Latitude Thirty-Three,” she said with an unexpected wistfulness.
“I think they do. If you want we can go there after—”
“God, no.” She took a quick sip of her drink. “No one from Just Between Us wants to see me.”
“Why were you in the parking lot yesterday?”
She frowned. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Name it. I can’t seem to get it right.”
She tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t get you.”
“Me? I’m an open book.”
“Are you married?”
That annoyed him. “I wouldn’t be sitting here if I were.”
Liza shrugged. “Why? This is merely a friendly drink, yes? Plus, you’re celibate.”
He smiled. “I was ten minutes ago.”
She shook her head in mock exasperation. “Okay, were you ever married?”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?”
“You seem like the marrying kind. Kids. The white picket fence. Steady. Stable. You know the type.”
Evan knew exactly what she meant. Liza was on the wild side, which meant she’d find someone like that boring. The thing was, he pretty much was that guy. He would have had it all by now if Angela hadn’t screwed him. And, literally, two of his friends. “I have the white picket fence. Came with the house.”
Liza chuckled. “Ah, so you do have the whole house-and-mortgage thing.”
“Gotta live somewhere.”
Her expression fell and her shoulders sagged. “I think I’d like a house someday,” she said softly. “With a small yard and garden. Apartment living is getting old.”
“Where are you now?”
She looked warily at him. “You wouldn’t know the place. Anyway, I’m not even sure I’m staying in Atlanta. Probably won’t. Too hot and humid.”
“Great for growing gardens.”
She gave a shrug of indifference and in just those few seconds she became the old Liza. “I’m not really the hearth-and-home type. I was only making conversation.”
“Ah, I see.” He didn’t really. Better to let it go, though. “You must have something in mind, assuming you win the lawsuit.”
She’d just picked up her drink and it slid from her hand. Half the liquid sloshed onto her lap before she could right the glass. “Damn.”
He rose. “I’ll get a towel from the waitress.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ve got it.” She used both their cocktail napkins but he knew that couldn’t have done much good.
“I can get a towel.”
“No,” she said curtly, and then took a furtive look around before staring back down at her lap.
Only the couple at the next table had noticed, and they’d already restarted their conversation.
Evan just watched her swipe at her jeans with an angry frustration that went well beyond a spilled drink. She bit her lower lip so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood. He wanted to help, to at least say something comforting or funny to distract her, but he knew better. He had this really strong and unexpected feeling that Liza needed to battle her own demons.
T HIS WAS SO STUPID. She wasn’t about to dry her jeans this way, but she didn’t want to meet Evan’s eyes. Bet he was sorry that he’d asked her out. Served him right. What had he expected?
“Excuse me,” she said finally. “I need to go to the restroom and take care of this.”
She only briefly looked at him as she slid out of her seat. There was no pity in his eyes, not even curiosity. In fact, she didn’t know what to make of his bland expression.
“Shall I order you another drink?” he asked calmly.
“No, thanks,” she murmured, and gave him her back as she blindly searched for the ladies’ room.
It had to be in one of the corners, and it was the second place she looked. She didn’t give a damn about her jeans and went straight to the sink. She turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cold water. At the last moment she remembered that she’d actually applied a little makeup before coming out. Too late now.
Didn’t matter, though. Unlikely she’d see Evan again. He probably couldn’t wait to finish his drink and get rid of her. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already paid the bill. Ironically, she’d enjoyed being with him. He wasn’t as stuffy as she’d expected him to be. Still not her type, but he’d been pleasant company. Didn’t take her crap, either. Always a refreshing discovery.
The problem was, she hadn’t found out anything about the lawsuit. She knew damn well people gossiped around there, especially in the coffee room. Evan wasn’t the type to participate, but he still might’ve heard something useful.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she cringed at the dark circles under her eyes. A couple of years away from the big 3-0 and she already had pronounced crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes. Her skin was too pale, and now that she’d washed off the tinted moisturizer, she really looked like hell.
She pushed the hair away from her face and, as she’d seen her mother do a hundred times, a zillion years ago, Liza pinched her cheeks to give them some color. She didn’t do a very good job because the right side looked more like a bad mosquito bite. Great.
She grabbed a couple of paper towels and blotted her jeans, and then washed the stickiness off her hands. If Evan hadn’t already bolted, she’d come right out and ask him what he’d heard about the lawsuit. All he could do was tell her to get lost. But she doubted he’d do that. He was too much of a gentleman. And damn it, she liked that.
3
L IZA’ S HEART DID A funny little hop as she approached the table, and he smiled. His hair was too short for her taste, but he had great eyes, the perfect shade of whiskey-brown, and a square jaw with a dimple in the center of his chin that she found terribly appealing. That he had some stubble and wasn’t clean-shaven, as usual, was right up her alley.
The table had been cleaned off and her empty glass had been replaced with another tequila sunrise. She reclaimed her seat and noticed that he was also on his second beer. Guess he wasn’t going to run screaming from the room.
“Trust me with another drink, I see.” She decided not to point out that she’d said she didn’t want another.
“I asked for a lid but they didn’t have one.”
She
