Part 15 (1/2)
The phone beeped and Jennifer leaned over to touch the leaf of a plant. Her features were tense in the kitchen window.
”Who's Richard?”
She replaced the phone in its cradle, her gaze elusive. ”Someone I know. An a.s.sociate of my late husband.”
”Been seeing him long?” s.h.i.+t. He sounded possessive. Her head snapped up, and his mouth tightened.
She rubbed her eyes, smearing mascara. ”Not really.” Two simple words yet she sounded worn out by them.
Jennifer found her seat again and rested both elbows on the table. Her eyes flickered with he's smart enough to figure that one out and something shriveled inside him. Did she a.s.sume he was a bone head greaser? It was funny how people could say so much with their eyes.
”Is it serious?”
”No. If it was, would I ask you here with me?”
”Maybe you're one of those women wants a man from the wrong side of town?” His harsh words were spoken in a quiet voice.
Jennifer gasped in horror. ”I'm not like that.” She sat back in her chair as if he'd slapped her. ”I get how tonight you might have the wrong impression, but that's not me.”
The clock ticked on her wall. The hour was late, almost eleven.
”You might not, but others do.” He balled up his napkin.
Silence pa.s.sed. He needed to get going, but this Richard guy stuck in his craw.
”By the look on your face, he's a sore point.” He paused to collect himself. ”Maybe one of those cross roads that's bugging you.”
”Richard was always around and people a.s.sumed things. They started putting us together in social situations.” She absently hooked hair behind her ear. ”He lost his wife in a car accident about two years ago. And he's a big supporter of the City Museum of Art. I used to work there. Everyone says I should work there again.”
”Do you want to?”
”Work there?” Her brows furrowed. ”Some days yes, some days no.” She made swirls in her pasta sauce. ”I thought about teaching art, but the only job available is part-time at a small private school.”
”So?”
Her swirls slowed. Jennifer's fine posture crumpled.
”I've never liked people telling me what I should do.” He pushed his plate aside, adding, ”Let me guess, Richard's one of those advice-giving friends.”
Her gaze shot up from her plate.
”Don't be so surprised,” he said. ”I can put two and two together.”
”I know you can.” She stood up slowly, rubbing the back of her neck. ”It's been a long day. I'd better get some sleep.”
He was going to help with the clean-up, but Jennifer shut him out. They walked to the front door, his mind spinning all the possibilities where things went wrong. Jennifer opened the tall front door without so much as one hinge creaking. The place was a mausoleum, nothing like his house. Crickets chirped outside. Up lights flooded dwarf palm trees in her front yard. Someone probably drew up designs for every bush, tree, and blade of gra.s.s.
”Your car will ready by noon tomorrow,” he said. ”Do you need someone to come get you?”
”My neighbor can give me a ride.” She was careful to keep a wide berth between them. ”I'll see you then.”
His eyes flickered on the purposeful s.p.a.ce between them. It spoke volumes. No kissing. No touching.
”See you tomorrow,” he said, pa.s.sing over the threshold, giving her a last look.
Brown eyes softened. ”Thank you AJ. You're the best surprise I've had in a long, long time.”
Her parting smile was a half-hearted effort as she shut the door. He'd seen it before. It was the same one she gave him when they were strangers around town.
CHAPTER THREE.
AJ squinted at McMillan's outside lot. Sun s.h.i.+ned so bright his eyes ached. He wasn't running at full tilt, but the shop was. Cars and trucks in all eight bays, with more scheduled through the week. The only car that concerned him was a certain blue Volvo sitting in the shade of a pepper tree and the woman who owned it.
He braced an arm on a support beam, watching Sean do major surgery on a ten year old Lincoln Towne Car.
”You know what it is?” Sean tossed a wrench into his tool cart, talking over the whine of a pneumatic drill.
”No, what?”
”We're always chasing them here.” Sean pointed between his own legs. ”But really we want in here-” He tapped his head ”-and here.” He tapped the left side of his chest. ”With the ones who matter.”
They moved in tandem, hoisting a torque converter pieced gingerly together. ”You might want the head and heart,” AJ said, helping set the torque in place. ”But most guys want one thing and one thing only.”
”But we're not talking about most guys.” Sean gave his arm a friendly slap. ”We're talking about you.”
Sean had spent most of the morning listening to him go on about last night. Usually it was the other way around. Sean talked and he listened. AJ never cared enough to discuss pa.s.sing flings, but Jennifer was no pa.s.sing fling. She was one hot, complicated night.
”All I'm saying is you can't unwind what happened. Try friends.h.i.+p first. l.u.s.t messes with your head.”
”I want to be her friend,” he said defensively. ”What makes you think I'm in l.u.s.t overdrive?”
Sean leaned under the hood, grinning up at him. ”The marks on your neck.”
His hand clapped the side of his neck Jennifer had feasted on last night. It'd been years since he let that happen.
”All I'm saying is if you like her, slow down. Keep to public places. That'll make you keep your hands to yourself.” Sean tinkered with the torque converter. ”Ask her out for coffee and scones. Chicks love that s.h.i.+t.”
Public places. That's what got him into trouble. He was more restrained in the privacy of Jennifer's kitchen.
”Since when did you become Dear Abby?”
”Since you came in this morning with a fresh shave.” Sean scratched his unshaven chin, smearing grease. ”When's the last time you gave yourself such a close shave?” He teased. ”Your sister's wedding?”
AJ pulled a rag from his pocket to polish the Lincoln's side panel. ”I don't know why I'm doing this.”
”What? Rubbing the car like it's her?” Sean laughed, ducking the rag AJ threw at him.