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“Am I intruding?”
“No. I was just wrapping up a business call with my agent.”
“How’d it go?”
“That depends on your outlook. Glass half full or half empty.”
“Try me.”
“The publisher wants the second book sooner rather than later, but mainly because the first is selling well.”
“Definitely half full, and I’m partially to thank.” He held up a brightly colored tote bag bearing the logo of a local bookstore. “Will you sign my book?”
She was astonished. “You bought my book?”
“Two copies.”
“For who? I mean for whom?” A niece or nephew? A son or daughter she didn’t know he had?
“One is for me,” he said. “The bookstore discounts the cover price if you donate a second copy to their children’s reading program.”
“On behalf of the reading program and myself, thank you for your generosity.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused. “Does it entitle me to come inside while you’re signing my copy?”
She was both happy and flustered over his unexpected appearance coming so soon after their chance encounter at the precinct. But it had been presumptuous of him to just show up. “You should have called first.”
“I was afraid you’d say no.”
That was said without a grin or joking lilt. He no longer looked quite so self-possessed and intimidating, and, in spite of her common sense, she was flattered that he’d sought her out.
She stood aside. “The living room is on your left.”
He stepped into the entry and squeezed past her, walked down the short hall, and turned into the living room. She followed and stood beside him, viewing the room as a stranger might—as a cosmopolitan stranger like him might—and wondered what he thought of it.
He surveyed it leisurely and seemed to take special notice of the overstocked bookshelves, framed photos of her and Charlie, the potted plant that had outgrown its corner adjacent to the window, the chenille throw she’d left bundled up in her chair.
She raised her arms to her sides to encompass the room. “It’s homey.”
He smiled. “It looks like you.”
“God help it,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I wasn’t expecting company. I’m in my work clothes.”
After returning home from the precinct, she’d changed clothes, intending to spend the remainder of the afternoon and evening at her desk. Her work uniform consisted of stretchy, comfortable leggings and a loose-fitting top.
“You look great.”
She was about to protest the unwarranted compliment, when she decided not to make a big deal of her casual appearance. After all, he’d come unannounced. Nor did she want him to think that she was fishing for compliments.
“First time I’ve seen you without your hair pulled back,” he said.
“I was getting a headache, so I shook out the ponytail.”
Made self-conscious now, she gathered her hair at her nape and pulled it over her shoulder, knowing that it would still look like an unruly mess.
She wished she had on lipstick. She wished her sneakers were new chic ones instead of old standbys. She wished her sweatshirt had the spangle that Glenda had recommended. She wished she looked more sophisticated and less domesticated.
She wished he looked less mouthwatering.
