his heart. “I’m crushed.”
“Like we’re going to crush you in October?”
“Let me take you to Fenway and we’ll lay a bet on that.”
Jordan dropped her teasing. “I can’t go to dinner or a game; I’m working. Three rolls of film; I’ll be up till midnight.” She liked bantering with him, liked that there didn’t seem to be signs of a girlfriend in the apartment upstairs . . . but she wasn’t throwing work aside for a date. The photo-essay had to get finished; there was so much to do and summer was slipping by so fast.
He didn’t argue. “What about tomorrow?”
“Saturday movie night with Anna and the cricket here, then Sunday lunch the next day. Weekly tradition.” Sunday was the day they all missed Dan McBride the most.
“Monday?”
“Working then too, sorry. I’m going to a ballet studio to get pictures of the dancers.” She outlined her Boston-at-work idea. “You helped give me the idea, you know—something you said about my father looking like the quintessential antiques dealer.”
“So that’s what that was,” Tony said. “That time you waltzed out of the shop with Clark Kent after giving me the biggest smile I’ve ever gotten in my life from a girl who was still vertical. I kept wondering what I’d done to prompt it.”
“Mr. Rodomovsky!” Jordan said, pretending to be shocked. “Keep your mind out of the gutter if you please.” She tried to keep a stern expression, but Tony quirked an eyebrow, and she burst out laughing.
He grinned. “Let me accompany you to the studio Monday. I’ll carry your bag, hand you film. Don’t you want a minion? I thought all photographers had assistants.”
“Famous ones.”
“I’ve seen your work. You’re on your way.”
He was flattering her, Jordan knew that. But warmth still spread in her stomach at the praise.
A cab finally pulled up. Tony opened the door, handing Ruth in with a flourish, and Jordan gave in to temptation. “Meet me at the studio,” she said, giving him the address.
“I’ll be there.” He didn’t try to squeeze her hand or touch her arm in farewell, just stood there hands in his pockets, smiling. Something a notch up from his automatic you’re-so-pretty smile, something faintly, frankly wicked. Jordan was somewhat amused to feel a flutter in her stomach in response. He doesn’t mean anything by it, she thought. You could take a picture of charm spilling out of him like coins from a slot machine and title it A Charmer at Work!
Well, so what? She had half a summer left here, and she was free to enjoy it with any charmer she pleased. “I’ll see you Monday,” Jordan said, and she made sure she didn’t look over her shoulder as the cab rolled away.
“YOU’RE IN THE CLOUDS tonight,” Anneliese said that evening after supper. “That’s the second time I’ve asked for a dish towel.”
“Sorry.” Jordan passed it over, then reached into the sink of soapy water for another plate.
Anneliese studied her. “You look like you’re thinking about a man.”
Jordan bit back a smile.
“I knew it!” Anneliese laughed, sunlight from the kitchen window gleaming on her dark hair and her navy-blue dress. “Did he ask you on a date?”
“Yes.” Jordan hesitated, plate in hand. “You don’t think it’s too fast, do you? For me to be thinking about someone new, when things just ended between Garrett and me . . .”
“And who ended them?” Anneliese asked. “Which one of you actually said the words?”
“Well, he did.” Jordan hadn’t told her the details before, merely that it was over. “I asked if we really loved each other or not, and Garrett asked for his ring back.”
“So, he ended it. If your heart isn’t smashed in pieces—and I’m glad it isn’t—then why shouldn’t you move on to someone new if you feel like it?”
“People call names if a girl gets around too quickly after breaking an engagement.” Jordan knew exactly what those names were. She couldn’t help thinking them herself this afternoon after leaving Tony’s company, even as she told herself she was free now to see whom she liked. As much as Jordan wanted to be a woman of the world, it was hard to shake off the strictures of the Good Girl. “I don’t want people thinking I’m a—”
“They won’t think that of Garrett Byrne if he decides to get over you by dating every girl in Boston,” Anneliese pointed out.
“Things are different for men, and you know it.” Jordan added more soap to the dishwater. “Surely it was just the same in Austria