caught staring? Lark looked so beautiful today. Luminous dark hair and eyes that could wake a guy up in the morning better than any shot of espresso. Better than anything, in fact. He’d better not drift any further down that road. Dangerous territory. What had she said? Or had he been talking?
“So are you taking me to the company party to please Zeta?” Lark looked vulnerable as well as cute.
“No,” Everett said. “I’m taking you to please myself.” Was that egotistical?
“Sounds like an honest answer.” Lark smiled as she walked to the door. “But I think Zeta railroaded you, so if you want to back out, here’s your last chance.”
“I don’t want to back out,” Everett said. “Relaxation tends to be at the bottom of my to-do list, but I really do want some fresh air. . .with you. Maybe you can teach me how to breathe again.” Did those words actually come out of his mouth? Maybe there really was a romantic heart beating inside him.
Lark looked over at the corner of the living room where his mother’s piano sat with the lid down. Then she smiled at him. “I guess I should go.”
Everett opened the door for her, but he didn’t want Lark to leave. He wanted to keep listening to whatever she had to say about anything. Her voice had a gentle ebb and flow to it like an ocean’s tide. But duty called, especially since Zeta had brought the new files to add to his project.
“I’ll pick you up at six thirty. Is that okay?” Everett asked.
“Yes.” Lark stepped over the threshold, but when she turned back around, they were suddenly standing close.
“I look forward to this evening,” Everett whispered.
Lark blushed when she looked at him.
The rosy color looked so good on her cheeks, he wanted to kiss the very spot he’d made warm by his words. In fact, what fragrance did she wear? Some expensive perfume, no doubt. “Okay.” If he were being drugged by the scent, he knew he wouldn’t put up a fight.
“Okay,” Lark said.
Everett walked her home, which took all of two minutes, and then he settled into his office assimilating Zeta’s file into his project like a good little accountant. Suddenly, he wondered if he could get by with a suit for the party or if he was expected to wear a tux. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d worn his tux. The goofy thing probably didn’t even fit anymore. Did his sedan have enough gas? And what about flowers? Was he supposed to buy a corsage for Lark, or did that practice go out with the high school prom?
Everett looked over at Lark’s office window. He couldn’t see her because the sun’s brightness had darkened the view inside. He tugged on the ribbon on the mothballs instead, hoping Lark was having just as much trouble concentrating as he was. In fact, what could she be up to right this minute?
Nine
Lark went back to her sketchbook and then switched on her French language CD. “Bon soir!” she repeated after the teacher. She chuckled. Who am I kidding? She couldn’t smother the anticipation she felt about the coming evening. Work suddenly felt like going through the motions, but she still tried to concentrate on her charcoal drawing. Half an hour later on the last bit of shading, the doorbell rang.
Everett? Hope he didn’t change his mind. Lark flung the door open to find Jeremy standing before her looking ruggedly attractive in his ponytail and scruffy jeans. But then he always looked that way—like he’d just gotten back from bungee jumping in the Grand Canyon. “Welcome! Soyez le bienvenu! ”
“Thank you. Guess you’re working on those French language tapes again.” Jeremy rubbed his chin, which seemed to have a perpetual five o’clock shadow.
Lark leaned against the doorframe. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thanks, but I’d better get going.”
But you just arrived. Lark blinked hard. “You look sort of expectant.”
“Boy, I hope not.” Jeremy gave her a smirk.
“I mean, did I forget something?” A
“So are you taking me to the company party to please Zeta?” Lark looked vulnerable as well as cute.
“No,” Everett said. “I’m taking you to please myself.” Was that egotistical?
“Sounds like an honest answer.” Lark smiled as she walked to the door. “But I think Zeta railroaded you, so if you want to back out, here’s your last chance.”
“I don’t want to back out,” Everett said. “Relaxation tends to be at the bottom of my to-do list, but I really do want some fresh air. . .with you. Maybe you can teach me how to breathe again.” Did those words actually come out of his mouth? Maybe there really was a romantic heart beating inside him.
Lark looked over at the corner of the living room where his mother’s piano sat with the lid down. Then she smiled at him. “I guess I should go.”
Everett opened the door for her, but he didn’t want Lark to leave. He wanted to keep listening to whatever she had to say about anything. Her voice had a gentle ebb and flow to it like an ocean’s tide. But duty called, especially since Zeta had brought the new files to add to his project.
“I’ll pick you up at six thirty. Is that okay?” Everett asked.
“Yes.” Lark stepped over the threshold, but when she turned back around, they were suddenly standing close.
“I look forward to this evening,” Everett whispered.
Lark blushed when she looked at him.
The rosy color looked so good on her cheeks, he wanted to kiss the very spot he’d made warm by his words. In fact, what fragrance did she wear? Some expensive perfume, no doubt. “Okay.” If he were being drugged by the scent, he knew he wouldn’t put up a fight.
“Okay,” Lark said.
Everett walked her home, which took all of two minutes, and then he settled into his office assimilating Zeta’s file into his project like a good little accountant. Suddenly, he wondered if he could get by with a suit for the party or if he was expected to wear a tux. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d worn his tux. The goofy thing probably didn’t even fit anymore. Did his sedan have enough gas? And what about flowers? Was he supposed to buy a corsage for Lark, or did that practice go out with the high school prom?
Everett looked over at Lark’s office window. He couldn’t see her because the sun’s brightness had darkened the view inside. He tugged on the ribbon on the mothballs instead, hoping Lark was having just as much trouble concentrating as he was. In fact, what could she be up to right this minute?
Nine
Lark went back to her sketchbook and then switched on her French language CD. “Bon soir!” she repeated after the teacher. She chuckled. Who am I kidding? She couldn’t smother the anticipation she felt about the coming evening. Work suddenly felt like going through the motions, but she still tried to concentrate on her charcoal drawing. Half an hour later on the last bit of shading, the doorbell rang.
Everett? Hope he didn’t change his mind. Lark flung the door open to find Jeremy standing before her looking ruggedly attractive in his ponytail and scruffy jeans. But then he always looked that way—like he’d just gotten back from bungee jumping in the Grand Canyon. “Welcome! Soyez le bienvenu! ”
“Thank you. Guess you’re working on those French language tapes again.” Jeremy rubbed his chin, which seemed to have a perpetual five o’clock shadow.
Lark leaned against the doorframe. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thanks, but I’d better get going.”
But you just arrived. Lark blinked hard. “You look sort of expectant.”
“Boy, I hope not.” Jeremy gave her a smirk.
“I mean, did I forget something?” A
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