psychiatrist. He was just a guy in a bar; a charming guy who made her laugh and forget her own worries. Why drag things down? Besides, it would be like asking for free professional advice. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked.
She lifted her coffee cup. "About how many sit-ups I'm going to have to do to keep that fried chicken from being the straw that popped the button on my jeans."
"Liar."
The sip of coffee she'd just taken made a U-turn. After she dabbed her mouth with a napkin, trying to recover ladylike composure after nearly spewing coffee out of her nose, she turned to him with a raised brow. "I beg your pardon?"
His teasing hazel eyes held hers. "Liar." He said it slowly and distinctly.
"Well, I heard what you said. I was giving you a chance to save yourself."
"Am I on dangerous ground?"
"Let's just say that the last boy who called me a liar got a black eye, and I got a trip to the principal's office."
He pulled a frightened face and held up his palms. "Let me restate. Something's on your mind and it's not fried chicken."
"Ooooh,
Doctor
Coble, I didn't know you were psychic, too."
He laughed and shook his head. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry. I guess it's a hazard of the profession." He paused and his gaze grew softer, concerned. "It's just that you looked so sad." His hand came close to her face, as if he was going to touch her cheek. He hesitated, then withdrew and wrapped his hand around his beer.
She sighed and buried the tingle of anticipation she'd felt when she thought he was going to touch her.
"It's been a long day is all."
"Yeah, it has." He sounded as tired as she felt. And she hated the fact that she'd dragged down both of their moods.
Jason paid his bill. Then he picked her jacket up off the back of her bar stool and held it for her. "I'll walk you to your car."
She almost told him there was no need, but she wasn't ready to part with his company just yet. So she slipped into her coat with a nod of thanks.
He held the door for her and they stepped out into the dim light of the parking area. The moon was overhead, its light muted in the gauze of breaking clouds.
She said, "Looks like the rain's finished with us tonight."
He looked up. "Looks like it. Which way is your car?"
"Over there." It was nearly blocked from sight on the far side of a large bush where the parking lot merged with the woods.
Jason took her elbow and started that way. "I want to thank you," he said as they walked.
"Thank me?"
"For staying to have dinner with me. Next time I'll buy more than just your beer."
"Next time?" She stopped, tilted her head, and looked at him.
"Yeah, I'd like there to be a next time."
"Me, too." They stood there like a couple of teenagers for a long moment.
A car horn honked, making them both jump. Someone was trying to back out of a space; Abby and Jason were in the way.
When Jason's gaze broke from hers, she was relieved from the unexpected, and unsettling, intensity of the moment.
With a hand raised in apology to the driver, Jason moved them along toward her van. It was getting darker with each step away from the building.
"Don't you know a lady shouldn't park in a dark and hidden spot like this? What if I wasn't here to walk you out?"
"I take care of my own self."
"Seems I heard Maggie say the same thing to her uncle today."
"Ah, but I can back it up--remember the kid with a black eye."
A hand went to his chest in feigned shock. "What kind of Southern belle are you?"
"The cast iron kind that's used to ringing solo."
His laugh echoed off the trees as he opened the door to her van. The sound crawled deep inside her and nested near her heart, humming inside all the way home. She felt its presence as she went through her nightly routine. And when she crawled into bed a short while later, she placed her hand on her chest and swore that residual laughter was radiating a heat of its own.
C HAPTER 3
A wareness crept close, wielding a club which it used to