In His Eyes Page 3

  “Who is this for?” The bright overhead light glinted off the long, golden hair he longed to curl around his hand.

  “My sister.”

  “That's so sweet.” Perspiration beaded her upper lip. Maybe it was warm in here. Maybe it wasn’t just his body running riot. “What’s her name?”

  “Delinda. She’s my older sister.”

  “That’s a pretty name you don’t often hear. What size again?” Diana smiled. He fought the urge to take out his hankie and slowly blot her sweetly curved lips. Instead, he shifted his attention to the blouse. “Large might work,” he breathed. “As big as the sky.”

  Will had no idea what he was saying.

  Checking the labels, Diana gave a squeal of delight. “Oh goody. We won't have to order it. Anything else?”

  He felt like he might combust. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  Diana stood waiting, mouth open and lips moist. “What would that be?”

  “Would you have dinner with me?” Great. So cool...like a blow torch.

  A blush tinged her cheeks. Taking the blouse, she slipped behind the counter. “Oh, well. I’m kind of busy right now. Summer season and all.” Eyes down, she knotted her fingers in the fabric.

  What? Had he imagined the chemistry at the dance? “But summer’s ending.”

  “Yes, yes it is.” With a sigh, she twisted the blouse from its hanger. The graceful movement of her hands had him imagining all kinds of things. Inappropriate. Mind-blowing. Shaking his head helped dislodge the mental picture. But his body didn’t get the message.

  He rooted himself in the worn carpet. “Just something casual. A bite to eat. Wouldn’t take much time.” The words battered at her defenses. No way was he giving up this easy.

  Golden lashes fluttering, she gazed up. The distrust in her eyes shook him. “What is it, Diana?”

  With a pretty shake of her shoulders, she looked away. “Oh, nothing. Guess I’m just being silly. Sure, a casual dinner would be nice. When?”

  Tonight. But instinct made him say, “Saturday?” She wanted distance. He’d give it to her even though the weekend felt like a year away.

  Spreading the blouse out flat, Diana folded it with precise movements. Her hands took his imagination on a roller coaster ride.

  “Do you have a favorite place to eat?”

  Diana tipped her head to one side. “Well, I like Brewster's.”

  “Sounds good. Six o'clock? Will your shop be closed by then?”

  “I have someone to help me on weekends. Rachel. Hippy Chick stays open until seven Fridays and Saturdays. You know. Tourists.”

  “We can make it later.” He wasn't letting this slip away.

  “No, six is fine.” She motioned for him to run his credit card through the machine. “Rachel will be glad to have the hours.”

  The door opened and a bell jangled. “Oh look, Diana’s got some new merchandise.” The newcomers waved and Diana waved back.

  “Check out the sale rack,” she called out. “I just took some new markdowns. Be careful of the pins on the floor.”

  He recognized Sharon Dalby, whose father was rehabbing at the care center. Sharon and her friend bustled toward him like chickens pecking for corn.

  “Saturday it is then,” he said.

  Knowing glances were exchanged by the two newcomers. Definitely time to get out of here. “Pardon me, ladies.” Skirting them, he marched toward the door. “See you, Diana.”

  “Oh, Will.”

  With one hand on the plate glass door, he turned. “Yes?”

  A lime green bag dangled from her hand. “Don't you want this?” Diana’s lips twitched.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” With a tight grin, he went back for the bag but not before he'd heard the giggles. The entire town would know about this before he reached the care center. A burst of perspiration bathed his body.

  “And don't you want my number?”

  Sharon and her friend leaned forward to catch every word.

  “But I have your card.” He jerked his head in the direction of the display.

  Confusion clouded her face. “That's the store. Sometimes it's very busy.”

  Feeling like a complete clod, Will set the bag on the floor and retrieved his pocket planner. Under the watchful eyes of three women, he jotted down her number. Yep, might as well take out an ad in The Beacher, the local weekly.

  The ridiculous bag swinging from his hand, he left. Outside, bright light glanced off the stones in the parking lot as the sun marched toward noon. He felt blinded and incinerated at the same time.

  But his mood lifted as he backed out of the parking place and took a left onto Whittaker. One block later, he was back on Red Arrow and headed to his condo for a shower. As he lathered up, he remembered the warm honey of her hair, the blue blaze of her eyes. The bright pink toenails and the feminine way she folded the blouse. He began to hum “I Only Have Eyes for You” or what he could remember of that song.

  Thirty minutes later, he parked in the administrator spot outside the care center. The bag sat accusingly on the front seat. What the hell was he going to do with it? “Oh, all right.” Slinging the bag from one finger, he approached the front door, where one of his residents sat sentinel every day. “Morning, Harold.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Applegate. Any food in that bag?” The notorious forager always wore a hat with earflaps, even in August.

  “Sorry. Not today.”

  Inside, cool air greeted him along with the smell of cookies baking. Will wanted Gull Harbor Care Center to feel like home. His grandmother had always had fresh-baked cookies in her cookie jar.

  Kelsey looked up from the reception desk, eyes zipping to the bag. “Good morning, Mr. Applegate. Looks like you’ve been shopping at Hippy Chick. I just love that shop.”

  Shoving the bag her way, he felt relieved. “You do? Good, maybe you'll like this. Isn't it your birthday or something?” He had no plans to see his sister anytime soon.

  Flushing, Kelsey cradled the bag in both hands. “Thank you, Mr. Applegate.” Was she fluttering her eyes? He turned toward his office. The only eyes in his mind were blue and often guarded by long lashes.

  Why had Diana thrown up a shield and how could he penetrate it?

  Penetration. Will tripped on the tile floor and nearly went down.

  Chapter 3

  Eye makeup was a necessary evil. Diana sponged off the expensive Stormy Sky eye shadow and started over. Heat swelled in the small bathroom, which didn’t help. She tried to keep her electric bill down so she had the air conditioning set at 76. The small pedestal sink had no room, and her products kept rolling off the closed toilet seat.

  Brush in hand, she stopped. Would Will even care about her makeup? He had an appealing homespun look. Maybe he’d be one of those guys who didn’t go for a lot of eye shadow. Not Bryce. He’d told her she had Cleopatra eyes.

  But she was finished and done with him.

  Stomach clenched, she tapped her brush against the sink. Was she ready to start over, especially with Will Applegate? Mr. Perfect...which she wasn’t. She could be setting herself up for disappointment, especially if she told all. Her head told her to run for the hills. But her heart? Maybe it was time to take some chances.

  Snatching her eye palette, she started over. Cream powder first over the eyelid, a swath of white at the top and then Warm Taupe feathering from the outer crease. Blinking for the effect, she scrutinized herself in the mirror. Right. Moderation. This looked more natural. More Will. Then she carefully lined her eyes with the tiniest brush she owned before applying a base coat of mascara.

  “Remember, Diana,” her mother had told her. “Beautiful girls have an easier life. And you’re prettier than the rest of the girls. Make the most of it, kiddo.” Diana had been what, six at the time? Grandma Kit didn’t believe in that “rubbish.” That’s exactly what she called it.

  The “easier life” part? Diana snorted.

  When she was seven, her mother bought a one-way tick
et to a Chicago rock concert and just kept going. They were living with her grandparents at the time. Her grandfather spent a lot of money to find Star, their only child. Didn’t matter. By then, she was eighteen and not coming back. Diana blinked fast so her eyeliner didn’t run. Stupid to cry after all these years. Her absentee mother lived in Ibiza with her third husband, Paulo. Or so she said on the postcards that arrived on Diana’s birthday, or close to it anyway. Sometimes she sent a refrigerator magnet instead. Ibiza was just one in a string of quaint villages and skyscraper cities.

  A quick sniff and Diana blotted the corners of her eyes and finished the job. Next came a dash of cream rouge on the upper apple of each cheek. Her lips looked fuller when she outlined them just outside her natural line before filling them in. Last was the Summer Peach gloss dabbed in the center of her lower lip. A quick wide grin allowed her to check her teeth. Almost perfect. Packing up her supplies, she hurried to get dressed.

  She was adjusting the soft blue top that hugged her shoulders when the doorbell rang. Excitement rippled through her. That one dance with Will had awakened all kinds of crazy feelings. Those sunset blue eyes with smoky green rims? Slipping into her white miniskirt, she wished she weren’t such a romantic. The bell rang again, and she padded to the door in her bare feet. Where had she left her sandals?

  Will’s silhouette showed through the lace curtains. She smiled to see him run a hand through his hair. Maybe he was nervous too. When she opened the door, he held a bouquet of red roses and the perfume curled around her. “Oh, Will. How beautiful.”

  His blue sport coat and bright red tie had her wondering if they’d gotten their signals crossed. Gull Harbor was summer casual all year long. Still, his cluelessness tugged at her heart. So did the flowers. “Come on in.”

  When Will stepped inside, the ceiling seemed to drop. She closed the door against the persistent heat. “You’re sure looking beautiful. Peach, not pink?” His eyes fell to her feet.

  She wiggled her toes. “Peach.”

  “Am I overdressed? I figured the restaurant will be air conditioned.” He ran a hand down the tie, eyes lifting from her white miniskirt to the pale blue top. “You look, well, beautiful. Did I say that already?”

  “Trust me, a girl never minds hearing it twice. So do you. I mean, not beautiful but, well, you know.” Her tongue felt knotted.

  “Yes, guess I do.” Laughter danced in his eyes, and she wondered if Will Applegate ever had a bad day. It wasn’t difficult to picture his smile charming the older women at the care center.

  When she took the flowers from him, the tissue felt damp. “How sweet. You didn't have to do this.” When was the last time any man had brought her flowers?

  Two years. The memory cut deep. But she wasn’t going to let a past mistake spoil tonight. “I'll just put these in some water.” Diana led the way past the island into the cramped kitchen space.

  “Nice place.” While she poured water into a bowl, he looked around.

  “Small but I like the open concept. Isn’t that what they call it? This counter kind of divides the kitchen from the living room.” To stop her nervous babbling, she buried her nose in the sweet blooms. Diana drank in the lush scent before slipping them into the cool water. That should hold them until later. She wanted to take her time arranging the stems. Whirling around, she found Will's eyes pouring over her bare shoulders. “They’re beautiful, Will. Thank you.”

  “Yes, yes they are.” Then he jerked upright and flushed scarlet, like he’d been thinking about more than the roses. A laugh tickled her throat, but she swallowed it. Will might be the type who embarrassed easily.

  “Did you have any trouble finding the house?”

  “Nope. My car's got GPS.”

  She glanced at the clock. “And right on time.”

  “I try to be.” Another nervous tug at the tie.

  “Let me just grab my purse.” She dashed into the bedroom and did a quick check under the bed for her shoes. Thank goodness they were there, and she slipped into the silver sandals. Checking her hair in the mirror, she tried to smooth her curls, hopelessly frizzy in the humidity.

  When she returned, Will was studying one of the Monet prints on her living room wall. Glancing around, she saw her tiny living space with new eyes. Magazines she never read were stacked on the coffee table, the TV remote buried under them. Retrieving an empty coffee mug, she hustled back to the sink. This open concept thing was fine except when you had guests.

  “Don’t straighten up on account of me, Diana.”

  “I bet you're neat as a pin.”

  “Not really.” He looked deflated and endearing. “Neat as a pin. Sounds so exciting.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” She nudged her scuffed tennis shoes under a side table.

  “Sometimes it's nice to just let things go. I think you’ll be surprised when...if you see my place.”

  When. If. Really? Happy talk. She stiffened with disappointment. Oh, she’d heard plenty of those casual comments men threw out about the future. As if there were one for the two of them. Still, Will didn’t seem to be that type and she reined in her unfair assumption. “Watch what men do, not what they say,” her last therapist had told her.

  Maybe Will really was different. He didn’t seem to be one of those guys with slick manners and well rehearsed lines. The stubborn cowlick in the dirty blond hair and his way of laughing at himself made him seem different.

  The light dancing in his eyes sure looked like mischief. When he flexed his shoulders and went back to looking at the prints on her walls, his clean male scent rolled over her. The thoughts that unfurled in her head could get her into trouble. Time to lock up, and she scurried to slide the side door bolt but it always stuck.

  “Here. Let me.” Will’s hand closed over hers, so warm. The bolt slid into place. He glanced down as if he didn’t know how she’d ended up in his arms.

  Ducking, she skipped under his arm. “Thanks, Will.”

  Hand still on the lock, he looked dazed. “You’re so beau...welcome. You’re welcome, Diana.” Stepping away from the door, he gave his head a little shake.

  They were quite a pair. Hands trembling, she felt like a sophomore on her first date, heading out for pizza with Tim Johnson.

  “So you like the Impressionists?” They were back to Monet.

  “Sounds like you know them?” Not every man recognized artists from the end of the 19th century. “The pastel colors are so peaceful.”

  He ran a hand over his chin. “Maybe I should get one for my office.”

  “What do you have in your office now?” Looping her fringed shawl over one arm, Diana snatched her keys from the counter and shoved them in her bag.

  Will hitched up a shoulder. “Mostly deer hunting and fishing stuff. You know, outdoorsy.”

  “You’re into that?” Stepping out onto the porch, she pictured stuffed heads hanging on his office wall and shivered.

  “Kind of.” Will followed her out the door. “Aren't you going to leave the light on? Might be dark when we come home...back, I mean.”

  “Good idea. The sun’s setting earlier now.” She flipped a switch inside the porch door.

  “My mother always says a welcoming home keeps the front light on.”

  How simple and wholesome. “She was probably right.”

  Crickets sang in the tiger lilies blooming in the front. They'd had a few days of rain and an earthy smell hung rich in the air. Everything had gone through a growth spurt, including the grass. “Sometimes I wish I’d rented a house without this big yard.”

  Will closed the door and then twisted the knob to make sure it was locked. “Isn't your landlord responsible for upkeep?”

  “That wasn't our arrangement. I took on lawn duty in exchange for part of my rent.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Yes, when I have time to do it. Did you know how hard it is to cut grass that’s three inches high?”

  His chuckle floated on the soft night air. A se
nsible white sedan sat at the curb. “Want to walk over? We're only about three blocks from the restaurant.”

  “Great idea.” Sliding out of his jacket, he tossed it in the back seat of his car and then clicked the lock. They took off together.

  “Watch yourself,” she told him. “The city keeps saying they'll fix this. The roots push up and crack the sidewalk. They even talk about taking down the trees.” Throwing back her head, she glanced up into the leafy greenness up above and Will followed her gaze.

  “I'd vote for the tree every time,” he said.

  “You are an outdoor guy.”

  “I’ve done a lot of fishing and hunting, in season.”

  The evening air caressed her body. “What a beautiful night. Want to eat outside? Brewster’s patio is great in the summer.”

  “I’m up for anything,” he said, very matter of fact. When they reached the corner, he took her arm. The asphalt street gave off summer heat, invasive on her bare legs. With his hand cupping her elbow, dangerous thoughts chased through her head. She tripped on the curb but his grip tightened.

  “You okay, Diana?” he asked softly.

  “Fine. Just not watching my step.”

  “Happy to help with that.” And easy as that, he took her hand.

  First date? But she laced her fingers with his. For a few seconds they just walked until the silence made her nervous. “I hate to see summer slip away. September comes so fast.” And then sales would drop.

  “I suppose summer is your busiest time.”

  “Absolutely. The winters can be long for the shops. Some of them close up during January and February.”

  “Head to Florida?”

  “Right. But I can't afford that. I’m experimenting. Ordering stock for the cross-country skiers.”

  But she didn't want to be a buzzkill with her work worries. Her gaze slid up. Will Applegate was definitely easy on the eyes. Every time they came to an upended sidewalk block, his grip tightened. The protective gesture sent heat spiraling through her. “How about you? Any seasonal shift in what you do?”

  “Not really. Of course, Christmas is a little different. Over the holidays, adult children often realize their folks can’t handle being at home alone anymore.”