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“Hey, Jane,” Ty said as they passed her.

“Ty,” Jane called above the sounds of the band warming up.

“Yeah?”

“You might want to wipe that red lipstick off before you go on stage.”

Michelle had no doubt that her face had turned the same color as her lips.

He grinned and rubbed the back of his hand across his lips. “Thanks, Jane. Michelle attacked me.”

Michelle held her head high and kept moving, grateful for the low light. For once she didn’t care who knew her business. Ty was at least speaking to her.

* * *

Ty had hardly been able to believe his eyes when he’d seen Michelle in the audience. He’d done a true double-take. He hadn’t had to wonder if she’d come to see him—it was as good as written all over her face. Her eyes were for him only.

He’d worked his way to her table after the first set to find her not there. Without asking, Jane had pointed him in the direction of the restroom. He’d tried to look casual as he’d waited for Michelle to come out, but his insides had been churning. Thinking of little else but wanting Michelle and remembering those extraordinary hours they’d spent together had made the last two weeks apart horrible.

He wanted her to regret treating what had been the hottest night of passion he’d ever experienced as if he’d been there only to help her through a bad time. But to be fair, he hadn’t led her to believe that their relationship would be anything but a casual thing, only lasting until he left. He hadn’t changed his mind. But at least this way she wouldn’t expect something more, something he couldn’t give.

When Michelle had finally emerged from the ladies room he’d wavered between relief and insecurity. Would she be glad to see him?

He’d meant to be cool, to act as if her being there hadn’t affected him. It had worked for a little while before he’d had to touch her. And what had he done? Attacked her like a teen in heat. He grinned. She’d seemed to enjoy it. It had been almost painful to leave her with her lips swollen from his kisses and a flame of desire glowing in her eyes to return to the stage.

Now he was trying to focus on his music despite his attention continually returning to Michelle. Her eyes were always there to meet his. She had a slight smile on her face, which pleased him. Beautiful any time, Michelle was radiant when she smiled. Something she was doing more often now. She deserved to be happy.

The band finished their final number and said goodnight. Ty put up his guitar and shook hands with the other members. He searched the area where Michelle had been sitting and found her no longer there. After a moment of panic, he located her waiting near an empty booth across the room. With an excited skip to his heart he grinned and joined her.

“I saw this one open and thought I should get it before someone else did.” She returned his smile.

“Great. You have a seat. I’ll go to the bar and order those burgers. What would you like to drink?”

“A soda would be fine,” she said as she slid into one of the bench seats.

Ty laid his guitar case on the other bench and made his way across the room. He hurriedly placed their order, worried that Michelle might change her mind and leave. Had he ever felt so insecure about a woman before?

Returning to the table, he said to Michelle, “Scoot over. Emily is taking up all the room on the other side.”

She wrinkled up her forehead. “Emily?”

“Yeah. My guitar.”

She moved further into the booth. “You named your guitar.”

“Sure. Doesn’t everybody?” He slipped in beside her, moving close enough that her thigh met his from hip to knee. If he could get away with it, he’d say forget the burgers and let’s go home but was afraid he’d scare her off. He’d already come on too strong.

“I don’t know. I don’t play a guitar.”

“Maybe I’ll teach you someday.” He picked up her hand and began caressing each finger. “With these long fingers I bet you could make lovely music.”

She gently pulled her hand away. “Who knows? I might just take you up on that offer some time. Now, tell me what you were saying about a table here being named for my father.”

“See that booth over there.” He pointed across the room. “There’s a little gold plaque on the table with your daddy’s name on it.”

“How do you know?”

“I was in here the other day and happened to sit at that booth. When I read the plaque I knew the Ross had to be yours.” She looked as if she wanted to push him out of the way and go and have a look.

“I had no idea.”

“I figured you didn’t,” he said.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t know, maybe you pretty much told me that you had used me and didn’t plan to have any more to do with me.”

She had the good grace to appear ashamed. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to imply that.”

By the expression on her face, he believed she was. “I can’t really blame you. I’ve never given you any indication that I wanted more.”

Her eyes grew wide and she looked at him expectantly. “Do you?”

Ty tightened his lips and shook his head slightly. “No. I’ll be leaving in three weeks. That’s how it has to be.”

She gave him a resigned look of understanding and looked away.

He needed to get them back on an even footing again, change the subject. “Hey, when that couple leaves we’ll have a look.”

One of the barmaids brought their meals and refilled their drinks before she turned to another table.

“I can’t eat all this!” Michelle exclaimed. “This burger is bigger than I remember.”

“I sure can. I’m starving,” Ty said, picking up his burger from beside a pile of French fries.

Minutes later, with half his burger gone and Michelle well into hers, he said, “So tell me about your father.”

He smiled as she wiped her mouth daintily. She was all lady, even in a bar and grill.

She finished a fry. “Well, he was an accountant with one of the banks here in town.”

Ty looked at her. “That’s what he did for a living. Tell me about him.”

Her eyes held a solemn look. She blinked and leaned back into the corner of the booth. As if the words were water pouring out of a pitcher, she said, “His name was Alan William Ross. He played basketball in high school, he liked to fish, and loved to laugh. Fried chicken was his favorite Sunday meal. He wore suits when he went to work and refused to wear one on the weekend. He went with me to the mall one Saturday afternoon but he didn’t come home with me.”

“What happened?”

“He died of a heart attack at forty-two years old.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too.” She looked around the room. “I miss him every day. He brought me here the Saturday he died.”

“No wonder you haven’t been back. It must have been tough to come tonight.”

Michelle’s look met his. “It was. In more ways than one.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“I am too.”

Michelle straightened again, bringing her leg back into contact with his. Where it belonged. They ate in silence for a while. Ty enjoyed sharing a meal with someone, especially when it was Michelle. He was starting to discover that the loner life didn’t have as much appeal has it once had.

“Now it’s your turn,” she said, eating her burger with more gusto than she had before. “You know about my family. How about yours?”

The last bite of his burger lodged in his throat. He forced it down. This wasn’t where he’d been planning to go when he’d asked about Michelle’s father. His parents, his past were things better left alone.

“I don’t think you want to know about them.” With a relief that knew no bounds, he watched as the couple that had been sitting in the booth they’d been waiting for left. “If you’re done, we can go and look at that plaque now.”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Ty watched as Michelle ran her index finger over the gold-colored plaque on the worn wooden table. “Alan Ross sat here.”

“Ty.” She looked at him and said, “Thank you for this. I’ll have to tell my mother.” She slipped her hand into his.

He squeezed it. “How is she?”

“Doing better than she has in months. She’s no worse for wear after her stay in the hospital. She’s even starting to get out more. Maybe she has turned the corner.”

“I sure hope so. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind giving me a ride home? My motorcycle is still in the shop.”

“Oh, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten to ask about your injuries. You don’t seem to be favoring them anymore.”

“They are all better. My palm is still tender but that’s no big deal.” He put his hand out to show her.

“When did you have the stitches taken out of your knee?”

“I took them out early last week.”

“Figures,” Michelle said with a curl of her lips.

“If you want to give them some TLC, be my guest.”

“Do they need it?”

“No, but I do love getting attention from you. Especially if you’re washing my hair,” he said with a grin.

She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “Maybe if you’re on your best behavior…”

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