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“Did she get along with your ex-fiancée?”
“That,” he says, “definitely qualifies as another question.”
“Damn it,” I say. “Can’t fool a lawyer.”
“Best not to even try,” he agrees. Studying eyes meet mine. “So tell me about your writing.”
“You’re persistent,” I say, lowering my eyes to my own drink. “I wrote a book a few years ago and had it published by a publishing house. But… well, it didn’t sell as much as they’d hoped. Since then I mostly just write for myself.”
“And you write crime stories? Tell me the plot of one of them.”
“That,” I say, “is another question. And it’s my turn now.”
He sighs. “You’re going to ask the last question again, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“No, Tess didn’t really get along with my ex-fiancée.”
“Oh?”
“They were civil,” he says, “but it was a fairly cold civility. They had very different interests. As I said… Tess was happy to say ‘I told you so’ the other day. Apparently, she was never a fan of my relationship.”
“Mmm.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I can see you coming up with ten more questions now.”
“I’m curious! You know so much about Caleb, the disastrous end of my relationship, and why I’m here alone. I, on the other hand, know almost nothing about you and yours.”
“Not true,” he says. “You know we used an excellent travel planner for the honeymoon.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, that’s very useful knowledge, thank you. Please send me her details for when I book my next honeymoon.”
“Sarcasm,” Phillip says, “doesn’t work if what you’re joking about is pretty darn likely.”
“Oh, it isn’t likely,” I say. “I’m done with the whole wedding business.”
He laughs and reaches for his drink. “Right.”
“No, it’s true. I am! At least for a couple of years.”
“Mm-hmm.” He takes a long sip of his drink. “‘At least a couple of years.’ Tell me you don’t already have men lining up to date you at home.”
I stare at him. “Um, Ireallydon’t have any men lining up for me at home.”
“Or you’re just not very good at spotting them,” he says.
There’s intensity and something else—a challenge?—in his gaze. “My next question. How did the single men around you react when you told them you called off your wedding?”
“I don’t know.” I dig my teeth into my lower lip. What a question. “It’s not like I regularly hang out with a dozen single men of my age, you know. I don’t have a harem of them on speed dial.”
“Still,” he says. “Humor me. Friends of your friends, maybe.”
“Nope.”
“Guys at work?”
“Oh. Well…”
