out, Wolfe, he advised himself, taking a sip of the now-warm beer to dislodge the catch. More than most, he knew how deceptive appearances could be.
Take this group, for example, he mused, shifting his eyes from Tina’s tender expression to sweep the occupants of the two tables with a swift but encompassing glance.
They all appeared to be perfectly normal, average, law-abiding citizens. But were they? Ah, there’s the question, Eric thought, appearing quite normal and average himself as he laughed at a quip from Bill. He was in a particularly good position to know that appearances quite often did not reflect reality.
From the bits and pieces he had picked up from the conversations around the table during the demolition of the pizza—which had actually exceeded its reputation—Eric had gleaned the information that the careers of the individuals were diverse, ranging from carpenter to corporate middle manager and several different job descriptions in between, including Tina’s ownership of the florist shop. All quite normal, with such a varied assortment of individuals.
Perhaps. Keeping his expression free of his speculative thoughts, Eric skimmed the faces around him. But on the other hand, he reasoned, for all he and the world knew, this varied assortment of individuals with diverse career pursuits might well be in the business of supplementing their incomes with the profits garnered by dealing in illegal substances.
Of course, the world would continue to revolve in its ignorance. Eric fully intended to glean the necessary information, first thing in the morning, or as soon as Cameron could gather it for him.
The search might prove fruitless. Eric hoped it would; he was enjoying their company. Nevertheless, the investigation and follow-up would be done, whether the results were good, bad or merely indifferent.
Meanwhile, there was a question about Tina. A very big, very unsavory question.
Was she mixed up in a narcotics mess?
Her attractive peal of laughter drew Eric’s attention—and his hooded eyes—to her profile. She was looking at Nancy at the end of the second table, laughing appreciatively at whatever the other woman had said. Once again he felt that odd catch in his throat.
Why did she have to be so damned appealing? Eric asked himself, studying her with an appearance of lazy disinterest. The problem was, there wasn’t a thing lazy or disinterested about his perusal of her.
Merely looking at Tina reactivated the memory of her slender thighs banding his hips and posterior, driving a wedge of heat to the apex of his thighs.
Damn. He was hard. Eric drew a long, slow breath and shifted unobtrusively in the chair, easing his leg to the side, away from the too-enticing touch of hers.
What was it about this particular woman? he wondered, sketching his gaze over Tina, from the top of her shimmering blond hair to the slender ankles beneath the hem of her wool slacks, lingering on the gentle curves in between.
She was attractive.... Okay, she was more than attractive, he conceded. Her petite frame held infinite allure. Her face, though not classically beautiful, was delicately featured, lovely, with that mass of honey blond hair contrasted with dark brown eyes and brows and an abundance of long lashes above a small, straight nose and a delectable pair of lips made for crushing by a man’s passion-hardened mouth.
Eric swallowed a groan and shifted again. What in hell was he doing to himself? Now he was not only hard, he was hot and uncomfortable, and he had completely lost the thread of the ongoing conversation.
Maybe it was time to cut out of here, he thought. Get some fresh air. Get some rest. Get a grip.
Lifting a hand to his mouth, Eric covered a manufactured yawn. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you folks,” he announced, pushing his chair back away from the table, distancing himself from Tina. “But I’m ready for bed.”
“Yeah, me too,” Bill said, stifling a genuine yawn. “I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
Three of the others agreed that it was time to leave, since they also had to work. The remaining members of the group protested. Tina stayed silent, but stared at Ted in mute supplication.
“But it’s not that late,” Helen pointed out.
“Only a little after twelve,” Mike said, glancing at his watch.
“We can stay for a while,” Ted insisted, seemingly unconscious of the appeal in Tina’s eyes. “You’re not ready, are you, Tina?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Ted.” Though she smiled, she also sighed. “I’m tired, and I have a lot of orders to get out early tomorrow morning.”
Ted frowned.
Figuring it was worth one more shot, Eric spoke up. “I can take Tina along with me, Ted, if you want to stay. I live right up the street from her.”
“You do?”
Though Ted asked the question, all the others looked at Eric in surprise.
“Yes.” Eric smiled. “I moved into the neighborhood a couple of days ago.”
“Well...” Ted began uncertainly.
“No.” Tina’s smile was pleasant, but her tone was adamant. “We can stay for a little while, Ted.”
Good-nights were exchanged, and Eric turned to leave. As he did, he caught the glow of triumph gleaming in the brown depths of Tina’s eyes.
Think you’ve won, do you? A grin twitched Eric’s lips as he strode for the exit. Tina, my sweet, all you’ve won is a minor skirmish, he told her in silent amusement.
We’ll see who wins the war.
Three
The city transit bus ran over a pothole. The resulting bump shuddered through the vehicle and the few remaining passengers still on board near the end of the line.
The jarring sensation rippled up Tina’s spine to the back of her neck, aggravating the throbbing pain in her temples. The pain had been little more than an annoying ache when she awakened that morning. Not enough sleep, she had thought, dragging her tired body from the bed to the bathroom.
A stinging shower had not revived her lethargic body or relieved the ache in her head. Telling herself that she should have insisted Ted bring her home at a reasonable hour didn’t help much, either. Tina hadn’t insisted; Ted and the others who had remained in the tavern had lingered on long after the rest of their friends had called it a night, talking and drinking, until the bartender had shouted his nightly last-call-for-drinks warning. And even then she had not been able to go directly home, as she had assumed the responsibility of driving Ted and the others to their respective homes.
Then, with the prolonged goodbyes at each successive house or apartment, it had been very late when she finally crawled into bed.
When she left her house that morning, Ted’s car was parked in her driveway. Although Ted had urged her to use it to get to work, Tina had flatly refused, unwilling to take on the added responsibility of driving his fairly new car in the morning and evening rush hours.
And
