thin and gorgeous.”
“Moi?” Michelle choked down her food.
“Don’t moi me. Ever since you got back from Paris, you look more like a fashion model than a high school math teacher.”
Michelle dabbed her lips, hiding the lower half of her face behind her napkin. After Dad died a few years ago and Michelle fled Coral Cove for a summer in Paris, she had stepped up her game a little. She’d even gone out on a few dates, but she’d hardly describe herself as a femme fatale. She’d always shied away from that image because of Mom.
As they ate dinner and chatted around mouthfuls of food, Amanda sent fewer and fewer flirty glances toward the lively group in the corner. She pushed the last bits of lettuce around her plate and dropped her lashes.