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end of the world. You’ll go on to lure many more men into your…life.”
“Thank you.” Candy seemed to be melting with relief. “I so needed to hear all that. I almost feel sane again.”
“No problem, honey. Take care.” She clicked off the phone and tucked it into her purse, feeling awkward now that her illusion of privacy had been breached by the interaction with Quinn. Expectation hung in the air that something about that brief connection needed to be acknowledged. Maybe it would be a good idea to start chatting, feel him out to see if he’d be as good for Darcy as Marie suspected.
“I’m sorry for eavesdropping. I wasn’t trying to, but a few key words jumped out.”
Ta da. Marie had been saved the trouble of an opening, though she was well aware that if a babe had been around, his opening shot would not have been lobbed to Marie.
“Hard not to hear when it’s so quiet tonight.” And when you have the hearing power of a cat. She smiled her professional smile, the one she used to welcome prospective clients.
He moved one seat closer and leaned toward her, holding out his hand. “Quinn Peters. I’ve seen you here a few times.”
“Marie Hewitt.” She shook his hand. Peters. She liked the name. Quinn and Darcy Peters. Very nice. Though before she found a way to trick Darcy into a meeting, she’d have to get at something deeper than his need to chat up younger women.
“Yes, I love this place. Great atmosphere, drinks and food.”
“You live nearby?”
“Not far. You?”
“Not far.” He raised his glass toward hers. “I see you have excellent taste in beverages.”
“Thank you. Though I only drink gin when the mood strikes.”
He gazed at her as if she was the most fascinating person he’d encountered all week. “What mood makes Marie crave a martini?”
Oh, he was good. An innocent question, asked in a perfectly straightforward manner, but with a deep seductive voice and vivid brown eyes full of mischief. Even Darcy would have a hard time resisting, and she could resist almost anything. With the bizarre and compulsive exception of potato chips.
“Exhaustion.” She smiled demurely. He wasn’t going to get her flirting; with women his own age, he was doubtless just going through the motions. “Long tough day.”
“What’s your business? Or your pleasure?”
Marie kept a straight face. “I own a dot-com company.
You?”
“I’m an investor.”
“Stock market?” She hoped not. Adrenaline junkies made draining partners, and Darcy needed ballast in her life.
“Businesses.”
Perfect. A private-equity investor. That would explain the expensive suit some days and jeans the next, plus his presence in the bar at hours when most working stiffs were scrambling to finish late days at the office or still commuting. Marie could assume he was independently wealthy, great for Darcy whose restaurant was currently booming, but with the whims of customers, tastes and trends, that could change all too easily.
“Are you a Milwaukee native?” She sipped her drink, appearing unconcerned whether he answered or not. She needed to walk a line, finding out as much as possible without padding his ego by seeming interested in him herself.
“Born and bred.”
“You don’t sound like one.”
“Mom was Canadian, Dad is from Chicago. I inherited their lack of accent.”
“So you did.” Over his shoulder she saw a trio of dark-haired thirtysomething women dressed to kill coming down the stairs. If they sat at the bar, she wouldn’t have much more 92
time to dig into Quinn; she’d have to wait until she could catch him alone again, and who knew how long that would take.
“Where did you grow up, Marie?”
“Glendale. UW–Madison for college, then back here. A real Wisconsin girl.”
The women settled on the other side of Quinn. He glanced over and obviously did his charm thing, because all three broke into wide smiles.
Irritation prickled Marie. Had he even heard her?
She took a calming breath, telling herself that this man and his young women had nothing to do with her ex and his young woman, and nothing to do with her.
