There's Something About Marty (A Working Stiffs Mystery Book 3) by Wendy Delaney Page B
Authors: Wendy Delaney
Ads: Link
to one of the bowling league guys who wanted a refill. “I feel a story coming on. Hold that thought and I’ll be right back.”
“I have a story for you, all right.” I swallowed the growing lump in my throat as I listened to Billy Paul singing about having a secret thing going on with Mrs. Jones. I glared at the speaker perched eight feet from my head. “Not helping.”
“Is this seat taken?” Without waiting for an answer, Kyle Cardinale slid onto the barstool next to me.
Criminy. This was so not the way my evening was supposed to go.
I forced a smile. “It is now.”
His gaze raked over me. “You look very lovely tonight.” His whisky brown eyes widened as if he’d committed a public gaffe, and he pushed away from the bar. “Sorry, I’m intruding. You’re obviously on a date.”
“Relax. He had to cancel.”
Kyle settled back down on his barstool. “Must be something in the air. My date had to cancel, too.”
“Bummer,” I said, looking past him at the delighted expression on Rox’s face as she approached.
She tossed two coasters in front of us. “Good evening, Doctor. What can I get you?”
“That depends on the lady.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the Adonis next to me was short-circuiting my brain with the smoldering look in his eyes and nothing but a squeak came out.
His gaze traveled south, lingering at my cleavage. “I have dinner reservations for seven at the Grotto.”
One of the spendier restaurants over thirty miles away on the Port Townsend waterfront. Either he’d wanted to impress his date or Dr. Cardinale had expensive taste.
And since that date wouldn’t be arriving, I saw danger signs flashing between us—danger that I needed to diffuse. “I—”
“Then you’d better get going or you’re going to be late,” Rox interjected, gathering up the coasters.
I tilted my head at her. Sheesh, way to be subtle, girlfriend.
She beamed with satisfaction. “Have fun.”
Kyle stood, offering me his hand. “Shall we?”
Again, not the way my evening was supposed to go, but I slipped my hand in his, all too aware of his gentle touch. “Why not?” It was just dinner.
Releasing me to hold the door open, he kept his hands to himself as we stepped outside. “I was just about to cancel my reservation and order a pizza to go when I saw you at the bar.”
The breeze off Merritt Bay blew wisps of hair into my face, every one of them sticking to my painted lips as if I were wearing flypaper. “You can still do that,” I said, shielding myself from the wind and further hair damage with his broad-shouldered body. And after he left with his pizza I’d lay my soul bare to Rox, preferably following a shot or two of liquid courage.
Kyle turned to me. “Why would I want to do that when I could have the pleasure of your company?”
Standing eye to eye in the parking lot thanks to my four-inch stilettos, I had no answer for him, especially since he was looking at me like he might want to play doctor later.
Loose gravel crunched under our feet as we headed toward the rear of the parking lot. “My car’s back here.”
I had no idea which of the twenty or so cars in the lot was his, but I hoped we’d get to it soon because my shoes weren’t made for traversing rocky terrain. “Okay.”
“How’re you doing in those shoes?”
“Fine.” I wasn’t about to admit that my feet were killing me.
“I don’t see how you girls walk in them.”
“Very carefully, especially in gravel parking lots.”
Kyle took my hand. “Wouldn’t want to have to fit you for a cast later.”
He pulled me closer and my traitorous heart quickened.
Damn, what was with me and Italian men? Being unceremoniously dumped by Christopher Scolari after seven years of marriage should have hardened my heart. But no, mine was racing like a school girl’s on her first date.
“Here we are,” he said.
I screeched to a stop, staring at the vintage cherry red Jaguar parked next to a beater
“I have a story for you, all right.” I swallowed the growing lump in my throat as I listened to Billy Paul singing about having a secret thing going on with Mrs. Jones. I glared at the speaker perched eight feet from my head. “Not helping.”
“Is this seat taken?” Without waiting for an answer, Kyle Cardinale slid onto the barstool next to me.
Criminy. This was so not the way my evening was supposed to go.
I forced a smile. “It is now.”
His gaze raked over me. “You look very lovely tonight.” His whisky brown eyes widened as if he’d committed a public gaffe, and he pushed away from the bar. “Sorry, I’m intruding. You’re obviously on a date.”
“Relax. He had to cancel.”
Kyle settled back down on his barstool. “Must be something in the air. My date had to cancel, too.”
“Bummer,” I said, looking past him at the delighted expression on Rox’s face as she approached.
She tossed two coasters in front of us. “Good evening, Doctor. What can I get you?”
“That depends on the lady.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the Adonis next to me was short-circuiting my brain with the smoldering look in his eyes and nothing but a squeak came out.
His gaze traveled south, lingering at my cleavage. “I have dinner reservations for seven at the Grotto.”
One of the spendier restaurants over thirty miles away on the Port Townsend waterfront. Either he’d wanted to impress his date or Dr. Cardinale had expensive taste.
And since that date wouldn’t be arriving, I saw danger signs flashing between us—danger that I needed to diffuse. “I—”
“Then you’d better get going or you’re going to be late,” Rox interjected, gathering up the coasters.
I tilted my head at her. Sheesh, way to be subtle, girlfriend.
She beamed with satisfaction. “Have fun.”
Kyle stood, offering me his hand. “Shall we?”
Again, not the way my evening was supposed to go, but I slipped my hand in his, all too aware of his gentle touch. “Why not?” It was just dinner.
Releasing me to hold the door open, he kept his hands to himself as we stepped outside. “I was just about to cancel my reservation and order a pizza to go when I saw you at the bar.”
The breeze off Merritt Bay blew wisps of hair into my face, every one of them sticking to my painted lips as if I were wearing flypaper. “You can still do that,” I said, shielding myself from the wind and further hair damage with his broad-shouldered body. And after he left with his pizza I’d lay my soul bare to Rox, preferably following a shot or two of liquid courage.
Kyle turned to me. “Why would I want to do that when I could have the pleasure of your company?”
Standing eye to eye in the parking lot thanks to my four-inch stilettos, I had no answer for him, especially since he was looking at me like he might want to play doctor later.
Loose gravel crunched under our feet as we headed toward the rear of the parking lot. “My car’s back here.”
I had no idea which of the twenty or so cars in the lot was his, but I hoped we’d get to it soon because my shoes weren’t made for traversing rocky terrain. “Okay.”
“How’re you doing in those shoes?”
“Fine.” I wasn’t about to admit that my feet were killing me.
“I don’t see how you girls walk in them.”
“Very carefully, especially in gravel parking lots.”
Kyle took my hand. “Wouldn’t want to have to fit you for a cast later.”
He pulled me closer and my traitorous heart quickened.
Damn, what was with me and Italian men? Being unceremoniously dumped by Christopher Scolari after seven years of marriage should have hardened my heart. But no, mine was racing like a school girl’s on her first date.
“Here we are,” he said.
I screeched to a stop, staring at the vintage cherry red Jaguar parked next to a beater
Similar Books
