They should talk about Jenny.
And they would, of course. Very soon. But really, there was no great hurry. She raised her glass to her lips and sipped more champagne.
A few minutes later, the main course arrived. Filet mignon. Fork-tender. It literally melted in her mouth.
She’d just swallowed the first scrumptious bite when Ross warned in a whisper, “Don’t look now, but I think—yes. She’s spotted us.”
“Who?”
“Lily Mae Wheeler. She’s headed our way. I’ll give you a little free legal advice.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell her anything, unless you want the whole town to know.”
Lynn had no time to reply. Lily Mae was upon them. “My Lord, Lynn Taylor! Honey, I hardly did recognize you.” Lynn smiled gamely up at Whitehorn’s most notorious gossip. “You look sweet as a heifer in a field of new clover. I love your hair.” Copper bracelets jangling, Lily Mae patted her own teased and heavily sprayed coiffure, which was auburn at the moment. “Maybe I should try blond again. What do you think?”
“I do like the auburn,” Lynn said judiciously.
Lily Mae left off patting her hair and patted Lynn’s shoulder instead. “Sweet, sweet girl. You always say just the right thing.” False eyelashes batted Ross’s way. “And hello, Mr. Garrison. How are you this brisk October evening?”
“I’m just fine, Mrs. Wheeler.”
“Enjoying that beautiful new house of yours?”
“I am. Very much.”
“It’s up along Route 17, isn’t it? On Black Bear Lake.”
“Yes.”
“I confess, Winona Cobbs has told me all about it. She has to drive by there to get into town.” Winona Cobbs lived in a trailer out at the end of Route 17. She ran her own peculiar enterprise there known as the Stop ’n Swap. She kept bees and was considered by many to possess psychic powers. She was also almost as big a gossip as Lily Mae.
Lily Mae forged on. “And I heard you’ve been hired by the Kincaid estate.”
“That’s right,” Ross said.
Lily Mae clucked her tongue. “Wasn’t that just a terrible shame—about Wendell? There are many who don’t believe it now, but once, Wendell Hargrove was an honorable man. It was after his dear wife, Alice, died that the trouble started. He just couldn’t cope with the loss. He developed that gambling problem. And then he—well, I suppose you know all of this.”
“I’ve heard the facts, yes.”
“And now you’re representing our Jenny.”
“That’s right.”
“You do a good job for her, now.”
“I will, Mrs. Wheeler. I promise you.”
Lily Mae turned on Lynn again. “Hon, I mean it. Your face. Your hair. That gorgeous dress. I do truly love to see a woman make the most of what she’s got. And when that woman is you, well, all I can say is, it is about time.”
Lynn murmured a thank-you; it seemed the safest way to go.
Lily Mae spotted the ice bucket and the bottle nestled in it. “And what’s this? Champagne?” Her painted-on brows went so high, they threatened to vanish beneath the hard fringe of hair on her forehead. “A special occasion?” She waved a carmine-tipped hand, causing more clattering. “Never mind. Of course it is. It’s always a special occasion when an eligible man and a beautiful single woman enjoy a fine meal together…although I must admit, I had thought—” Lily Mae actually cut herself off. “But never mind about that.”
“About what?” Lynn asked, regretting the question immediately.
But Lily Mae surprised her. “Oh, nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing, and Lynn knew it. She could see the truth in Lily Mae’s over-made-up eyes. The sweet-hearted gossip knew that Trish was after Ross. How could she not know? Who other than Lily Mae would Trish have been pumping for information about the new lawyer in town?
“Really, hon. It was nothing at all,” Lily Mae repeated. “Sometimes I do run on, and that is a plain fact.” Then she chuckled. “And now I am going to leave you. I’ve a dear friend in town from Billings for the night. She’s in the Ladies right now. I’ll tell you what, I won’t even interrupt you again to introduce her, because I can see that the two of you want to be alone.”
Lynn opened her mouth to protest that remark, but Ross caught her eye before she spoke. She read his look: What’s the point?
She had to agree with him. Lily Mae Wheeler would think what she wanted to think. And anything Lynn said to her would only give her an excuse to stay and chat longer.
“Enjoy those filets,” said Lily Mae. “Don’t they just turn right to butter inside your mouth?”
“Yes,” Lynn agreed. “They’re delicious.”
With a last jingling wave, Lily Mae trotted off.
Ross watched her go. After a moment, he said, “You’ll be relieved to know the hostess is leading her to a table in the far corner, behind a pillar. She won’t be flashing all those capped teeth and shaking her bracelets at us through the rest of the meal, after all.”
Lynn felt she had to speak up on Lily Mae’s behalf. “She has a good heart.”
Ross shook his head. “But we’ll be an ‘item’ by tomorrow. When she gets to her regular table at the Hip Hop and starts spreading the news.”
And what will Trish say when she hears?
Lynn decided not to think about that. It would work out. She’d explain to her sister that they’d needed to talk about Jenny. Which was the truth.
Ross picked up his fork again. “It doesn’t matter, does it, what Lily Mae Wheeler thinks or says? We know the real situation, after all. And it’s not as if we’ve been caught doing anything but enjoying a meal together.”
Their eyes met. She sighed. “You’re right. There’ll be a little talk. And then, when we don’t see each other again, the talk will die down.”
“Right.” He said the word very low. And then, for several nerve-racking seconds, he said nothing more, only looked at her, making her pulse pound too fast and her face feel overly warm.
At last he shrugged. “Being talked about is the price you pay for living in a town like Whitehorn, where everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
“Exactly.” Carefully she cut a bite of meat and slipped the delicious morsel between her lips.
Ross watched her. He liked watching her. Liked it way too much.
Yes. Too much. Those were the operative words here. He liked watching her too much, was enjoying himself too much.
He should call a halt right now.
This was not going to go anywhere. Lynn Taylor might seem a temptress tonight, but he knew damn well that she was an innocent at heart.
She didn’t want what he wanted, which was to sit here for another hour or so and look at her some more. To listen to her slightly throaty voice, to catch an occasional whiff of that enticing perfume she wore.
Then, when they’d lingered over the meal for much longer than they should have, he wanted to take her home. To his bed. Where he would enjoy her all the more.
Until the night was over. At which time, he would want her to go back to her own life and leave him to his.
And