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“Which are the most famous?”
“Monet, Renoir, and Cezanne. But I know so little about French impressionists, that someone else might give a completely different answer.”
“Are we going to spend the rest of our time on the internet?”
Piper closed her eyes for a second, then said, “Let’s just eat dinner and take it from there.”
*
One hour later,she sat back and folded her arms. “You got me.”
“I did?”
“Absolutely, pigs in blankets are the way forward.”
He beamed. “Told you so.”
A little tremor ran down her spine. When Dawson smiled, his whole face just lit up, it was like those green eyes were illuminated from behind, and it reached out to every part of her. She couldn’t pretend that it didn’t have an impact on her.
Her last boyfriend had been fine. A quiet kind of academic who moved to a private research company in Boston. The one before that had been in medical sales, and he’d gained a promotion and moved to Washington. They’d both been nice relationships, steady, and she’d felt safe and comfortable, but she’d never had the skin tingles or stomach flipping that others talked of. Not like she was starting to have around Dawson.
And that was entirely the problem. But she had no idea what to do with those sensations. Everything here was a conflict of interest. The fact they’d been pushed to work together. The history. The pressure of trying to solve clues, with a potential outcome that both wanted, but could easily slip through their fingers.
This all seemed so unlikely. So, to throw in the fact she was definitely attracted to Dawson, and there was an absolute undercurrent between them, just complicated things further.
She took a final sip of her wine as Dawson pulled his card from inside his jacket pocket and turned it side on so they both could look at it. He reached out to touch it at the same time she did, and the zing went straight up her arm, and she pulled back.
“Sorry.” The nervous laugh that came from her throat was coupled with heat in her cheeks. “I don’t know why we’re pretending we need to look at this,” she said. “It must be imprinted in your brain, just as much as it is on mine.”
In the space of our sixteenth man,
With historical, botanical, and biological wonders,
Find the best kept seasonal secret of our city planner
Where a French impressionist might feel at home.
“This is the only clue we’ve had that’s used the word botanical. It’s like it was made for you. Or at least with you in mind.”
“Oh, come on,” Piper joked, “Pile on the pressure.”
Dawson rested his chin on his hand. “Let’s think differently.”
“Okay,” agreed Piper. “What are the seasonal secrets in Chicago?”
Dawson rolled his eyes. “Are you joking? This is Christmas town. There’s so much goes on in Chicago at Christmas, and I’m not sure if any of it is a secret.”
Piper gave a nod in agreement. “Let’s try something else. Historical, biological, and botanical wonders.”
He raised one finger with a cheeky grin. “I could tell you that you got those in the wrong order, but that could be picky.”
She gave him a hard stare, then sat up straighter.
“What?” Dawson was instantly alert.
“So, historical, biological, and botanical, in a place like Chicago, that could be a museum, or maybe a park.” She pulled out her phone. “There are many. Let’s go through them one by one.”
Dawson’s hand closed over hers. “We don’t need to. I’ve just realized what the sixteenth man means.”
