“It wasn’t fascinating. It was exasperating.” And maybe just a little surprising, when she thought about how gently he’d held her when she’d suffered another one of those disconcerting panic attacks. “Stop trying to make something out of me running into Cordell.”
If anything, Maggie only looked more amused. “Where did the two of you cross paths? The grocery store, perhaps? On the street?”
“Back out at his place,” Dinah admitted defensively. “And don’t even go there. I can see that you want to make something out of that, but I went back to look for Bobby. Period.”
“I was merely going to comment that you seem to be making yourself at home out there,” Maggie teased.
“I’ve been there twice,” Dinah replied impatiently. Then, since Maggie didn’t seem to be buying it, she added emphatically, “Both times looking for Bobby.”
“Has it occurred to you yet that you’re looking for him in the wrong place?”
Dinah stared at her in sudden confusion. “What do you mean? He lives there, doesn’t he?”
“Usually,” Maggie said.
Dinah bit back a groan. “What does that mean? Please don’t tell me he’s living right here in town.”
“Actually you might have better luck finding him in Atlanta,” Maggie admitted with apparent reluctance.
“Atlanta? What on earth is he doing in Atlanta?” She frowned at Maggie. “And don’t tell me you don’t know because I can tell that you do. It’s time to start spilling some information, Maggie, or I’m going to have to wonder if you’re not as anxious as Cord is to keep the two of us apart. He has a history of it. You don’t.”
Maggie sighed. “You’re really not going to drop this whole ridiculous notion you have about getting together with Bobby, are you?”
“No. At least not till I’ve spoken to him and he tells me that he wants no part of what we used to have.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Okay, he’s over in Atlanta working.”
“Permanently?”
“No. He’s been handling a project over there for a while now, a few months at least.”
“Why the hell didn’t Cord just tell me that?” Dinah grumbled, the scowled at Maggie. “Why didn’t you?”
“I just did.”
“You could have mentioned it the other day. I could have seen him in Atlanta by now.”
“What would have been the fun in that?” Maggie asked. “I’ve already told you that I think you’re wasting your time on Bobby. Personally, I like the idea of you and Cord butting up against each other and setting off sparks for a while. I think it’s just what you need.”
“I don’t,” Dinah replied emphatically. “So just tell me what you know. How can I reach Bobby in Atlanta? Do you suppose he’s renting someplace? Or is he staying in a hotel?”
Maggie shrugged. “I have no idea. You could ask Cord.”
Dinah frowned at the suggestion. “I am done asking Cordell anything at all.”
Maggie’s lips twitched. “Is that because you don’t like the answers he’s giving you or because you’re starting to like the fireworks a little too much?”
Dinah regarded her friend impatiently. “You really need to get a life.”
“Probably so,” Maggie agreed readily. “But until I do, I’m happy to meddle in yours.”
“Stop it,” Dinah pleaded. “Especially if you have some insane notion that Cord and I are the perfect match.”
“Maybe not perfect,” Maggie said thoughtfully. “But darn close, and definitely hot.”
Dinah gave her a helpless look. “You’ve never even seen us together. What makes you think there is anything hot between us?”
“Oh, sweetie,” Maggie said, laughter in her eyes, “even if a woman would have to be dead not to react to Cord, it’s written all over your face every time you mention his name. The man ties you up in knots.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dinah scoffed, then hesitated. Much as she hated to admit it, Maggie did know her well. “What do you think you see when I mention Bobby?”
“Comfortable,” Maggie said at once.
“Perfect,” Dinah said happily. “Comfortable is exactly what I’m after.”
“Maybe so, but it’s not what’s best for you and it is definitely not what will make you happy, not for the long haul.”
“And you know that because?”
“Because I’ve known you all your life and I know your deepest, darkest secrets. Cordell Beaufort was always the one who made your heart pound.”
“Only because he infuriated me,” Dinah snapped. “Which you are starting to do, as well.”
Maggie merely laughed. “Because you know I’m right. Now that we’ve established that, let’s talk about dinner. Are you free tonight?”
So she could listen to more of Maggie’s absurd theories?
Not a chance, Dinah thought. “I’m busy tonight,” she said.
“Doing what? Trying to track down Bobby?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. If he doesn’t have a number listed with information, I will call every hotel in Atlanta till I find him,” she said with grim determination. Maggie and Cord might be totally opposed to this, but she knew what she needed and it was Bobby Beaufort. “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to work the phones to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to ask Cord?” Maggie repeated.
“Been there, done that,” Dinah reminded her. “Whatever his reasons, Cord doesn’t seem inclined to share what he knows.”
Besides, if there was any chance at all that Maggie might have it exactly right about her attraction to Cordell, Dinah needed to keep the contact between them to a minimum. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by something that didn’t have a chance of turning into anything more than a wild, no doubt self-destructive fling.
The minute Dinah got home she headed straight for her father’s den. He kept all sorts of phone books around. There was bound to be one for Atlanta. The bank probably did a lot of business there.
She was sitting on the antique Aubusson carpet, pulling phone books out of a credenza and piling them haphazardly on the floor, when Maybelle came in.
“What on earth are you doing in here?” the housekeeper demanded, looking dismayed. “Besides making a mess of your daddy’s stuff, that is. You know how he likes everything in order. Never known a man to be so set in his ways.”
Dinah grimaced. Maybelle was right about that. When he noticed them at all, Marshall Davis liked his life and his surroundings to be orderly.
“I’ll put it all back,” Dinah promised, then grinned. “How many times do you suppose you came in here and had to set things to rights before Daddy came home and pitched a fit?”
“Once a day from the time you could walk,” Maybelle responded at once, a tolerant smile on her face at the memory.
“And how many times did he find me out, anyway?”
“Most every one,” Maybelle said, grinning. “That daddy of yours surely did dote on you, though. If your mother or me got so much as a paper clip out of place in here, he’d raise the roof. If it was Tommy Lee, he’d