hip boots.
First, he’d discovered he was going to have to be much more patient when it came to finding out who’d broken into the lab. He’d made his list, all right, and even done some snooping. So far, though, he’d come up empty-handed.
Then he’d come face to face with Janey Mayfield, who had treated him as if he had a communicable disease. Her attitude shouldn’t have rankled, but it did. Just who the hell did she think she was? She had no right to pass judgment on him, though it was obvious she didn’t see it that way.
What a damn awkward moment. When he’d realized who owned the candy shop, he’d wanted to turn around and get the hell out. That absurd reaction, however, had lasted only a moment, his good breeding and common sense coming to his rescue.
Though it had been years since he’d last seen her, she appeared much the same—in looks, anyway. While never beautiful, she had always been attractive—and still was, though she appeared more on the thin side than he remembered. However, her curves were in the right places. He’d noticed that, much to his chagrin.
Of course her hairstyle had changed. She now wore her reddish-brown hair shorter and tousled, giving her a softer, sexier look. But the real change was in her clear brown eyes. They reflected a guarded intensity that hadn’t been there before. But then, he couldn’t blame her for that.
What he could blame her for was her attitude toward him, and for refueling his own painful memories.
Now he was sitting in a restaurant with another woman, having dinner, when he would rather be at home. Alone.
“Dillon.”
The sound of Patricia’s irritated voice brought him back to the moment with a start. “Mmm?”
“What’s the matter with you?” she demanded. “You’ve hardly said a dozen words since we got here, and we’ve finished our meal.”
She was right, he admitted silently. His mind and heart weren’t in the evening. Crossing paths with Janey yesterday had definitely soured his mood, which was ludicrous, but a fact nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he said lamely, feeling more like a heel than ever.
“I don’t think so,” she responded bluntly.
“I really am sorry if I’m ruining your birthday. It’s just that I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.”
She frowned. “Obviously I’m not one of those ‘things.’”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Pat—”
She held up her hand. “I know we’re just friends. You’ve made that plain from the beginning, but—” This time she stopped her own flow of words with a shrug. “And I’m okay with that—for right now,” she added hurriedly, giving him a teasing smile. “But I’m not giving up, so be warned.”
His gut instinct told him to douse that hope with the brutal truth, but he refrained. After all, this was her birthday, and he couldn’t bring himself to totally destroy the evening.
He hoped he wouldn’t regret his actions later. As he’d told Allie, Patricia was a friend and nothing else. He cared about her, but he felt no chemistry, sexual or otherwise, which he deemed necessary in any relationship.
That was unfortunate, too, since Pat was a woman who had a lot going for her. She was several years younger than he, divorced, with no children. She was attractive, too, with short black hair and dark eyes. And she owned her own business, a successful beauty salon. He sensed she would marry him in a minute. For that reason, he decided it wouldn’t be wise to take her out after tonight.
“Hey, I’m still here, remember?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I know. All I can do is apologize again.”
“How about ordering coffee, instead?”
That was when Dillon realized the waiter was hovering over his shoulder. “Works for me,” he quipped, then did just that.
After the waiter had disappeared, his eyes accidentally wandered toward the door of the restaurant. Suddenly he sucked in his breath and held it.
“What’s wrong?” Pat asked, a frown marring her features.
He cleared his throat. “Nothing.” Liar, he told himself, watching Janey Mayfield and her daughter thread their way between tables, heading in their direction.
Great, he thought with disgust. Just great.
Four
Janey couldn’t have ignored him even if she’d wanted to. Despite the fact that he was seated at a table in the far corner of the room, Dillon’s muscular body seemed to stand out.
He had on slacks and a sports coat, a far cry from the cowboy look of the other day. Whatever he wore, his strong features were an attention grabber. Not that she was attracted to him or anything like that, except in a purely objective way, she assured herself quickly.
Still, she was irritated that she’d even given him more than a cursory glance. Lowering her eyes, Janey crossed her fingers that the hostess wouldn’t place her and Robin anywhere near Dillon and his date.
She wished now that she and Robin had gone somewhere else to dine, to celebrate her lucrative day at Sweet Dreams. She had sold more candy today than any day since she’d taken over.
Robin had told her that called for a celebration. Ignoring the fact that she was dead on her feet, Janey had agreed. Now, however, she was regretting Robin’s choice of restaurant, although this one was the most upscale in Hunter—the place to be seen, Robin had said with a grin.
They had barely been seated and ordered their drinks when Robin said in an excited voice, “Mom, did you see who’s here?”
“Lots of people,” she responded with wide-eyed innocence.
Robin’s mouth curved downward. “Oh, Mom, I know you saw him. It’s Dillon.”
“Mr. Reed to you, my dear,” Janey said sternly.
“Well, it used to be just Dillon.” Robin’s tone was a bit petulant.
“That was a long time ago. Now he’s your principal, which sets new ground rules.”
“I know.”
“Smile when you say that.”
“Who would ever have thought he’d be my principal? It’s awesome.” Robin’s eyes twinkled. “He’s awesome, actually.”
Janey barely curbed her impatience with the turn this conversation had taken. “Oh, really?”
“So cool, too. All the kids like him lots.”
“I’m glad.”
“You don’t sound like it.”
“That’s not true.”
“You
