gave a rueful smile. “I can’t resist their bread sticks.”
David grinned. “I know what you mean.” He leaned back against his chair and set himself to put her at ease. “So, Erin Kelly, what part of Ireland are your ancestors from?”
She gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. That information was never passed on.” She smiled and reached for her glass. “I have a suspicion the earliest Kelly to reach America’s shores didn’t want that knowledge made public.”
“Aha! Skeletons!” David rubbed his hands together.
Erin laughed. “Careful. Your reporter radar is showing.” She took a swallow of water and put her glass down. “What about you? Where do your people come from?”
“I have no idea. I’m just glad they had the good sense to come here.”
“Amen to that.”
She sounded sincere and utterly natural. Was she religious? David’s smile faded. It was the first flat note struck since he’d met her.
“Your lemonade, Mr. Carlson.” The server placed it in front of him, then gathered the menus under his arm. “And your order?”
David glanced at Erin. She nodded. He looked back at the server. “We’ll have the antipasto tray with choice of dressings on the side. Bread sticks—” he smiled “—double up on the bread sticks. And minestrone for me. Erin?” She held up her hand with the thumb and forefinger only an inch or so apart. He nodded. “Make that two minestrones—one large, one small.”
“Very good, sir.” The server hurried away.
David took a swallow of his drink, then put down his glass and leaned forward. “Professor Stiles seems like quite a character. Do you enjoy working with him?” Her face warmed. It was the only way he could describe it. He knew before she spoke she admired Robert Stiles.
“Yes, I do. Very much. I know he seems rather a cliché character—you know, rough exterior, heart of gold—but in his case it’s absolutely true. He started the center, and he fights like a lion when anyone threatens to stop funding the literacy program. Our slogan is When You Open A Book, You Open The World. That’s why this grant is so important. You have no idea how many adults there are who cannot read or write—or do so at a minimal level.”
She looked fully into his eyes, and for a moment he lost the thread of the conversation.
“—and when a person can read and write their possibilities are endless. At the center we see these adults go from hopeless to hopeful.” Suddenly she stopped. “I’m sorry, Mr. Carlson. I didn’t mean to make a speech.”
David put on a mock frown. “That’s David, remember? We agreed on that earlier. But, to get back to the point—please don’t apologize. I like people who are passionate about the things they believe in.” He gave her his most charming smile. “I think there’s a little of the lion in you, too, when it comes to the literacy program.”
“Perhaps so. It’s very important to me.”
David stared at her, taken aback by the quiet acknowledgment. He wasn’t accustomed to having his openings for a little flirting ignored. He took another tack. “Professor Stiles said you were the program coordinator. I’m not familiar with the way the program is set up. Is that a paid position?”
“It will be starting in July—thanks to the grant. At the moment no one in the program is salaried. It’s all volunteer. Our funds have been used only for needed teaching supplies.”
“What about rent?”
“Professor Stiles owns the building we use and he doesn’t take a dime for rent. He even pays the taxes out of his own pocket.” Affection warmed her smile. “I told you he has a heart of gold.”
Or a comfortable tax writeoff. That would have to be investigated. David took another swallow of lemonade, then leaned back out of the way while the server returned and placed their food on the table. When the man left, David laid his napkin over his leg, filled his plate from the antipasto tray and drizzled dressing over it. “I know Professor Stiles works at the university, but what about you, Erin? Since you’ve been volunteering all your time and talent, you must be one of the idle rich.”
Her laughter sounded like music.
“I’m afraid not.” She looked up from fixing her plate. “I’ve only been able to volunteer at Westwood a few evenings a week. But that will all change now. School will be out in three weeks, and I’ll begin full-time work at the center.”
“School?” David lifted the wicker basket, folded back the napkin and held the basket out to Erin. “You’re a teacher?”
She nodded, took a bread stick and broke it in half before putting it on her bread plate. “I teach kindergarten at Living Hope Christian School.”
The moment turned sour—not to mention his stomach. “I’m sure that’s very rewarding.” It was a lame response, but it was the best he could dredge up.
“Yes, it is.” She gave him a long, measuring look, then bowed her head.
She was saying grace! David resisted the urge to get up and walk away. He set the basket down, sliced off a bite of prosciutto, stabbed it with his fork, then added a sliver of green pepper and began to eat.
Erin lifted her head and their gazes met. David ignored the reactive quickening of his pulse and turned all business. He wanted to wrap up this interview, say goodbye and bolt out the door. It was a good thing she had insisted on driving her own car—they could go their separate ways when the meal was over. “I think I’ll find enough general information about the center in the brochure you gave me, Erin. Why don’t you tell me about the grant.”
Erin opened her car door, then turned and swept her gaze over the stucco and beam exterior of Carlo’s Villa. She wasn’t used to eating leisurely business lunches in fancy restaurants—she belonged to the “grab a sandwich and get back to work” crowd. And that’s exactly what she needed to do—get back to work.
Erin slid into the driver’s seat, secured her seatbelt, switched on the ignition and looked in the rearview mirror. A man and woman, standing beside a car in the row directly behind her, were locked in a passionate kiss. The man ran his hand over the woman’s body, pressing her close against him.
Erin jerked her gaze away, shifted into Reverse and looked over her shoulder as she backed out. The man stopped whatever he was doing to the woman’s neck and lifted his head to glance toward the moving vehicle.
Jerry!
Erin gasped. Of its own volition, her foot jammed on the brakes and the car jolted to a stop. The woman turned her head to look. Dr. Swan’s new receptionist!
Erin’s stomach knotted. She whipped around to face front, locking her gaze on the mirror. Jerry mouthed something to the young woman, and they resumed their embrace with increased ardor. Erin swallowed back a surge of nausea, shifted gears and drove away. All thought of her pleasant lunch disappeared as a wave of anger washed over her at seeing her sister’s live-in boyfriend with another woman.
Chapter Two
“You were off your
