Trouble In Tourmaline

The waitress came to seat her and Amy was almost at his table when he saw her. He stood up, unsmiling, and gestured toward an empty chair.

“I guess you’re with David,” the waitress said, plopping the menu she held onto his table. “I’m Vera and I’ll be right back.”

Telling herself it’d be awkward to back out, Amy let David seat her.

“You didn’t tell me you ate breakfast here,” she said.

“I expected you to sleep late,” he told her.

“Why?”

He shrugged.

“Do I impress you as someone who doesn’t work for a living?” she asked.

He shrugged again.

Realizing she sounded defensive, which would never do, Amy took a deep breath and decided to start over. “Good morning, David.”

His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. “’Morning, Amy.”

“I see the sun is out.”

“Usually is in May hereabouts.”

“You don’t make small talk easy.”

“I don’t?” His gaze met hers.

The deep blue of his eyes fascinated her. What color were they? Darker than cobalt or azure, but lighter than navy. They dominated his face, making it difficult for her to look away. When she forced herself to, she found herself examining the curve of his upper lip. He had a rather full mouth, as she did. She found his attractive. What would it be like to feel those lips touching hers?

Wrong place to go. “Once I wake up I’m hungry,” she blurted, throwing the words at him as a barrier.

“Likewise, I’m sure. Coffee, then food, fast. You?” When she nodded, he lifted the coffee server and poured some into her cup.

“Thanks.” She took a swallow. As she remembered from last night, it was excellent.

“Black’s the only way to drink it.” He actually sounded approving.

To discourage any more approval, remembering his comment about beer the day before, she said, “I don’t like beer in any way, shape or form.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s beer got to do with coffee?”

“Nothing much, you ask me,” Vera, the waitress, told him, having arrived unobserved. “You guys ready to order?”

When she’d taken their order and left, David said, “Vera said it all. Beer and coffee, apples and oranges.”

He really did have a habit of picking every comment apart, didn’t he? Two could play that game. “So you decided you weren’t likely to run into me at breakfast since I was obviously a late sleeper.”

“Can’t be right all the time. Figured you didn’t have anything to get up for this morning. Didn’t tie in hunger.”

Something flashed into his eyes as he said the last word, but it was gone before she could be sure what she’d seen. A different kind of hunger? Damn chemistry, anyway—she could feel the tension between them like a palpable chain. He certainly gave off irresistible pheromones. Or was it only females who did that? Looking at him across the table seemed to be turning her brain to mush.

David tried to focus on his coffee, but he couldn’t keep his gaze away from her. Today she wore a skirt and a polo shirt, green like those deep-sea eyes of hers. A bad mistake to come here for breakfast. He should have stayed away. Far away.

No woman had tempted him for more than a second or two since his divorce, but he couldn’t make himself ignore Amy. While any man would give her a second look, this was more than reacting to a pretty face atop a well-built body. He seemed to be drawn to her in a way that scared the hell out of him.

Vera’s arrival with their food was a welcome break. He wondered if it was for Amy, too, since she concentrated on her food and didn’t talk. If she didn’t want to sit with him, why hadn’t she declined his offer to share a table? For that matter, why had he made it? Courtesy? He knew better.

Yeah, Severin, and you know better than to get into a tangle you’ll regret.

He tried to come up with something Cal might say, something that might turn her completely off him, and found all he could think of was that Cal was actually an all-right guy. What he’d been doing was parodying Cal’s speech patterns and making a mockery of the guy’s lifestyle. He scowled.

“Is something wrong with your food?” Amy asked.

He glanced up at her. “Why?”

“You’ve been glaring down at your plate forever.”

“The food’s fine.”

“Oh, then it must be the company you’re annoyed with.”

“I asked for the company, didn’t I?”

She raised her eyebrows. “That doesn’t mean you can’t have regrets.”

“If I’m annoyed at anyone, it’s myself.” He picked up his cup, downed the last drop of coffee and reached for the carafe. “Care for a refill?”

“Just warm it, thanks.” She waited until he poured more coffee into her cup, then said, “Anger’s destructive.”

“So I’ve been told.” By his aunt, more than once in the past year. He poured himself another cupful and took a swallow. Been told that and other cautions he hadn’t wanted to hear. Ethically, Gert wasn’t allowed to psychoanalyze him because he was a relative. Which didn’t prevent her from dropping loaded hints. Or making a yardman out of him, like Amy believed he was. The last thought made him smile.

“That’s better,” she said.

“You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, too,” he deadpanned.

“Always supposing you’re looking to catch flies.” Her words challenged him.

“I’m not looking to catch anything.” He spoke flatly, his gaze crossing hers.

He watched her face turn expressionless, but her tone was light when she said, “And here I felt sure you were a fisherman.”

“Every yardman doesn’t fish.”

He could see he’d managed to offend her. “I was not trying to categorize you,” she snapped.

He glanced at the egg congealing on his plate and knew he couldn’t finish his breakfast. Just as well, because this seemed a good time to split. He flipped a couple of bucks on the table for a tip, rose, nodded to her and walked to the cashier to pay his bill. Not hers, though it might annoy her more if he did. But he figured he’d done enough damage. He was safe. Amy wasn’t likely to give him the time of day again, even if she became a regular patient of his aunt’s. Just the way he wanted it.