it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be possible for two women to look so much alike, and yet so different. Could this lovely vision in front of him really be…
Chapter Two
Patsy turned around and almost choked on the wine she’d just sipped. No, it couldn’t be. She looked again. Dressed in charcoal-gray Dockers, a white turtleneck and a navy sport jacket to ward off the chill of a late March cold front, stood the last person she ever expected to see here. Sergeant Raymond Darling in attractive designer glasses—she didn’t know why she noticed them, but she did—dominated the space between their table and the next one, seeming to suck the very oxygen out of the air.
He, bless him, seemed as shocked to see her as she was to see him.
They looked at each other, unable to draw their gazes away, until Ray swallowed. Patsy watched, fascinated as his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Sort of feels like being trapped in the headlights of a speeding train,” he finally said under his breath. He hadn’t really directed his comment to Patsy, but she understood that it was intended for her, and she doubted that Aunt Myrtle had heard him.
“Good evening, Miss Carter,” he said to Aunt Myrtle, then he nodded toward Patsy, and she forced a tentative smile, welcoming smile.
“Good evening, Raymond. I’ve always appreciated promptness in a man,” Myrtle Carter returned. She offered him a bejeweled hand, and Ray wasn’t sure whether to kiss it or shake it. He opted for the latter.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ray said, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the fourth chair. “I strive to be on time. The air force pretty well requires it,” he added. On the way over he had told himself that the sooner he got there, the sooner this fiasco would be over and done with. Now, he wasn’t so sure he wanted the evening to end quickly. The aromas emanating from the restaurant’s kitchen were delectable, and Patsy Pritchard wasn’t bad to look at, even if she seemed to be wound as tight as a spring.
“Patsy, you must meet my guest,” Myrtle Carter said in a tone that reminded Radar of a queen—maybe the silly ruffled collar had something to do with it. “Patsy, this is my new young friend, Sergeant Raymond Darling.”
She looked up at him and forced a smile. This was so awkward. She’d seen this man in his skivvies; his well-honed physique had been bared to her, the memory of which made if difficult for Patsy to breathe, much less speak. And he looked military through and through tonight, even dressed casually. That turtleneck stretched tight over a chest that was at least a yard across….
Then he looked down at her and grinned, and Patsy couldn’t help grinning back.
Oh Lord, if she hadn’t been sitting down, that smile might have melted the hinges in her knees. “Sergeant Darling,” she murmured, hoping that her agitation wasn’t evident in her voice.
“Please, call me Ray,” he said and offered his hand.
Patsy accepted it. “Ray,” she said, a slight catch in her voice. Now she’d be given away for sure. Her heart was beating like a tom tom, and she was certain that Sergeant Darling would be able to feel her pulse racing when they shook hands. Or maybe he wouldn’t. His grip was so tight that Patsy was sure she wouldn’t be able to move her fingers for at least an hour once he let it go.
Patsy jerked her hand away and shook it to get the circulation going again. “At work they call me Pat.”
“Sorry,” Ray said. “It’s easy to forget one’s own strength.”
“I may not be able to move my hand for days,” Patsy said, flexing her fingers.
“Silly,” Aunt Myrtle said. “No harm done. Your fingers are working just fine.” She turned to Ray and patted the empty chair between Patsy and herself. “Please, sit down. We’ve been waiting to order.”
Ray sat, then picked up his menu and perused it. “What’s good here?” he asked, looking over the top of the menu. Just seeing his raised eyebrows set Patsy’s heart fluttering.
“Anything and everything,” Patsy answered, still slightly breathless. The reason she knew about the menu was that Aunt Myrt often brought her here.
“Then I think I’ll try the amberjack,” Ray said, closing the menu.
Like the grande dame of the manor, Myrtle signaled for the waiter who scurried right over and took their orders. Then they settled back to wait.
“Why don’t the two of you get acquainted while I go powder my nose?” Aunt Myrtle suggested.
That was the last thing she needed, Patsy thought. To be left alone with superhero-in-disguise Sergeant Darling. Even in the middle of this crowded restaurant.
“Sure. But, your lovely niece and I are already old friends,” Ray said.
“Oh?” Myrtle, a frown of consternation on her face, stood poised halfway in and out of her chair.
“Yes. I have had occasion to partake of her professional services at the clinic from time to time,” Radar said.
At least, he hadn’t mentioned the most recent event, Patsy was relieved to hear. How she had hated jabbing that needle into that firm, perfect butt, though looking at it hadn’t been a chore at all. She felt her face grow warm. “Yes,” she said, nodding vigorously, hoping that the motion would erase the flush. It didn’t. “I’ve seen him in the clinic.” Boy, had she seen him!
“Well, that’s even better than I’d hoped. You’re already friends,” Myrtle said, more to herself than them, as she hurried away. She paused to speak to the waiter, then hurried out of the main dining room.
Friends? Patsy thought. I hardly think so. Enemies. Not hardly. Boyfriend/girlfriend? No, she shouldn’t be thinking about that. After all, she had a firm policy about dating men she saw at the clinic. Any men, really, but maybe her aunt was right. Maybe it was time for that to change.
“So, your aunt calls you Patsy,” Ray said, placing his napkin in his lap and leaving his hands braced against his muscled thighs.
“Yes,” she said primly, happy to have been afforded the change in her direction of thinking. She put her hands in her lap as well. “She’s the only one I let get away with it.”
“Why is that? I like it. It suits you,” Ray said.
She’d liked it, too, when her parents had called her that, or her late husband. But it seemed as though everyone who’d ever cared about her had died and left her alone, so she didn’t encourage that particular intimacy anymore. It evoked too many memories. “I don’t!” she lied, her voice sharp.
“What do you want me to call you, then?”
Patsy knew well what the men in the clinic called her behind her back, so she had to give Ray an alternative. “Pat will be fine.”
“All right, Pat,” Ray said. “Pleased to meet you.” He paused. “Do you come here often?”
Patsy had to smile. It almost sounded like a pickup line. “Yes, it’s one of Aunt Myrtle’s favorite restaurants. Our family had a
