A Season of Angels Page 0,40

loudly as if she were hard of hearing.

"Keep your voice down," she pleaded.

"The thing is," Chet continued, "I'm not sure I like you. You annoy the hell out of me and at the same time I can't help thinking you could be a real woman if you'd let yourself go a little bit."

Monica jerked her shoulders back and scowled at him. "You haven't exactly endeared yourself to me either, Mr. Costello. You're everything I don't want in a man."

Instead of insulting him, her words appeared to do just the opposite. He grinned as if she'd stroked his ego with compliments. "Ain't it a bitch?"

Her head snapped back at the use of vulgarity. "Kindly watch your language."

His grin was cocky in the extreme. "You want me so much you're practically frothing at the mouth."

Monica's hands were shaking so badly she could barely open her purse zipper. She removed her wallet and carefully extracted a ten-dollar bill, which she set next to her plate.

"I don't believe there's anything more for us to say," she said crisply.

Chet held up his hand. "Don't be so hasty. We've got several matters to discuss."

Monica slipped out of the booth and dramatically tossed her purse strap over her shoulder. "I won't say it's been a pleasure," she said, taking her gloves from her coat pockets. "Good-bye, Mr. Costello."

She heard him swear and winced at his words as she walked away. His hurried footsteps sounded behind her before she left the store and reached the sidewalk.

"All right, I apologize," Chet murmured impatiently, "I shouldn't have said that."

The man was full of surprises. She certainly hadn't counted on him making amends any more than she'd expected him to chase after her. Monica wasn't sure how to react, or what she should do. She was more comfortable believing him to be a hopeless Neanderthal. His sincerity went against the assumptions she'd made about him.

"You want to go for a walk?" Chet asked before she had time to sort through her feelings. "It'll be a test of our control to see how long we can go without finding something to argue about."

"Where do you suggest we walk?" Monica asked, as if that were her only concern. She looked up at him and found his deep, blue eyes intently studying her.

"The waterfront's as good a place as any. There're always lots of things going on down there."

"All right." Her words were little more than wisps of sound. She hurriedly looked away because she found his gaze mesmerizing and buried her hands in her pockets. Chet followed suit, his own hands waist deep in the pockets of his beige coat.

"You seem to know a lot about me," she said as a means of opening the conversation, "it only seems fair for you to tell me something about yourself." She wasn't sure, but this sounded like a good place for them to start. Her only concern was in knowing exactly what they were starting. She didn't know if she could be friends with this man, and anything else was impossible.

"I'm thirty-three and have never been married," Chet said, cutting into her thoughts.

"Why not?"

"You're twenty-five and I didn't ask you that," he barked, then seemed to regret his tart remark. "I never found a woman who'd be willing to put up with me."

Monica smiled to herself. "I guess you could say the same thing about me. I don't seem to communicate very well with men. I thought I did, but I was wrong."

"That sounds like you're speaking from experience. I take it someone's hurt you."

She shook her head. "We're talking about you, remember?"

He frowned as if he found the subject boring and was much more interested in her. "What do you want to know about me?"

She shrugged, not knowing what to say. "Where'd you go to school, that sort of thing, and how you got into the detective business."

"All right," he said, releasing a beleaguered sigh. He seemed eager to get this part over so he could learn what he wanted to know about her. "I graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in criminology and took a job with the local police force. After a few years I decided I'd rather strike out on my own."

Monica speculated that there was a great deal missing in this story, but she didn't feel she should pressure him for details, not when she was unwilling to supply the missing pieces of her own story.

"Did you enjoy police work?"

"Yes and no. When I was shot -