you, Rachel.”
“Thank you,” she said simply. “I care about you, too.”
A smile came and went, almost before she could notice.
“Thanks,” he said. “A little while ago, I realized how much I depend on you. You’re a good friend.”
“I consider you a good friend, too.” And she did.
“Have you had dinner?” he asked.
At the game they’d had hot dogs and soda, and then later Rachel had eaten salty, greasy popcorn. In fact, all she’d had since brunch was junk food. “Not really. Want to go out?”
“Sure.” The suggestion seemed to please him. “Do you have anything in mind?”
“Mr. Wok’s?” It was her favorite Chinese place.
“Fine with me.”
Not until she was getting ready for bed later that night did she remember Bruce’s comment that he knew she’d just gotten home. He must have been parked outside her house, waiting.
Twenty-One
Christie Levitt wasn’t sure what to make of Teri’s sudden interest in reestablishing their relationship. As a kid she’d looked up to Teri and followed her like a shadow. Not that it got her anywhere. Teri always lost patience with her little sister, dumping her whenever she could.
It wasn’t until Christie was twelve or thirteen that she discovered she had something Teri didn’t, and that was beauty. Not that Teri was ugly or anything. But Christie had the looks—the classic face and shiny blond hair—and the body to go with them. She’d quickly learned to use that to her advantage, and then she’d gone about proving she could have anything and everything her big sister did. The sense of power and exhilaration she got from stealing Teri’s boyfriends was addictive. Christie wanted her sister to experience a little of the frustration she’d felt when Teri used to exclude her. Rejection hurt. This was payback time—and it went on and on. Christie had never been serious about any of the guys interested in her older sister. If she’d felt remorse for her cruelty … well, she ignored it.
Her charm and beauty had never failed her until she met Teri’s husband. Bobby Polgar had simply ignored her compliments. Nothing she’d said had any effect on him. When Teri left the living room to check on dinner that first night, Christie had made her move. She’d deliberately stood and walked over to Bobby, claiming she needed help with a button at the back of her blouse.
Bobby refused, claiming he wasn’t good with buttons and she should ask Teri. It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he said it. Bobby wasn’t interested in her. He’d fallen for Teri, and this seemed to be the one man who wasn’t susceptible to Christie. He’d shown it that first night and proved it several times since.
“Home, miss?” James asked, breaking into her thoughts.
Christie sat in the backseat of the stretch limo after an early dinner at Teri’s. The car was utterly ridiculous, she told herself scornfully, and yet Bobby Polgar wasn’t pretentious in the least. So why this fancy car and driver? The driver, especially, was annoying.
“Take me to the Pink Poodle,” she instructed. James had what could only be described as a stiff upper lip. Christie couldn’t recall where she’d heard that expression—probably some BBC costume drama—but it fit James perfectly. He was devoid of personality and so polite it made her crazy. She could tell him to jump off a bridge and his response would be something along the lines of “Very good, miss.”
Twice now—since that disastrous dinner with their mother—Teri had invited Christie to the house. On both occasions she’d sent Bobby’s driver to pick her up and afterward deliver her home.
Spending an evening with Teri and Bobby had become surprisingly enjoyable. They might not always agree but they were family—and she hadn’t thought of Teri that way in years. Family hadn’t had much meaning for her until recently, although she’d always been close to Johnny. So was Teri. They had that much in common, anyway. But until recently, Teri seemed to avoid her and, in all fairness, Christie knew why. She’d made it a habit to be as unpleasant toward her older sister as possible. For the first time since childhood, Christie saw potential in their relationship. They were moving tentatively toward something new, a kind of friendship, and that required concessions from both of them.
Teri’s marriage had started it. Christie had never seen her sister this happy, this much in love. Teri’s husband was a bit … unusual, but Christie discovered she rather liked Bobby Polgar.
Teri seemed to want to make up for lost time now. She was reaching out to Christie in various unexpected ways. The long-stemmed red rose that had awaited her in the car both nights was a good example. It was a nice touch, thoughtful and rather sweet.
“The Pink Poodle, miss?”
“Yes,” she snapped. The tone of his voice told her he disapproved. Well, he could think what he wanted. She didn’t care.
Bobby was odd, but that was understandable. He was a famous chess player. As for Bobby’s driver—well, James had no excuse. He wasn’t even English or anything. He just acted like someone on—what was that old show? Upstairs, Downstairs.
Who the hell had a driver in this day and age, anyway? Then again, Bobby probably didn’t have a driver’s license, which might explain why he’d hired James. What didn’t make sense was the way Bobby had James drive Teri everywhere she went. Talk about ridiculous. Still, if Bobby was going to keep the man as a full-time employee, James needed something to do. Driving Teri to the mall. Waiting around. Driving her back. Talk about boring.
Without further conversation, James pulled up in front of the local tavern where Christie spent several evenings a week. She tended to go there when she got off work at the Wal-Mart just outside Cedar Cove. It wasn’t as though she had anyone waiting for her at home. The Pink Poodle was a friendly place; the music was lively and she could kick back and relax. James came around to the passenger door to let her out. He didn’t look at her, which irritated her even more. The real reason she’d asked him to bring her to the tavern was to get a reaction out of him. She should’ve known she wouldn’t. Other than the disapproving tone he’d used earlier, he didn’t give the slightest indication of … anything.
“Thank you, Ja-ames,” she said, drawing out the one syllable of his name. The desire to break through that reserve of his was nearly overwhelming. She couldn’t imagine what he’d do if she suddenly kissed him. The thought produced a smile. He’d keel over in a dead faint. Or step on the gas and drive right into a tree.
Climbing out of the car, Christie headed for the tavern door without a backward glance. Most people in the crowd greeted her; she knew nearly everyone there. Without stopping to chat, she went up to the bar and ordered a draft beer.
Larry, the bartender, a middle-aged guy who was also the owner, picked up a chilled mug and automatically filled it from one of the taps. He didn’t need to ask which brew she wanted. He knew what she liked.
She sat down on a stool and they chatted for a few minutes until Kyle Jamison strolled in the front door. “Say, what’s that limo doing outside?” he shouted.
“What?” Christie couldn’t believe her ears. James was still parked outside!
Half
