A demand. By the moon's light, what on earth was she going to do now? "I — " She hesitated, but knew it was better to tell a half truth than a straight out lie. "I was planning to go out later tonight, but I can come over if dinner is early enough."
He nodded and raised his eyebrow. Curious, but not overly so. "Anywhere in particular?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "They're reshowing Charade at the Playbox. Thought I might catch that." She'd actually caught it two nights ago, but he didn't know that.
Her dad snorted. "How many times will that make it?"
She grinned. "Only fourteen."
He shook his head. "You're never going to catch a mate if you keep spending your time down at that old movie theater lusting after ancient actors."
"Well, until I meet a man with Cary Grant's looks, charm and style, that's exactly what I intend to keep doing."
"We're never going to get grandkiddies, that's for sure," he muttered. He slapped her leg, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Go set the tables before I get inclined to lecture on the virtues of finding a good man."
Grin widening, she slipped off the bench, planted another kiss on his cheek, and headed off to work.
The morning rush came and went. Arianne, a fellow waitress and long-time friend, swept in at eleven, all color and energy and smiles.
"Such a wonderful day," she all but trilled, shucking off her coat and grabbing an apron.
"Got lucky last night, did we?" Neva commented dryly.
Ari grinned. "No, but I'm intending to tonight. Hooked myself a fine specimen last night."
"And you didn't dance? Good grief, girl, are you sick?"
"Nope. He was with another mate at the time, and it's not polite to steal, you know."
"Since when has that stopped you?"
Amusement twinkled in Ari's dark green eyes. "Since his mate was double my size."
Neva snorted softly. "Good enough reason, I suppose."
"Generally. You filled the salt shakers yet?"
Neva shook her head, and the two of them got to work. Lunch was busier than normal, thanks to the rising influx of fly-fishermen wanting to take advantage of the early season warmth. At one, when there was a brief slowdown in customer traffic, Neva grabbed a soda and leaned wearily against the counter. Lack of sleep was beginning to tell. Thank God it was Monday, and the diner was closed tonight.
Then she remembered what she had to do, and a shiver ran down her spine.
Ari joined her near the fridge, leaning her forehead against the cool glass. "Man, I'm hot."
She raised an eyebrow. "Can't wait for tonight, huh?"
Mischief danced in Ari's eyes. "Well, now that you mentioned it." She hesitated as the doorbell chimed. "Maybe we should put the 'Closed' sign up. Otherwise, I don't think we're going to get out of here today."
Neva smiled as she glanced toward the door — and felt her smile freeze on her face. It wasn't just any old customer who'd entered. It was Duncan Sinclair.
Ari's soft gasp of admiration seemed a hundred miles away. Neva could only stare at him, her mind whirling with a thousand different thoughts and fears.
What on earth was he doing here? Was it just chance that brought him here or something more?
He adjusted a small brown-wrapped box tucked beneath his arm and took off his dark glasses, his gaze skating across the crowded room. No, she thought, knees weak, heart straining with fear. It wasn't chance, but something more sinister.
"Now there's a honey I wouldn't mind wrapping my legs around," Ari whispered. "Moons, what a delicious bod."
He certainly had that, Neva thought with a chill. She'd thought him dangerously handsome last night, but now, when he was wearing dark jeans that hugged his legs with such thigh-defining tightness, and a black sweater that fitted his lean body and seemed to show every ripple of muscle, the impression of a dark angel was doubled. Tripled.