both in the same business. I’m sure you never run out of fascinating things to talk about.”
A flash of annoyance tumbled through his gaze and his voice hardened. “Know what? Maybe we should have our coffee next door at the café. Millie’s open until eleven tonight. Summer hours.”
Lindsay shook her head. She didn’t need coffee. The images her mind was supplying were already burning a hole in her stomach. Images of Ike and his needy lady boss engaged in less-than-businesslike activities.
“No thanks,” she answered crisply, moving toward the door. “I’ve said what I came to say.”
“Some things never change, do they?” he challenged. “Whenever things get a little sticky between us, you run the other way. God forbid you should hang around and talk things out. Somewhere, your mother’s applauding.”
She turned around swiftly. “You know, I wondered how long it would be before you started in on her again.” She grabbed the doorknob. “I’m leaving.”
“Go ahead, you’re good at it.”
That stopped her dead. Eyes filling with tears, Lindsay faced him again. He’d gone too far. His troubled expression told her that he knew it, too.
“Look…” he said through a sigh. “Let’s just go over to the café and talk—get a piece of Millie’s coconut cream pie to go with the coffee.”
But coffee and dessert wouldn’t change anything. There was too much baggage and too many harsh words between them. They’d only end up arguing there, too, and Millie’s customers didn’t need a floor show. Halfway through their pie, Ike would remind her that she’d initiated divorce proceedings, she’d remind him that he’d said the D word first, and they would end up not speaking. That couldn’t happen. They had to work together now, for all of their sakes. “I can’t, Ike.”
“Why not?”
For some perverse reason, she wanted him to know that another man valued her. Maybe because he’d hinted that he and Brandy had a relationship, then left her twisting in the wind without confirming or denying it. But again, she couldn’t imagine him staying celibate for long, even though she had. When they were together, they’d been wild in bed. Wild and wonderful and happy and loving and…
“Because tongues wag at the slightest hint of impropriety in this town,” she replied before the memories could get to her again. “And I’m seeing someone now.”
He didn’t say a word, and she went on. “John’s the new owner of the bookstore—and whether it’s ten in the morning or ten at night, the rumor mills grind away. I don’t see any reason to make him uneasy.”
“Whatever.”
It wasn’t what she expected, and his cavalier reply hit hard.
Then he poured himself a cup of coffee, replaced the carafe and met her eyes again. “So do you want a cup here in Hernando’s Hideaway where no one can see you, or are you really taking off?”
She swallowed. “No, I need to go home and get some sleep. I work the early shift tomorrow.”
“Fine. Let me know what your mother says.”
“I will.”
Lindsay stepped into the cool night, relieved to get out of there, glad for the air on her face. Several doors down, a chattering family carried bags and suitcases into a room where the porch light was shining. A brand-new bunch of moths had homed in on it and were now fluttering helplessly, lured by the pretty glow, and powerless to move away.
She knew exactly how they felt.
“Good night, Ike.”
“’Night. Be careful walking home.”
“This is Spindrift,” she replied soberly. “Nothing bad ever happens around here.”
Lindsay heard the door close behind her. Then she crossed the parking lot and headed for the steep, shadowy walk leading toward the road, Ike’s casual “Whatever” hurting all over again.
So much for letting him know that she was moving on with her life. He hadn’t given a damn that she was seeing John Fielding.
He’d wanted to touch her, Ike thought twenty minutes later, grinding his molars as he let himself back inside his motel room. There, he’d admitted it. He dropped his cell phone and take-out bag on the dresser, along with a metal room key that pinged across the wooden surface.
He couldn’t have cared less if a few moths flew inside. He just wanted to touch her, link with her for a second to see if the old feeling was still there—that knock-the-breath-out-of-you feeling of getting whacked in the chest with a bowling ball.
It was. But he was through shoving his heart through a Cuisinart for her.
Carrying his food to the nearest bed, he kicked off his boots, plumped the pillows against the headboard, then settled back to fish out the first of three cheeseburgers that Millie Kraft had grilled for him. He knew it had killed her not to ask if his reappearance in town had anything to do with Lindsay. But he hadn’t volunteered any information and being the sweet old gal that she was, Millie had simply let the hope in her eyes show and kept mum.
Taking a bite, Ike snagged the remote control on the nightstand and flicked through the channels until he came to a movie he’d seen a few times—one that wouldn’t require much concentration. Lindsay had just about all the attention he was capable of focusing right now.
She was seeing someone. And he hadn’t even looked at another woman that way since they’d yelled their last goodbyes. Hadn’t even wanted to.
He took another bite, chewed awhile, decided it tasted like sand, and dropped the burger back in the bag. Nothing—not food, not coffee, not the movie on the tube—could wipe away the disturbing pictures cluttering his mind.
Getting up, he jammed his food into the tiny wastebasket, then grabbed his cell phone and punched in the number for Tank Exton’s fancy gym and spa outside of Portland. He needed to focus on the job—grill Tank about anything else the dead skip had said when he was taking him in. He needed to focus on Ricky Hollis’s hidden killer.
Not the beautiful woman who’d fallen in step behind his father and walked out of his life again.
The next morning at six-thirty, Lindsay squared her shoulders, drew a breath, then walked inside Krafty Millie’s Café. She knew Ike’s habits, and as she’d expected, he was having coffee at the counter, along with a few other early birds. He’d always liked diners and little eateries that served up home cooking and freshly baked pies. Five-star restaurants and French cuisine were way at the bottom of his priority list.
Smiling brightly, Millie Kraft waved from behind the cash register where she was handing change to a customer. “’Morning, Lindsay!” she called over the sporadic conversation and piped-in Sinatra. “What brings you in at the crack of dawn?”
Wonderful, Lindsay thought smiling back at the graying, curly-haired elf in the black-and-white uniform. Let him know right away that it’s unusual for her to be here at this hour. “Just getting an early start on the day,” she replied, intercepting a curious look from Ike.
Millie
