style="font-size:15px;"> “No, darlin’.”
Darlin’. The word wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a cold night. No one had ever called her darlin’ before.
Vince muttered an oath. He had to end this now, before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life—and that could be a hell of a long time. “I’ve got to go.”
“Go?” She looked up at him. “But I thought…”
The disappointment in her eyes was like a dagger piercing his soul. “I’m sorry, Cara. I…” Dammit, what could he say to wipe that little girl lost look from her eyes?
“It’s all right,” she said quickly, and he could almost see her defensive walls springing into place.
“Cara, listen…”
“Hey, Cara, I was hoping you’d be here.”
Turning her back on Vince, she pasted a smile of welcome on her face. “Hello, Anton. It’s so good to see you,” she said with feigned enthusiasm.
Vince ground his back teeth together. Damn the man. The jerk’s timing couldn’t have been worse.
“Cara…” Vince laid his hand on her arm.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Oh, are you still here? I thought you were leaving.”
Vince nodded. Maybe it was better this way. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the club.
Cara stared after him a moment, the ache she felt inside almost too much to bear. She had spent the whole day looking forward to being with Vince. She had hoped…what had she hoped? That he would be her knight in shining armor? That he would fall head-over-heels in love with her and carry her off to his castle? What a fool she had been. Things like that only happened in fairy tales.
“It’s a beautiful night,” Anton remarked.
“What? Oh, yes, it is.”
He ran his forefinger up and down her arm. “Would you like to go for a drive?”
It was the last thing she wanted, but her bruised ego wouldn’t let her refuse. Vince Cordova might not want her, but Anton found her attractive and wanted her company.
Forcing a smile, she said, “sure”. Any second thoughts she had about going out with Anton were put to rest by the knowledge that Di Giorgio wouldn’t be far behind.
Anton escorted her to his car, a late model BMW. Ever the gentleman, he held the door for her before going around to the driver’s side.
A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Di Giorgio was right behind them.
Anton tuned the radio to a station that played soft rock, then leaned back, his arm resting along the back of the seat. “Any place you’d like to go?”
“No.”
“Are you in the mood for a hot fudge sundae? I know a place that makes the best ones in town.”
Determined to have a good time, she said, “Sounds good to me.” As any woman could tell you, chocolate healed a multitude of hurts.
Cara frowned when he pulled up in front of a bookstore. “They sell ice cream here?”
“Among other things.”
He got out of the car and came around to open her door.
“The Wiccan Heart,” Cara murmured. “Are you into witchcraft?”
“Who, me?” He shook his head. “I just like good ice cream.”
She felt a shiver of unease as she stepped inside. She didn’t know why. It was a lovely place, filled with books and trinkets, crystals and candles in a wide variety of colors. There was an old-fashioned soda fountain in the back corner, complete with stools covered in shiny red leather.
Cara sat down and Anton sat beside her. He smiled at the waitress. “Two hot fudge sundaes, Lucy Mae, and don’t spare the chocolate.”
“Whatever you want,” Lucy Mae replied with a saucy grin. “Your mother was asking for you earlier. She wants you to call her at home.”
“Okay, thanks.” Anton grinned at Cara. “My mother owns the place,” he explained with a wink.
“Oh. How nice.”
“Sit tight. I’d better call and make sure she’s okay.”
“All right.” Cara watched him walk to the other side of the room, pull out a cell phone, and punch in a number, and all the while she had the feeling she should get up and go home.
She was about to do just that when Anton returned.
Moments later, Lucy Mae placed two enormous hot fudge sundaes on the counter.
“Goodness!” Cara exclaimed. “I’ll never be able to eat all that!”
“That’s what you say now, but wait until you taste it.”
It was everything he said it would be and more. “I’ve never tasted anything like this,” she said, licking a bit of chocolate from her lower lip. “What do they put in it?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
She knew he was joking, but his words sent an icy chill down her spine. She didn’t know why, but she had always been superstitious about talking about death.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Anton said. “All I really know about you is that you’re a librarian, you like hot fudge sundaes, and you live at home. What are your parents like?”
“They’re just parents like…” She started to say like everyone else’s, but couldn’t make herself say the words. “They worry about me and want what’s best for me. I’m sure your mother is the same.”
“My mother,” he murmured. “Yes, of course.”
“Is she a witch?”
“Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“No reason. I mean, well, it’s a normal assumption, isn’t it? I mean, she owns a Wiccan book shop, after all.”
He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Witchcraft and the occult are all the rage now, that’s all. If onions and artichokes are popular next year, she’ll change the name and the decor.”
Cara grinned. “I’d like to see that.”
“I’d like to meet your parents,” Anton said. “Any chance I could wheedle a dinner invitation for, say, Sunday?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Some other night?”
She shook her head. “My
