have to keep you guessing somehow, don’t I?”
Scott watched as Jennifer struggled to come back from somewhere in the past and answer the question he had asked. It was not the first time he had seen memories cross her eyes, and he wondered what memory had just made her smile. “Every book we wrote had at least one major change in the plot by the time we finished writing the story. We would construct an outline for the book, then take turns writing chapters. Invariably Jerry would create a few extra twists in the story.”
Jennifer rested her hands loosely around the coffee mug and was amazed at how easy it was to talk to Scott about the past. Normally sharing about her life with Jerry brought back the pain, but not today. They were memories of good times, and she had thought they were gone forever.
She had been so embarrassed by her panicked flight, her reluctance to explain exactly how she had gotten the black eye. It had taken over a week to put the incident into the back of her mind, get past the embarrassment, and thankfully accept the fact she would never have to see Scott Williams again. The next morning her agent had called. Jennifer had wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Her one consolation had been the mistaken belief that Scott would have at least let the incident go. It had taken her forty-eight hours to work up the nerve to come back to this beach. She was glad now she had. Glad that now he knew the truth.
“You know what I do for a living, what about you, Scott?”
“I’m CEO of an electronics firm called Johnson Electronics.”
“Really?” She had expected him to be high up in some corporate setting, but she had not expected this answer. “How long have you been CEO?”
“Three years. They’ve been good years for the industry, so I haven’t had to weather my first downturn in the business. How well we do then will determine how good I am at this job.”
Interesting answer. A man who considered his performance under adversity to be the true measure of this worth. “You’ve been at Johnson Electronics a long time?” He was young to be a CEO.
“Eighteen years. I started out as a draftsman during my junior college days. I worked as an electrical engineer, got an MBA and moved into management.”
Jennifer asked him about every facet of the business she could think of—products, competitors, partners, financial numbers. She found the picture he presented of his company fascinating. He shared the smallest details, and she found his grasp of the business remarkable. It was obvious he loved his job. They talked for another thirty minutes before Jennifer rose to her feet and said it was time for her to be leaving.
“Jennifer, I’ve got tickets for the musical Chess next Saturday night. It’s an old play, kind of dated, but it’s a benefit performance and will be well attended. Would you like to join me?”
His offer caught her by surprise. She had to think about it for a few moments. She had not been on a date since Jerry died. She’d had no desire to. “Thank you, Scott, I would like that,” she finally replied. She was lonely. She knew it. And he was good no-pressure company. A night out would be a welcome diversion.
“The play starts at eight-thirty. I’ll pick you up at seven and we can have dinner first?”
She smiled and wondered how far he would extend the invitation if she let him. Dinner before and coffee afterward? “Sure, we can do dinner first,” she agreed.
He grinned and she liked the grin. “Good. I want an address and a phone number.”
She laughed. “I like my privacy, hence the unlisted phone number.” She wrote down the information on a piece of paper he pulled from a notepad beside the phone.
As he walked with her across the back patio and down to the beach, she slipped on her jacket and freed her long hair from the collar. “Thank you for breakfast, Scott.”
“It was my pleasure, Jennifer. I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock Saturday.”
Chapter Two
She was late. Jennifer rushed up the front walk of her home, fumbling with her keys. Scott was going to arrive in less than an hour. Her detour to Rachel and Peter’s to drop off a book had been a mistake. Her brother had wanted to debate the wisdom of her ending the Thomas Bradford mystery series and she hadn’t been able to invent an adequate excuse to leave. She knew better than to mention Scott and a date. She would never have gotten out of there. Peter took the responsibility of being her older brother very seriously.
Jennifer pushed open the front door to be met with the fragrant smell of roses. The bouquet sitting in the center of her dining room table had arrived Wednesday. Three dozen red, white and peach roses. The card had simply said “Looking forward to Saturday—Scott.” Jennifer had started crying. She couldn’t help it. It had been a long time since anyone had sent her roses.
“Jerry, I got a special delivery today.” Jennifer was curled up beside her husband on the couch, using his shoulder as a pillow. The credits of the late, late movie were beginning to roll by.
“You did?” Jerry asked, feigning surprise. His finger gently traced the curve of her jaw.
She smiled. “I think it was a bribe.”
“What was it?”
“Two dozen red roses.”
“It was a bribe,” Jerry agreed. “You know how much red roses cost these days?” he asked, amused.
She giggled.
“So what do you suppose this mystery person wants?”
Jerry leaned down to kiss her. “That’s hard to say,” he said softly. “I suppose you had better ask him.”
Jennifer turned on the couch to face him. “So what do you think my husband would like in return for two dozen red roses?”
The memory stopped Jennifer in the doorway. She sighed. These memories were going to drive her crazy.
She dressed with care. She had shopped for a new outfit. Those in her closet held too many memories. She had found a light green, long-sleeved dress. It looked expensive, moved with grace, and it helped her badly shaking self-esteem. She had bought a purse and new shoes to go with the dress. The gold necklace and earrings she wore had been a gift from Jerry.
She was ready before Scott arrived. To keep from pacing back and forth Jennifer went into her office, picked up the black three-ring binder on her desk and the red pen beside it. She turned on the stereo, already tuned to a favorite jazz station. Finding the page marked with a paper clip, she picked up the work where she’d left off, soon forgetting the time.
The doorbell rang. Quickly slipping the paper clip onto the top of the page she was on, she set the book back on the desk and went to answer the door.
He stood there, looking at the profusion of flowers growing around her porch, elegantly dressed in black slacks and an ivory dress shirt, contained, comfortable. A pleased smile lit his face as he turned and saw her. “Hello, Jennifer.”
She smiled back. “Hello, Scott.” She stepped back to let him enter her home. “Thank you for the flowers.” She motioned to the arrangement, already nervous.
“You’re welcome,”
