Larkspur Dreams - By Anita Higman Page 0,17

chuckled.

Oh, how he could drink up her laugher. Drink? Should he have offered her something to drink? He suddenly felt as clumsy as Frankenstein trying to learn social skills.

Lark scooted to the edge of the couch and rose. “Thank you for taking the time to let us dive below the straw for pearls.”

“You’re welcome.” Everett got up from the couch. Guess it’s too late to offer beverages.

Lark set the brass abacus back on the end table. “I admire people who are good with numbers. You were probably born counting your toes.”

Everett chuckled, and he noticed how good it felt. “I saw one of your covers when you handed the books to Zeta. It was extraordinary. Were those pictures done in oils, too?”

“No. I do all my illustrations in watercolor. My oils are something I do more for me. By the way, I like your living room,” Lark said.

“Thanks.” She changed the subject, and he wondered why.

“With all the stone and wood, it makes me think of a vacation home.”

“That’s why I picked it.” Had he been caught staring? Lark looked so beautiful today. Luminous dark hair and eyes that could wake a guy up in the morning better than any shot of espresso. Better than anything, in fact. He’d better not drift any further down that road. Dangerous territory. What had she said? Or had he been talking?

“So are you taking me to the company party to please Zeta?” Lark looked vulnerable as well as cute.

“No,” Everett said. “I’m taking you to please myself.” Was that egotistical?

“Sounds like an honest answer.” Lark smiled as she walked to the door. “But I think Zeta railroaded you, so if you want to back out, here’s your last chance.”

“I don’t want to back out,” Everett said. “Relaxation tends to be at the bottom of my to-do list, but I really do want some fresh air. . .with you. Maybe you can teach me how to breathe again.” Did those words actually come out of his mouth? Maybe there really was a romantic heart beating inside him.

Lark looked over at the corner of the living room where his mother’s piano sat with the lid down. Then she smiled at him. “I guess I should go.”

Everett opened the door for her, but he didn’t want Lark to leave. He wanted to keep listening to whatever she had to say about anything. Her voice had a gentle ebb and flow to it like an ocean’s tide. But duty called, especially since Zeta had brought the new files to add to his project.

“I’ll pick you up at six thirty. Is that okay?” Everett asked.

“Yes.” Lark stepped over the threshold, but when she turned back around, they were suddenly standing close.

“I look forward to this evening,” Everett whispered.

Lark blushed when she looked at him.

The rosy color looked so good on her cheeks, he wanted to kiss the very spot he’d made warm by his words. In fact, what fragrance did she wear? Some expensive perfume, no doubt. “Okay.” If he were being drugged by the scent, he knew he wouldn’t put up a fight.

“Okay,” Lark said.

Everett walked her home, which took all of two minutes, and then he settled into his office assimilating Zeta’s file into his project like a good little accountant. Suddenly, he wondered if he could get by with a suit for the party or if he was expected to wear a tux. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d worn his tux. The goofy thing probably didn’t even fit anymore. Did his sedan have enough gas? And what about flowers? Was he supposed to buy a corsage for Lark, or did that practice go out with the high school prom?

Everett looked over at Lark’s office window. He couldn’t see her because the sun’s brightness had darkened the view inside. He tugged on the ribbon on the mothballs instead, hoping Lark was having just as much trouble concentrating as he was. In fact, what could she be up to right this minute?

Nine

Lark went back to her sketchbook and then switched on her French language CD. “Bon soir!” she repeated after the teacher. She chuckled. Who am I kidding? She couldn’t smother the anticipation she felt about the coming evening. Work suddenly felt like going through the motions, but she still tried to concentrate on her charcoal drawing. Half an hour later on the last bit of shading, the doorbell rang.

Everett? Hope he didn’t change his mind. Lark flung the door open to find Jeremy