Looking for Laura (35 page)

“Why did you disappear like that?”

Because I was jealous. Because I couldn't bear to see you gazing at Laura the way Paul must have gazed at her, the way a man gazes at a woman he adores
. “You and Laura seemed to be getting along just fine without me,” she said. “I wasn't really needed.”

“You weren't
needed?
What's that supposed to mean?”

“It's supposed to mean that you and Laura were getting along just fine without me, reminiscing about what a swell guy Paul was. The two of you have so much in common. She's beautiful and you've got eyes. She's wealthy beyond words, and you drive a Saab. She loved Paul and so did you.”

“Paul was a two-timing asshole. He cheated on Laura, too, don't forget. He didn't tell her he was married for quite a while.”

“You're right. Gee, I feel so sorry for her.” Sally silenced herself with a sip of lemonade. It definitely tasted more bitter than sweet.

“And meanwhile, you decided to disappear. One minute I'm talking with Laura, and the next minute I'm worrying that you took a wrong turn on your way to the bathroom and wound up in Long Island Sound.”

“Big deal. I can swim.”

“You know what?” He sounded seriously pissed off. “You're crazy.”

“I am not.”

“I can't believe you just vanished like that.”

“It was what I wanted to do,” she said, at last feeling
defiant enough to look at him. Her vision filled with him, his dark eyes, his gloriously thick hair, the sharp angle of his jaw, the sensuous line of his mouth even when he was scowling. “I wanted to walk away from the whole thing. Laura, my stupid marriage, my cheating husband, everything. I just wanted to walk away, and I did.”

“You wanted to walk away from me?”

“As you said, you were talking to Laura—for more than one minute, if you want to get technical about it.” He was too handsome. Too big and strong and angry, and sexy. She lowered her gaze back to the knife lying on the table.

“The lady needed to talk. She missed Paul. She's still in mourning for him. I didn't think you'd mind, since you don't seem to be in mourning for him anymore.” He hesitated, and when he resumed, he sounded troubled and tense. “Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you're still in mourning for him.”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Then
you
. You were obviously turned on by her—”

“You're crazy.” But he sounded less angry. “She was like something from another planet, Sally.”

“The rich, gorgeous planet.”

“The affected, pretentious planet. She was—God, I can't believe I'm saying this, but she was too thin. I've recently discovered that I'm a breast and thigh man.”

“Wonderful. I'll order you a chicken.”

“You're the chicken. You're the one who ran away.”

“I didn't run,” she snapped, although her anger was fading along with his. “I walked. I didn't feel like sitting on the sidelines watching yet another man make a fool of himself over Laura.”

“Oh, so letting her talk about Paul makes me a fool? Maybe I'm just a nice guy.”

Sally snorted. The hula girl looked as if she was winking at her. “Did she tell you why Paul gave her this?”

“She said he'd wanted to give her something she could never get anywhere else. With all her money and connections, she could have bought pretty much anything she wanted. But she couldn't have bought anything as tacky and cheap as that knife. That was why Paul gave it to her.”

“And she didn't mind giving it back?”

“Not once she heard how much it meant to you.”

“In other words, she thinks I'm tacky and cheap.”

“Well you are, aren't you?”

She glanced up sharply to discover Todd grinning. Pursing her lips, she reached for the knife. He clamped his hand over hers, warming her skin, warming all the chill out of her.

“You're not going to stab me, are you?” he asked.

“Not today. If I stab you, I can't get a ride back to Winfield with you.”

“Admit it—you love my car.”

“I hate your car.”

“I love you, Sally.”

Her mouth softened. So did her heart. Her eyes filled with tears, tears she'd never wanted Todd to see, tears she'd never expected to shed. He'd said he loved her, the only thing she needed to hear, and she wanted to bawl her head off.

“Do you mean that?” she asked.

“No. I'm lying. I think we've both discovered how much lying can enrich a relationship.” He shook his head. “Laura is the end of a story, that's all. I'm a newspaperman. I had to see the story through to the end, and
maybe make a little sense out of it. How on earth could you think that meant I was turned on by her?”

“Given her attributes, it's hard to imagine you
wouldn't
be turned on by her.”

“Well, I wasn't. You're the one who turns me on, Sally. You.” Even as he pinned her hand to the table, he moved his thumb gently against her wrist. “I don't know how this happened. I sure wasn't planning to fall in love with you.”

“But you brought Band-Aids?”

It took him a minute to understand what she was saying. Then he smiled. “You make me laugh. You make me feel. And then—the thought that my talking to Laura could make you jealous—”

“I wasn't jealous. Just because she's everything I'm not—”

“Which is exactly why I'm here, with you.”

A few tears escaped and slid down her cheeks. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

His fingers tightened on her, letting her know he'd heard her. Then he released her wrist and handed her her napkin, which she used to wipe her tears. “Let's go.”

“I've still got half a glass of lemonade.”

He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it in three gulps. “There. It's finished.”

He set down the glass, rose from his chair and pulled her out of hers. When he wrapped his arms around her, she very nearly started crying all over again, and laughing, and demanding that he tell her one more time that he loved her, just so she could be sure. But she
was
sure. His hug told her he loved her. The kiss he planted on her lips told her. The passion and tenderness in his gaze told her.

“Let's go home,” he said.

She dropped the knife into her tote bag, took his hand and walked out of the café with him, into the blazing sun, thinking there was nothing in the world she'd rather do than go home with Todd.