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“Hey,
there!”
Candy whirled around. Hey, there who? It was a man’s shout. A man’s shout which sounded like Justin’s. A man’s 110
shout which sounded like Justin’s coming from the direction of Justin’s house.
Well. Go figure. It was Justin. Pulling on a coat, jogging down his driveway, grinning at her. Waving eagerly.
Maybe
he was the one with multiple personality dis order.
“Candy, glad I caught you.”
She waited warily as he crossed the street, making sure her stomach was sucked flat, aware of the way her thin suit clung to every inch of her body. Even more aware when his eyes seemed to be discreetly taking in every one of those inches.
“Sorry I was unable to come up with full sentences earlier.
I was still half-asleep.”
“I thought I woke you. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Who sleeps at four in the afternoon?
Only me, when I’ve been up most of the night finishing a chap ter.”
“Oh, I see.” She tried to keep a mental scowl going, but something perky and hopeful had sat up to take notice. Would she never learn to stay off the Justin roller coaster?
“Thanks for the brownies. They were delicious. I ate three already.” He was watching her in that measuring way that had turned her inside out so often.
“Glad you enjoyed them.”
“I did. Both the brownies and the gesture.” He took a slow, easy step toward her, making her tense. When he was close like this, she had to fight the urge to touch him, and she wanted him to touch her, everywhere. Where did this power come from? She didn’t trust it. “Troy and I are having a sick-of-winter party on Friday at my house. People are bringing food that reminds them of summer. I was hoping you could come.”
“Cute idea.” Her head was racing. Did she want to go?
Shouldn’t she say no? What was she doing Friday? Something…
“Troy’s idea. He could probably work for you.” He smiled wryly. “Me, I was thinking, ‘Yeah. Party. Beer.’”
Candy
laughed.
This was the guy she’d flipped for that first night. Where had he been? “That sounds fun, too.”
He grinned and gave her shoulder a gentle nudge that made her want to fling her arms and legs around him and embarrass them both. What had she been saying about staying off the Justin roller coaster? “I hope you can make it, Candy.”
“I have to give a fiftieth-anniversary cocktail party that night.” She bit her lip, unable to close the door of opportunity completely. “But I’ll try to show up afterward. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You’re welcome.” He looked her up and down, this time with less heat than amused horror. “You’re really going to run in this weather?”
“Justin…” She shook her head in disgust. “You need to live in the Yukon or something, to find out what real winter is like.”
He shuddered. “No, thanks. This is all I can handle.”
“This is nothing, this is halfway to spring. One year, for an entire week it never got above ten below.”
Justin’s eyes bugged out in mock panic. “I think I have somewhere to be that week. Like in my oven.”
Candy laughed again, half giddy, half cautious, which added up to confused. “We northerners will thicken your blood eventually. You’ll see.”
“Have a good run. Hope to see you Friday night.” He lifted an arm, walked a few steps backward, then turned toward his house.
Candy had to force herself not to watch him walk the rest of the way home; she turned deliberately and started on her pace. This push-pull thing was driving her crazy. Did he want to be with her or not? Why now and not earlier? Not when she was shoveling, not when she brought over baked goods?
In her driveway that first time they met, then on the first date 112
and now, he’d been adorably attentive. The rest of the time it was “Candy who?”
Her leg muscles began accepting the rhythm, her lungs began adjusting to the cold. She relaxed into her stride, going over the times he’d seemed into her. The times he hadn’t. What could account for the diff—
Oh, no. She stumbled over nothing and had to work hard to regain her composure. Whenever he flirted or acted sweet, she was wearing something revealing. He’d been on the block since November, but hadn’t come over to introduce himself until he saw her wearing the teeny-weeny purple-and-black outfit on Sexy Glamour Girl’s first outing. All was wonderful on their date when she was dressed to kill; he’d even wanted to come in. When she’d been shoveling, shaped roughly like the Pillsbury Doughboy, he’d waved and run. Bringing brownies earlier today? Jeans and a bulky sweater. Yeah, thanks, gotta go. But when she put on this second-skin jogging outfit? Here comes Justin, roaring out of his house, standing close, inviting her over.
