Heart of Gold - B.J. Daniels Page 0,42
he could think about was the woman who’d made Charlie sick. Did she know about Lindy’s murder? Was she motivated by more than jealousy? He couldn’t for the life of him see a connection between Charlie’s past and Amanda.
But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
WT COULDN’T HELP being nervous. It was one thing to flirt with Meg years ago in law school—back then it had been safe. He’d known she was happily married, so it was all in good fun. Not that he hadn’t meant it. He’d been attracted to her—just like most of the other male law students.
Meg had always had that extra special something that made her stand out. She wasn’t classically beautiful. She was interesting, full of life and a challenge intellectually. She’d finished in the top five of her class, along with him.
But now there was no husband. No safety net. It would be just the two of them. What if they found out they had no sparks?
Meg had laughed when he suggested that after asking her out.
“What do we have to lose, WT, at our age?” she’d asked. “One dance. That’s all I’m asking.”
When he picked her up at her house for their date, she opened the door in a drop-dead gorgeous fire-engine red dress. She twirled, spinning the skirt out and exposing some damn good-looking legs.
“Wow.” That’s all he could say. He was seldom tongue-tied. Until now.
She laughed. “You look pretty good yourself, Judge.”
“Retired,” he said. “Thanks.”
“We never really retire,” she said and winked at him. “We’re too young.”
He had to admit, he felt young as long as he didn’t try to remember the last time he’d been out on a real date. He’d felt that all of that was behind him for some time now and he’d been okay with it.
She grabbed her wrap and they headed out to his pickup.
“Sorry for the Montana transportation.” He hadn’t brought his sports car because he felt it would be broadcasting the wrong message. He wasn’t sure exactly what that message was. He feared that he’d look like a man going through a late midlife crisis, which he suspected had been the case when he bought the damned thing.
“It won’t be my first truck ride,” Meg said as he opened the passenger side door.
He took her elbow to help her in, but she didn’t really need it. She hopped in as if she was a teenager and he closed the door. The cold winter night air seemed to invigorate him. His step felt lighter as he walked around and slid behind the wheel.
“I didn’t know what restaurant to pick so I asked around,” WT told her. “I understand we can’t go wrong with this one.”
“You really think what food we have will matter?” she asked, clearly amused.
Was he trying too hard? He just wanted this night to be everything she expected. Unfortunately, he really had no idea what her expectations were—if any.
They talked about the weather, Christmas holidays and an update on her grown children and so far, lack of grandchildren, until they reached the restaurant.
Once seated, they caught up on people they’d gone to law school with and how many of them had stayed in the profession. He ordered a good bottle of wine.
“To old friends and lovers,” she said, clinking her glass against his, her summer-sky-blue eyes dancing with mischief.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re paying me back for the way I behaved in law school?” he asked.
“What? You think I’m flirting with you, WT?” She laughed. “I am.” She opened her menu and disappeared behind it, leaving him surprisingly a little flushed with the attention.
When the waiter returned, WT ordered salmon and salad for himself and closed his menu. Meg turned to the waiter and shook her head. “I know what I want, but we’re going to need a moment.”
“Why did you just send our waiter away?” he asked, confused.
“Because you aren’t having salmon and salad. Tonight we’re having beef, rare, with a big fat loaded baked potato.”
“I haven’t eaten red meat in five years, and if I eat all that, I won’t be able to move, let alone dance,” WT told her.
She grinned. “We’ll see,” she said, then signaled the waiter over and ordered them both rib eyes, rare, loaded baked potatoes and side salads. “You still like blue cheese?” she asked him but didn’t wait for a reply. “Throw some blue cheese on them both,” she said, picking up their menus and handing them to the waiter.
“If you’re trying to