Ike’s gaze slip briefly over her navy slacks, white shirt and navy Windbreaker before meeting her eyes again. Then, nodding for him to join her, she took a seat in the red vinyl booth closest to the door.
Slowly, Ike dragged himself away from the counter, sidestepped a few tables and ambled across the black-and-white tile floor, his coffee cup in his hand. He was wearing jeans and boots again today, as well as the hunter-green shirt he’d donned after his shower last night. It was open at the throat, and his long sleeves were rolled back over his tanned, muscular forearms.
He folded his length into the seat across from her, but waited to speak until Millie had delivered her tea, sent the two of them a positively beaming look, then left. Lindsay had to smile inside. Millie was a hopeless romantic, and was probably counting the hours until she could ask her if a reconciliation was in the works. She’d be disappointed in Lindsay’s answer.
“Apparently, you’re no longer concerned about wagging tongues,” he drawled finally.
“Don’t be smug. I just need to know how to reach you in case my mother agrees.”
“You could’ve called my room at the motel for that information.”
“And you could have phoned me yesterday with your request instead of driving forty-five minutes out of your way.”
His face turned to stone. “That was a courtesy. I didn’t think you needed to hear lousy news on the telephone.”
Ike drank some coffee as he appraised her hairstyle over the rim of his cup. Then he set his mug on the table and dug his wallet from his hip pocket.
Lindsay waited for a comment. She’d twirled her hair into a soft bun and pulled a few tendrils loose around her face this morning—an easy style on a workday. But Ike had always preferred it down.
He didn’t mention her hair. Instead, he removed a business card from his wallet and handed it over. “Still working with Sam Cooper?” he asked.
“Five days a week.” She scanned the card. His home phone wasn’t listed for obvious reasons, but his business and cellular numbers were, and he was listed as an “associate” of Maitlin Bail Bonds, even though he free-lanced much of the time. She knew he’d never been a fan of business cards—felt they were unnecessary in his line of work. But Brandy had insisted that all of her hunters carry them—free advertising in case they ran into someone who needed a bail bondsman.
“Sam and Jennie still together?” Ike asked casually. She and Ike had had dinner and babysat for the Coopers on several occasions before the divorce. He’d liked them and their kids a lot.
Lindsay tucked his card into the pocket of her Windbreaker and nodded. “Some marriages work out.”
Ike met her eyes. “And some don’t.”
Like a happy little moth to a porch light, Millie came fluttering by with a coffeepot, still grinning and obviously hoping for a piece of good news. They’d camped out in her back booth in those short weeks before they’d decided to elope, talking, laughing, feeling the pull to touch, and trying to keep their hands to themselves. And Millie had taken it all in with grandmotherly glee.
“You folks want your drinks warmed up?”
Lindsay smiled up at her. “Thanks, Millie, but I have to leave soon.” Actually, she hadn’t even touched her tea. “Sam’ll think I deserted him.”
“Ike?” the proprietress asked hopefully.
“None for me, either. I have a full day ahead, too.”
Her smile turned to concern. “Chasing another bad guy?”
“The worst.”
“Then if you ask me, you need to get into another line of work,” she scolded. “You be careful.”
“I will, Millie. Thanks.”
When she’d gone again, Ike pulled a five from his wallet and laid it on the table.
Lindsay sent him a raised eyebrow. “Big tip.”
“No, two drinks and a tip.”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh.” Pushing to her feet, she took two singles from the pocket of her Windbreaker and dropped them on the table as Ike stood, too. “I pay my own way.
“Not when you’re with me.”
“I’m not with you.”
Ike scooped up her money, then slowly closed the distance between them. Lindsay’s pulse took off. Then with his patient gaze pinned to hers, he folded the bills and tucked them back into her pocket. Except he didn’t remove his hand.
“Save your money for lunch,” he murmured. “Or buy Sam some French fries.”
She felt his warm hand through her Windbreaker, felt it through her slacks…felt it all the way to her skin. The full force of his sexuality hit her squarely in the libido, and suddenly Lindsay resented his easy familiarity. He knew what his touch could do.
Shoving his hand away, she snatched the bills from her pocket and tossed them back on the table. “Sam doesn’t eat French fries anymore,” she said, letting him know he wasn’t as familiar with her or her life as he thought he was. “Triple bypass last fall.” Then, still battling that nervous clutching in her stomach, she backed away. “I’ll contact you after I talk with my mother.”
Three hours later, she and Sam Cooper were disinfecting the ambulance after transporting a man with a raging fever to the hospital when the phone in the ambulance bay rang. Sam tossed his sponge into the bucket and climbed out to answer it.
“It’s for you,” her crew-cut-wearing partner said when he returned.
“Who is it?”
Sam sent her a teasing look and a waggle of black brows. “Some guy, and he’s really hot to speak to you.”
Lindsay felt a quick flush as she scurried out and brushed past him. Behind her, Sam began to chuckle.
“So that’s what’s going on this morning. Maybe this call will improve your mood a bit, Crabby.”
“I’m not crabby,” she grumbled over her shoulder, “I’m just…thoughtful.”
“Then you’re thinking about the wrong stuff,” he called back.
But the voice on the phone didn’t belong to the man whose compelling brown eyes and rugged good looks had haunted her all morning. John Fielding wanted her to have dinner with him that night.
Lindsay rubbed the tension over her eyes. She hadn’t slept well, and Sam was right. She hadn’t smiled much today.
Thanks a lot, Ike.
“I’m sorry, John, but I’ve already made plans for this evening.” Although, John would be a lot easier to deal with than her mother was going to be. “Let’s just see each other next Saturday when I come by to help out at the bookstore.”
“Sure,” he replied, sounding
