After another moment’s hesitation, Noah thrust out his hand. “Deal.”
Relief flowed over Cliff’s face. Even his hair seemed to relax. He clasped Noah’s hand. “Deal. You take Sabrina to dinner, then bring her by the house. My flight gets in around ten, but Mona wants you two there at nine sharp. I’ll tell Sabrina Mona’s going to Boca with me and we won’t be back until Sunday. You can say you’re feeding the dog.”
“Dog?” Noah narrowed his gaze. “That German shepherd wannabe who hates men?”
Cliff blinked. “Opal is part shepherd, and she doesn’t hate all men. She’s gotten used to me. She’s just protective of Mona. Anyway, you won’t have to deal with her.”
“Right.” With a nod, Noah moved toward the door.
“Wait.”
Noah stopped, then turned back toward his partner. Cliff paused, staring hard at him. “There’s something else you need to know about Sabrina. She isn’t the kind of woman you’re accustomed to.”
“Right. You already told me. She’s the romantic type. Don’t worry, I’ll take her someplace nice.”
“Good.” Cliff’s jaw bunched. “But that isn’t what I’m getting at.”
Noah drew an impatient breath. “So what are you saying?”
A cool warning slipped into Cliff’s gaze. “I’m saying…she’s a virgin. And I want her to stay that way.”
SABRINA WALKER GROANED. She yanked the wall calendar from its place beside an old fuse box and stared at the big squares representing the days of the week, zeroing in on the upcoming Friday. The thirteenth. This Friday was the thirteenth. What kind of day was that to have a birthday?
“This is a bad omen, Walker,” she murmured to herself. “A very bad omen.” The depression that had hovered over her for months descended. Everyone she knew was engaged or married and working on the second or third child.
Everyone but her.
She plopped into the rickety desk chair she’d picked up secondhand to go with the metal desk she’d inherited when she bought this bookstore four years ago. After a minute of searching through the pile of catalogs and order sheets on her desk, she unearthed the phone. She punched in a number, then waited through three rings.
“Hello?” Bess Anderson, her best friend, answered.
“Life is passing me by, Bess.”
“Sabrina?”
“I know I vowed at sixteen to wait for The One, but I thought I’d find love by now.” Sabrina twisted the phone cord around her finger. “I’m in a rut. I’m sitting here and nothing is going on in my life. There’s no one to greet me at the end of the day.” She swallowed. “No hope of having a child.”
“Aw, Bree…you can borrow one of mine, or how about all three?” One of Bess’s daughters shrieked in the background. “Excuse me a minute.” The phone made a clunking sound, then Bess yelled for her offspring to quiet. “Sorry,” she said as she came back on the line.
Sabrina’s finger purpled. “All I need is a jump start.”
“Tom has this new guy working for him—”
“I’m seriously thinking of going for it—”
“Really? Great, we’ll have you both over—”
“Popping the cork, losing the old cherry—”
“What?”
“Maybe it’s time I lost my virginity. Had a fling. Walked on the wild side.” Sabrina squared her jaw. Saying the words out loud sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through her. She pulled her finger free, shaking the blood back into it.
“Now, hon, who is he? You’re not going to do anything hasty, are you?”
Sabrina laughed. “I’ve been celibate for nearly twenty-five years. What’s hasty about that?”
“You know what I mean. Who is he? Do you love him? Why haven’t—”
“I don’t know who he is, or will be. The way I feel, the next available male I come across might get lucky.”
“Sabrina?” Toby Baxter, a high school student she’d hired to work afternoons, poked his head around the office door. “Could you cover the front? I’ve got to take a leak.”
“Sure, Toby. Just a minute.”
He smiled his thanks, then withdrew.
Grimacing, Sabrina turned back to the phone. “Okay, well, maybe the next available male.”
“Look, Sabri—”
“I’ve gotta go. Thanks for helping sort this out, Bess.”
“Wait, don’t—”
She hung up. Nothing Bess could say would change her mind. Besides, Bess was no paragon of knowledge. Look at the mess she’d made of her own life. Sabrina sighed and shook her head.
Poor Bess. At sixteen, they’d cried together when she discovered she’d gotten pregnant by Tommy Anderson, her first “real” boyfriend. To Sabrina’s horror, Bess, with her runway model looks, tossed aside her future in high couture to marry Tom and have his baby.
Nine years and three children later, Bess was still stuck in Atlanta, still stuck with Tom. Sabrina’s heart twisted. Sure Bess loved her kids, but what a life she could have had. How many nights had they stayed up planning her career as a high fashion model, her New York apartment and her picture on the cover of Vogue?
Sabrina stood. For herself, all she’d ever wanted was a career, a husband who loved and appreciated her, and children. Professionally, she was doing exactly what she wanted, but her personal life was lacking. Sure, she’d dated, always on the search for The One. Bess’s tragedy had taught her not to settle for less. Unfortunately, it never took long to realize when a man wasn’t The One, so her relationships tended to fizzle before developing into anything serious.
With one last glare at the calendar, she pushed away from her desk. Friday the thirteenth! Of all the days to have a birthday!
She paused at her office door. She needed to do something to get out of her funk. Closing her eyes, she imagined herself basking in the sun along crystal-white sand. That was it! She’d go to her favorite resort in Destin, Florida, and treat herself to her own birthday celebration.
As she pushed through into the shop, her mind raced with the list of things she had to do to prepare for the trip—make sure the store was covered, call the resort and schedule her flight. With luck, she’d have everything set by the end of the day.
The resolve firm in her mind, she went to relieve Toby. The front door of the shop stood open, catching the May breeze. Sunlight flooded the row of floor-to-ceiling windows that graced the shop’s front. Plants hung in baskets near the windows, and topped the many bookcases, lending a cool touch of green. The brassy strains of jazz drifted from overhead speakers.
With a sound of relief, Toby raced for the back room, leaving the small bookstore empty, except for Sabrina and Libby Conrad, one of their regulars. A flowered scarf held Libby’s dyed red curls back from her face. She stretched to reach a high shelf in one of the many bookcases.
“Need help?” Sabrina asked.
With a wave of her hand, the older woman dismissed her. “Don’t mind me, dear. I’m fine. I know you’ve got work to do.”
Sabrina smiled a small smile. She