Lovers And Other Strangers

“Apparently, Froot Loops and Pepsi are not among his favorite breakfast combos.”

“Who can blame him?” Kelly pulled her face into a comical grimace. “If he really is a mob boss, he’s probably already put a contract out on your life just for suggesting it.”

“I thought he was supposed to be a vegetarian zombie.”

“That’s Paul McCartney.” Kelly picked up the chalk pencils and carried them over to the notions wall to hang them up.

“Paul is a zombie?” Shannon looked surprised. “He looks so normal.”

“No, he’s a vegetarian.”

“Does that mean he can’t be a zombie?”

“Zombies pretty much have to be carnivores, don’t you think?” Kelly wandered back to the cutting table and reached for the roll of ribbon and began snipping it into eighteen-inch lengths. “I mean, how frightening would it be if a bunch of squash-eating undead were roaming the streets?”

“I guess it would be pretty frightening for the squash.” Shannon tossed another fabric packet into the box.

“I suppose,” Kelly agreed absently. “What’s he like?”

“Who?”

“Reece Morgan.” Kelly’s tone was exasperated. “Who were we talking about? And if you mention Paul McCartney, I’m going to brain you with the nearest blunt object.”

“I wasn’t going to mention him,” Shannon lied meekly.

“Good.” Kelly set the ribbon aside, lifted a bolt of fabric from the stack leaning against the side of the cutting table, clicked open a rotary cutter and began slicing off half-yard chunks. “You’re the first eye witness I’ve talked to, so tell me what the infamous Reece Morgan is really like. Did he send shivers up your spine?” she asked, grinning.

“Not that I noticed.” At least not the kind of shivers Kelly was talking about. If there had been a small—practically infinitesimal—shiver of awareness, she was keeping it to herself. The last thing she needed was for Kelly to turn her matchmaking eye in Reece Morgan’s direction.

“Is he mean looking? Does he have a patch over one eye? Antennae growing out the top of his head? A nose ring? Wear three-inch lifts and a girdle? Tell me all.”

“He doesn’t need a girdle,” Shannon said, remembering the muscled flatness of his stomach. “Or lifts. He’s tall. No eye patch, nose ring or antennae that I noticed. And I didn’t think he was mean looking, though I imagine he could be. He has dark hair, dark eyes.”

“Good-looking?” Kelly asked, folding the end of the fabric and pinning it to the bolt.

“I think most women would say so,” Shannon offered, careful to sound neither too interested or suspiciously indifferent.

“Well, who cares what men think? Unless…” The bolt of fabric hit the table with a thud as a possibility occurred to her. “Do you think he’s gay?”

“No,” Shannon answered without hesitation.

“Are you sure?” Kelly shook her head as she began folding the fabric she’d just cut. “Because it seems like every good-looking, single man in the state of California is these days.”

Shannon could have told her that Reece Morgan was more likely to turn out to be the world’s first squash-eating zombie, but she settled for a half shrug and mild reassurance. “I’m pretty sure.”

Kelly folded in silence for a moment then sighed abruptly. “Well, it’s certainly going to disappoint a lot of people.”

“People are going to be disappointed that he’s not gay?” Shannon asked, startled.

“Not that.” Kelly grinned. “They’re going to be disappointed if he’s normal. I mean, what’s the point of having a bad boy come back to town if he’s not bad anymore?”

“I see what you mean. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Shannon shook her head sadly. “When you think of it, it was pretty inconsiderate of him. The least he could have done was get his nose pierced or maybe file his teeth.”

“Exactly.” Kelly looked wistful. “I was really hoping for black leather and chains.”

Shannon’s brows rose. “Does Frank know about this?”

“Not for me, silly. For Reece Morgan. He could at least have worn a black leather jacket and maybe an earring. For heaven’s sake, even stockbrokers are wearing earrings these days!” She shook her head at the unfairness of it.

“The man’s an inconsiderate lout.” Shannon looped a ribbon around the next stack of fabric.

“So, what did you do about breakfast?” Kelly asked.

“Well, I offered him toaster waffles and grape jelly but he said he was allergic to grape jelly and took a rain check.” Shannon dropped the fabric packet into the basket and waited for Kelly’s reaction. She wasn’t disappointed.

“Toaster waffles and jelly?” Kelly stared at her in horror. “You actually eat that?”

“Not voluntarily, but there wasn’t anything else in the house.”

“What did he do?”

“Actually, I think he turned a little pale.”

“Who can blame him?” Kelly muttered and then giggled. “I’d love to have seen his face.”

“It was…interesting,” Shannon admitted, grinning at the memory of Reece’s poorly concealed revulsion. “But he managed to remain polite.”

“I’m almost sorry to hear that,” Kelly said.

“I suppose you’d rather he’d threatened me with bodily harm?”

“Well, you have to admit that the man is starting to sound depressingly normal. In fact, he sounds downright dull.”

The bell over the door jangled, saving Shannon the necessity of a response. Dull? she thought as she turned to greet the customer who’d entered. That was just about the last word she could imagine applying to Reece Morgan.

There was nothing like a small town to make you appreciate the joys of living in a city, Reece thought as he rolled his shopping cart into place behind a middle-aged woman wearing a hot-pink jumpsuit and purple sneakers. In the fifteen years he’d lived in D.C., no one had ever gawked at him over a pile of bananas or waylaid him in the dairy aisle to offer condolences on his loss and, in the next breath, ask what he planned to do about the condition of his lawn. He’d been discreetly eyed by a young woman pushing a cart full of baby food and disposable diapers, blatantly stared at by an old man carrying a six-pack of Coors and a bag of pretzels and nearly mowed over by a toddler trying to escape parental supervision.

Obviously, shopping at Jim & Earl’s Super Food Mart had been a mistake. It was just a few blocks from his grandfather’s house, which meant it was convenient, not only for him but for his neighbors, who apparently found his presence a source of endless fascination. He didn’t even have to turn his head to know that the skinny blonde in the next checkout line was studying the contents of his cart as if trying to commit a complete inventory to memory. If only he’d thought of it sooner, he could have thrown in half a dozen boxes of neon-colored, fruit-flavored condoms and a couple cases of tequila so the local grapevine would have something really interesting to talk about. As it was, he doubted they were going to be able to do much with the news that he’d been seen buying boneless chicken breasts and bok choy.

He listened with leashed impatience as the cashier quizzed the woman in the pink jumpsuit about the health of every member of her family, clicking her tongue in sympathy or exclaiming with delight, as necessary. If only her hands moved as fast as her mouth, she could win the grocery-checking Olympics, Reece thought acidly. She paused, a box of bagels in her hand, her mouth forming an O of amazement as the customer detailed the results of her niece’s breast reduction surgery and he bit back a groan. At the rate she was going, he stood in real danger of growing old and dying before he made it up to the register. He turned his head to see if there was a shorter line—or a longer one with a deaf and dumb cashier—and forgot all about his irritation.

His coffee-making, Froot Loop-eating neighbor was walking toward him, though he might not have recognized her if it hadn’t been for the unmistakable reddish-gold gleam of her hair, which was caught up in a soft twist at the back of her head. The T-shirt and shorts had been replaced by a silky-gold blouse and a calf-length skirt in shades of rust and moss green. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that those incredible legs were covered, but he had to admit that there was something tantalizing about knowing just what that flowing skirt was hiding. She looked older, more sophisticated and just as delicious, he admitted, letting his gaze skim over the soft curves and angles of her.

He hadn’t set eyes on her since their not-quite-breakfast encounter a little more than a week ago, but he’d thought about her more than he liked to admit. More than was smart for a man who wanted no entanglements, because, even on a short acquaintance, he was fairly sure that Shannon Devereux was not the sort of woman to fall into a casual affair with a currently unemployed ex-government agent who just happened to be living next door to her for a few weeks.

Shannon looked up and saw him. Her eyes widened in surprise and then she smiled and Reece found himself thinking that maybe Serenity Falls wasn’t such a bad place after all. She walked over to him, a mesh basket hanging over her arm.

“You know, recent studies indicate that people who eat large quantities of fresh vegetables are twice as likely to develop cauliflower ears.”