with mutual discomfort. Reese felt the muscles in his back stiffen, and knew his reaction had nothing to do with Callie’s personal connection with his former fiancée. He always had this disturbing visceral response to the woman, a woman most looked past in order to focus on her more glamorous sister.
Reese suspected that was exactly what Callie wished people to do.
“Miss Mitchell.” Her name came out sounding oddly tortured, even to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “You are looking quite lovely this evening, as well.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bennett.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his, nor did she make a move to enter the box fully. Shadows still curtained most of her hair and face.
“Mrs. Singletary.” He addressed the widow once again, wondering at her sudden arrival. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“The theater is far too full of people milling about, even on the landings between the tiers of box seats.” She flicked a wrist in the direction of the curtain behind her. “We thought we might escape the maddening crush and sit with you a moment before the rest of the performance begins.”
Odd. The maddening crush had never bothered her before. He’d seen her happily mingling amid the largest of crowds. He couldn’t help but wonder again at her sudden presence.
“Please, come in and relax, partake in the desserts the Tabor has provided for my father and me tonight.”
Gesturing to his right, Reese stepped aside to let the woman pass.
The widow went directly to the small buffet table and studied the offerings. After a moment, she released a weighty sigh. “There are too many choices. Come closer, Callie.” She waved the girl forward. “I shall rely on you to fill my plate.”
“Yes, Mrs. Singletary.” Callie hesitated only a beat before moving, her steps surprisingly graceful for a woman of her height, a mere head shorter than his six feet two inches.
She floated along like a snowflake, slowly, smoothly and icily controlled. Eventually, she emerged from the shadows completely and Reese’s heart kicked an extra hard beat.
His stomach knotted with tension.
Did Callie know the way she’d ruthlessly secured her pale blond hair off her face displayed her arresting features in startling detail?
His stomach rolled again.
This was not a new reaction for Reese, nor was it in any way a pleasant sensation. Callie Mitchell disturbed him.
He shook aside the thought, not wishing to dwell on how she made him...feel. Yet he could not look away from those sculpted cheekbones, the perfectly bowed lips and green, green eyes the color of summer-fresh leaves.
What a picture Callie Mitchell made. So pretty. So perfectly upright. Not a hair out of place. Not a wrinkle in her gown. An image that didn’t completely ring true. The woman was too controlled, too perfectly put together.
Reese sensed she hid something a little wild beneath that measured calm. He’d sensed it from the start of their acquaintance and thus had made a point of avoiding her more often than not.
“Mr. Bennett, how are you enjoying this evening’s performance so far?” Mrs. Singletary asked him the question as she sat on a chair beside him, settling her skirts around her with practiced ease. “Do you not find the music lovely?”
“Lovely, no. I find it extremely haunting.”
A soft gasp came from Callie’s direction.
He ignored the sound, and the woman. “The story itself is far too tragic to be considered enjoyable,” he added.
“Isn’t that interesting?” The widow reached out her hand and accepted the plate full of tea cakes and chocolates from her companion, who for some reason looked entirely disconcerted. “Callie made those exact observations not twenty minutes ago.”
“Indeed.” Uncomfortable hearing that he and Callie shared the same opinion, Reese adjusted his stance and deflected the conversation back to the widow. “I believe you were instrumental in bringing this particular troupe of performers to Denver. What do you think of their efforts so far?”
It was the perfect question to ask. The widow set about telling him her precise opinion. In great detail.
Listening with only half an ear, he nodded at all the appropriate places. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Callie returned to the buffet table. She contemplated the offerings once again. A delicate frown of concentration spread across her brow.
She huffed out a small frustrated breath. Though it had taken her no time to decide what to pick out for her employer, she seemed at a loss when it came to filling her own plate.
Reese found himself oddly riveted.
Would she choose a soft, gooey confection? Or something with more substance? Maybe a mixture of both.
He had no idea why it would matter to him. What could her choices possibly mean in the grand scheme of the evening’s events?
“Oh, my, Mr. Bennett, that is quite the fierce expression on your face.” Mrs. Singletary’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I take it you disagree with me.”
He silently filed through the widow’s last words. “In my opinion, four duets are three too many.”
She let out a soft laugh. “You haven’t enjoyed one moment of the tonight’s production, have you?”
“No.”
His brief response seemed to amuse her further. “I see even in matters of entertainment I can count on your candor.”
It did not occur to him to be anything less than frank.
“But, truly, are you not pleased with any portion of tonight’s performance?”
“Not in the least.”
Watching Callie’s attempt to make a decision, however, enthralled him to no end.
Mrs. Singletary made a disapproving sound in her throat. “Are you considering leaving the theater early, then?”
“I am.”
“I cannot persuade you otherwise?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
He continued watching Callie hover over the buffet table. She was being so very, very careful and working so very, very hard to pick just the right confections to put on her plate. Her scrupulous process was oddly sweet and utterly adorable and Reese couldn’t bear to watch another moment more.
“Pick one of each, Miss Mitchell.”
Her responding flinch warned him his suggestion had come out harsher than he’d meant. He softened his voice. “There is no need to be particular. There is plenty to go around.”
“I... Yes, thank you.”
She began filling her plate with more enthusiasm. Halfway through, though,
