Private Lives. Karen Young
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They were approaching the restaurant, which had half a dozen umbrella-covered tables set outside. She stopped and looked about, caught in full sunshine. Her hair was an incredible color, he thought, not red, but a dark auburn and shot through with rich fiery highlights. Thick and lustrous, it fell to her shoulders, wanting to curl in Houston’s humid air—going its own untamed way. He preferred her looking natural and feminine, as she did now in jeans and soft T-shirt. As for those green eyes…A man could learn to love the look of a woman like Liz.
“Liz—” He stopped her as she started inside. She turned, giving him a questioning look. “After this is over, would you have dinner with me? Could we get to know each other better without all the complications of Austin…and everything else?”
“I…don’t know.” She frowned.
“Are you seeing somebody?”
“No. It’s just—” Shaking her head, she looked sort of frantically at the traffic. “I’m really not interested in…that.”
He smiled, a half tilt of his mouth, knowing the risk he took teasing her. “Don’t tell me Austin’s tacky accusations were right after all?”
“Austin’s—” She looked confused a second or two before she understood. “Oh, that Gina and I—” She stopped, giving a soft laugh. “No, his accusations were probably a fantasy in his own mind. He’s just that sick.” She glanced at the door. “Are we having lunch or not?”
She hadn’t promised to go out with him, but he hadn’t been completely shot down, either, he thought. He felt hopeful. “Want to sit outside?”
Also available from MIRA Books and KAREN YOUNG
FULL CIRCLE
GOOD GIRLS
IN CONFIDENCE
Private Lives
Karen Young
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m grateful to several people for advice, information and moral support in the writing of this book. To Metsy Hingle for the idea and a long list of other favors. To Emilie Richards for being a sensitive and insightful sounding board when I needed it most. To my daughter, Alison Simmons, who is tireless and patient with me in avenues of my career that do not include sitting at my computer and writing. To Jon Salem for his canny grasp of the workings of the publishing world, and the world at large, and his willingness to share it with me. To my nephew, Mike Farris, for the boat stuff. And finally, to my editor, Valerie Gray, with thanks for her astute suggestions and attention to detail.
Contents
One
“Lizzie. What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost.”