noticing.”
“Hmm,” he said.
“Hmm what?” She canted her head.
“I can see why you’re not married.”
Ouch, that was a low blow. Clearly he was getting even with her for the Magic Man teasing. “How do you know I’m not married.”
“Are you?”
“No.” She looked away so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes, and she saw how badly the corners needed dusting. There were
so many cobwebs that John Carpenter could set a horror flick in here.
“Okay, then, let’s go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“To the Bluebird.”
“Bluebird?”
“What are you? An echo? It’s a café.”
“What for?”
“For one thing, it’s lunchtime,” he said. “And I know you haven’t eaten, because there’s no food in the house.”
“But plenty of beer in the fridge,” she noted.
“You’ve been going through my things.”
Jillian hazarded another glance at him. That blue flannel against his olive complexion …
well
… totally breathtaking. “Hey, you were the one who took off.”
“The second reason we’re going to the Bluebird is to see Sutter Godfrey. He has lunch there every Sunday.”
“Sutter Godfrey?”
“My lawyer.”
“We’re not bothering the man on his day off, especially when he’s eating a meal. It’ll keep until tomorrow.”
“No.” Tuck’s eyes flashed darkly. “No, it won’t. I want this thing settled right now. I have a feeling you don’t believe me
about the deed.”
He was right, she didn’t.
“Let’s go,” he repeated.
Jillian shrugged into her jacket. “Just to be clear, I’m not going with you because you ordered me to go. I’m hungry.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t mistake you for someone who took directions well,” he said.
“As long as that’s settled.” She flipped her hair out from under the collar of her jacket where it had gotten caught. “What
kind of food do they serve at the Bluebird?”
“It’s a café. They serve café food.”
“Now who’s the smart-ass?”
Silence fell and she instantly had a flashback and saw the firm shape of his bare back as it disappeared into the waistband
of his undies. Briefly, she closed her eyes and willed the image away.
“You with me?”
She opened her eyes and shot him a surreptitious glance. He had long, extravagant eyelashes that were in sharp contrast to
the rest of his thoroughly masculine face. Those lashes kept his rugged looks from being too harsh. His lips were full but
angular. Her gaze just hung there. Spellbound, she wondered if his lips tasted as good in person as they had in her dream.
“Are we taking separate cars?” she asked.
He pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m driving. You’ve got a U-Haul attached to your Sebring.”
“Oh yeah.” She’d forgotten about that.
“What should I do with Mutt?”
“Bring him along. The Bluebird keeps a leash clip chained to a pole outside for four-legged visitors, along with a water bowl
and complimentary dog biscuits.”
“Wow, imagine. Pet pampering in the wilds of Colorado.”
“It’s not Antarctica.”
“The cell phone reception
is
pretty bad.”
“Mountains. They’re tall.”
“Ooh, there’s that smart mouth again.”
They reached his pickup truck, and he walked around to the passenger side to hold the door open for her. It felt weird, and
she realized she couldn’t remember a guy ever opening the car door for her. Surely someone had, but the memory escaped her.
A funny, unexpected feeling she couldn’t define swooped through her.
Hell, he impressed you.
No, no, she wasn’t impressed; she was just … just what?
He opened the back of the extended cab and whistled for Mutt, and the dog hopped inside.
“So,” she said when they were in the car together and headed up Enchantment Lane. “What happened with the big, splashy architectural
career?”
“The topic isn’t open for discussion.”
“Oookay. How do you make a living these days?”
He paused for so
“Hmm,” he said.
“Hmm what?” She canted her head.
“I can see why you’re not married.”
Ouch, that was a low blow. Clearly he was getting even with her for the Magic Man teasing. “How do you know I’m not married.”
“Are you?”
“No.” She looked away so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes, and she saw how badly the corners needed dusting. There were
so many cobwebs that John Carpenter could set a horror flick in here.
“Okay, then, let’s go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“To the Bluebird.”
“Bluebird?”
“What are you? An echo? It’s a café.”
“What for?”
“For one thing, it’s lunchtime,” he said. “And I know you haven’t eaten, because there’s no food in the house.”
“But plenty of beer in the fridge,” she noted.
“You’ve been going through my things.”
Jillian hazarded another glance at him. That blue flannel against his olive complexion …
well
… totally breathtaking. “Hey, you were the one who took off.”
“The second reason we’re going to the Bluebird is to see Sutter Godfrey. He has lunch there every Sunday.”
“Sutter Godfrey?”
“My lawyer.”
“We’re not bothering the man on his day off, especially when he’s eating a meal. It’ll keep until tomorrow.”
“No.” Tuck’s eyes flashed darkly. “No, it won’t. I want this thing settled right now. I have a feeling you don’t believe me
about the deed.”
He was right, she didn’t.
“Let’s go,” he repeated.
Jillian shrugged into her jacket. “Just to be clear, I’m not going with you because you ordered me to go. I’m hungry.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t mistake you for someone who took directions well,” he said.
“As long as that’s settled.” She flipped her hair out from under the collar of her jacket where it had gotten caught. “What
kind of food do they serve at the Bluebird?”
“It’s a café. They serve café food.”
“Now who’s the smart-ass?”
Silence fell and she instantly had a flashback and saw the firm shape of his bare back as it disappeared into the waistband
of his undies. Briefly, she closed her eyes and willed the image away.
“You with me?”
She opened her eyes and shot him a surreptitious glance. He had long, extravagant eyelashes that were in sharp contrast to
the rest of his thoroughly masculine face. Those lashes kept his rugged looks from being too harsh. His lips were full but
angular. Her gaze just hung there. Spellbound, she wondered if his lips tasted as good in person as they had in her dream.
“Are we taking separate cars?” she asked.
He pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m driving. You’ve got a U-Haul attached to your Sebring.”
“Oh yeah.” She’d forgotten about that.
“What should I do with Mutt?”
“Bring him along. The Bluebird keeps a leash clip chained to a pole outside for four-legged visitors, along with a water bowl
and complimentary dog biscuits.”
“Wow, imagine. Pet pampering in the wilds of Colorado.”
“It’s not Antarctica.”
“The cell phone reception
is
pretty bad.”
“Mountains. They’re tall.”
“Ooh, there’s that smart mouth again.”
They reached his pickup truck, and he walked around to the passenger side to hold the door open for her. It felt weird, and
she realized she couldn’t remember a guy ever opening the car door for her. Surely someone had, but the memory escaped her.
A funny, unexpected feeling she couldn’t define swooped through her.
Hell, he impressed you.
No, no, she wasn’t impressed; she was just … just what?
He opened the back of the extended cab and whistled for Mutt, and the dog hopped inside.
“So,” she said when they were in the car together and headed up Enchantment Lane. “What happened with the big, splashy architectural
career?”
“The topic isn’t open for discussion.”
“Oookay. How do you make a living these days?”
He paused for so
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