David Carlson glanced at his mirrors, signaled then pulled
over into the turn lane. Disappointment rode his
shoulders. He needed a big story. He was so close to
gaining a position among the top echelon of reporters at
The Herald, and now the rumor about graft in the city's
transportation department he'd been investigating had
fizzled into nothing but a disgruntled employee trying to
get his boss in trouble.
David frowned and made the right turn onto Monroe Street.
He was feeling a little disgruntled himself. One thing was
sure, he wouldn't find his big story this afternoon. At
least not until he cleared away this minor one. He scanned
the buildings on the right, looking for numbers —
1422...1424... Ah! There it was.
David flipped on his blinker, pulled into the parking lot
of the Westwood Literacy Center then glanced at his watch.
Five minutes early. Perfect. Okay, Professor Stiles, let's
get this over with!
Erin Kelly hurried down the hallway, crossed the entrance
and stuck her head around the open office door. "You
wanted to see me, Professor?"
"Yes, yes. Come in, Erin, I'll just be a minute." The
elderly man rummaged through a towering stack of papers on
his desk, scowled then ran his hand through his thinning
gray hair. "I had it here yesterday...."
He thumbed his way through another pile. "I don't know why
I can never find —"
Erin hooted. He scowled up at her. "Are you laughing at
me, young lady?"
"Not at all." She gave him a cheeky grin. "I'm laughing at
your expectations."
"Humph!"
The snort was one of fond affection. Erin's grin widened.
She gestured toward the litter of books, magazines and
miscellaneous folders and papers that covered the large
desk. "Do you really expect to find a specific item in
that mess?"
"I do."
She took a brave step forward. "Then perhaps if you tell
me what you're searching for, I could help."
"I don't need any help! That's what's wrong." The
professor directed a baleful look toward his secretary in
the entrance room and raised his voice. "That woman was in
here straightening up again. She can't leave anything
alone."
"I only threw away things that were growing." The words
floated in over Erin's shoulder. She laughed and turned
toward the door. "Good one,Alice!"
The secretary grinned at her, then faced the other way as
the outer door opened.
Erin shifted her gaze. A tall, broad-shouldered, gorgeous
man entered. He looked vaguely familiar. She searched
through the files of memories in her head as she watched
him walk over to Alice.
"Good afternoon. I'm David Carlson. I have an appointment
with Professor Robert Stiles."
The sound of his voice did it. Recognition dawned. David
Carlson appeared occasionally on Channel Four News. What
was he — ?
"Hah! I've got it! One o'clock!"
Erin turned back to find the professor waving a scrap of
paper through the air like a flag of triumph.
"That's what I thought, just couldn't remember for sure."
The professor ducked his head and squinted at her over the
top of his glasses. "Some newshound called the other day.
He wants to interview me about —"
Someone cleared their throat behind her. The professor
stopped speaking and shifted his gaze to a point above and
beyond her head. His gray eyebrows drew together. "Who are
you?"
"The newshound."
There was a trace of amusement in the deep voice. Erin
stole a sidelong glance as David Carlson stepped up beside
her and extended his hand over the desk.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important. Your
secretary told me to come in. I'm David Carlson of The
Herald, Professor Stiles. It's good to make your
acquaintance."
"Humph. Too early to know that." Her boss waved an age-
spotted hand in her direction. "This is my program
coordinator, Erin Kelly."
David Carlson swung his handsome, impeccably groomed head
her way. She looked up into his intelligent, alert, gray-
blue eyes and the oddest sensation hit her. Everything
inside her went still. It was as if time stopped.
"She'll be answering your questions."
The professor's voice started time moving forward again.
Erin gave herself a mental shake and drew in a breath of
air. "Hello, Mr. Carlson." She smiled and extended her
hand. It was swallowed by his larger one. Warmth
telegraphed itself up her arm. She glanced at their joined
hands, shocked by the feeling.
"A pleasure, Ms. Kelly."
A manila folder smacked down on the only clean spot on the
desk. Erin jumped, withdrew her hand from the encompassing
warmth and focused her fragmented attention as Professor
Stiles fastened a keen-eyed look on David Carlson.
"Erin knows as much about the grant as I do, young man,
and she's better at tolerating questions about our
operation." He slapped his hand down on the folder. "This
is a copy of the grant for refer-ence — I don't want any
misquotes." He looked at her.
"You can tell him about the center, Erin."
"But — ?"
A wave of her boss's hand cut her off. "I've no time to
discuss the matter, I'm already late for another
appointment. I'll talk with you later." He grabbed up his
suit jacket and rushed from the room.
Erin could have cheerfully shaken him. The least he could
have done was warn her! She snatched up the folder,
clasped it to her chest and turned around. "Well, Mr.
Carlson, it looks as if you're stuck with me for your
interview. I'll do my best to answer your questions, but —
as you've probably guessed — I'm surprised by this
assignment and therefore ill-prepared."
"That makes two of us that are surprised, Ms. Kelly."
David Carlson's gaze lowered to her hands holding the file.
Erin's breath caught. He was checking for a ring.A Romeo?
Her caution reflexes snapped into high gear.
His gaze lifted back up to meet hers and he smiled. "And,
speaking for myself, very pleasantly surprised. I'll take
dining with a lovely young lady rather than an irascible
old man every time."
Smooth, Mr. Carlson, very smooth — but then practice makes
perfect. Disappointment filtered through the remnant of
that odd stillness. "Dining?"
David Carlson's smile spread into a slow grin. "It's a
luncheon appointment."
David felt like he'd taken a hard right to the stomach.
The punch had landed when he'd first looked down into Erin
Kelly's big, dark-green eyes, and it left him taut-muscled
and breathless.
David frowned, motioned to the busy hostess and, at her
nod, guided Erin to his favorite table at Carlo's Villa.
He'd been looking forward to a plate of chicken marsala —
now he wasn't sure he could eat. His appetite was gone.
All he really wanted was to run his fingers through the
smooth, thick mass of hair framing Erin Kelly's lovely
face. Her hair was the deep red-brown color of the chili
powder in his kitchen cupboard.
"Thank you." Erin smiled up at him and slid onto the chair
he held for her.
David's fingers tightened on the top rail. Her smile had
the same effect as her beautiful eyes. He nodded, cleared
his throat and went to take his own seat.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Carlson." The server placed a glass
of ice water trimmed with twin slices of lemon and lime in
front of each of them, then laid dark-blue menus edged
with gold on the burgundy-and-gray striped
tablecloth. "Would you care for something to drink while
you decide on your meals? Perhaps a light wine?"
"Erin?"
"No, thank you. The water is fine for me." David gave a
mental whew! He was close to punch drunk from looking at
her. He didn't need alcohol.
"I'll have a lemonade."
"Very good, sir. I'll be back with it shortly." David
glanced at his menu, then pushed it aside and feasted on
the sight of Erin studying hers. She lifted her head and
caught him watching her. Her eyes clouded. So she was wary
of being interviewed.
"Have you decided?"
Her hair shimmered in the light streaming through the
window as she nodded. She looked down and closed her menu.
When she looked up, the shadow in her eyes was gone. "I'll
have antipasto...and bread sticks." She gave a rueful
smile. "I can't resist their bread sticks."
David grinned. "I know what you mean." He leaned back
against his chair and set himself to put her at ease. "So,
Erin Kelly, what part of Ireland are your ancestors from?"
She gave a little shrug. "I don't know. That information
was never passed on." She smiled and reached for her
glass. "I have a suspicion the earliest Kelly to reach
America's shores didn't want that knowledge made public."
"Aha! Skeletons!" David rubbed his hands together. Erin
laughed. "Careful. Your reporter radar is showing." She
took a swallow of water and put her glass down. "What
about you? Where do your people come from?"
"I have no idea. I'm just glad they had the good sense to
come here."
"Amen to that."
She sounded sincere and utterly natural. Was she
religious? David's smile faded. It was the first flat note
struck since he'd met her.
"Your lemonade, Mr. Carlson." The server placed it in
front of him, then gathered the menus under his arm. "And
your order?"