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“Sorry. Sorry.” He turned right on North Lake Drive, which meandered along Lake Michigan toward downtown. “You were saying?”
“Oh. Yes.” She released her two-handed grip on the dash-board. “Smells that were frozen all winter thaw, scents of earth and grass and wind. The air softens into a caress instead of a razor slice. It’s wonderful.”
“Wow.” He glanced at her. “I can’t wait to see and hear and smell all that.”
“You will.” She wasn’t sure her description of the season was very Sexy Glamour Girl, but she’d gotten carried away wanting to communicate how special it was. Justin hadn’t seemed to care that she’d abandoned the I’m-so-hot act.
Clearly he had more depth than Randy Ralph who’d gotten itchy whenever a sentence lacked a double entendre he could guffaw over.
By the time they were opposite the Milwaukee yacht club, however, she was hot in an entirely literal way, and finally gave in, stripping off her sweater coat, exposing more thoroughly the Boobs of Wonder. “You like it really hot, don’t you, Justin?”
The car veered again; he swore under his breath. “Sorry.
Uh. I’m really sorry.”
“Ice?” She peered at the road, which looked clear and dry in the headlights.
“No, no.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Not ice. Mild brain malfunction.”
“Ah.” She studied him in concern. Had he been drinking?
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Really.” He met her eyes, his slightly sheepish.
“Before, when you stretched back with your eyes closed, I was, um, watching you instead of the road. And just now when you took off your sweater and asked me if I liked it hot…”
If Candy’s cheeks weren’t already flushed from inferno-car, they’d definitely be so now. She attempted a sensually 62
nonchalant pose, but Justin grinned wickedly and she couldn’t help laughing, glad when he laughed with her. “Where are we going for dinner?”
“Cempazuchi. You ever been?”
“No, but I’ve heard raves. I love Mexican food.”
“This is Mexican from the state of Oaxaca, way south on the Pacific coast, nearly to Guatemala. Supposed to be the closest I’ll get to Southern California here in town.”
“Or to Mexico.”
“Or to Mexico.” He laughed again, easily, relaxed and California laid-back; his attitude made her calmer. “Troy swears by it.”
“Troy is your book-mate?”
“My roommate in college, now we’re writing the book together, yeah.”
She tried to imagine Justin as a student. Had he been the party type? The serious scholar type? She’d guess somewhere in between. “Must be nice knowing someone in a new town.”
“It is. He grew up here, so he has lots of friends and knows the city inside out. The perfect introduction to Milwaukee, and a good starting place for building my own life.”
“You’re planning to settle here?” For some reason she felt hopeful.
“I’ll stay while we’re writing obviously, then see how the book does, whether the publisher will want more in the series.
Troy seems to think there will be more contracts coming, and I’m optimistic enough to have bought the house. But by that time I should have a good feel for how Milwaukee fits me.”
“How is it doing so far? Besides freezing you?”
“Not bad.” He turned away from the lake toward North Farwell Avenue. “Except for college in L.A., I’ve always lived in San Diego. I don’t know if anywhere else can feel like home.”
She felt wistful for him. “I hear you. I’ve lived in Milwaukee all my life, minus five years in Stevens Point, where the University of Wisconsin has a campus.”
“Did you do a five-year B.A. or get a master’s?”
“Neither. I hung around with a secretary job, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. My then- boyfriend was a year younger, so I stayed until he graduated.” She cleared her throat, hoping Justin hadn’t noticed her voice thickening.
“Then my grandmother died and left me the house in Shorewood, so we moved in.”
