…” he muttered casually, digging into his own perfectly roasted pheasant. “Tell me something about yourself. Were you born here in Portland? Did you grow up here? What about your family?”
All loaded questions, littered with pitfalls that could land her in very hot water. Without getting too detailed or giving away anything personal, she told him what she could, stretching the truth in some places and avoiding it altogether in others.
Before long, their plates were clean, their glasses of wine had been emptied and refilled at least once and they were chatting comfortably. More comfortably than Jessica ever would have expected. Almost like new friends. Or new ones, hoping to become even more ….
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