Spring fancy

a man for trying.' She rested her hand on the edge of the table, and without warning he picked it up, studied the modest diamond at very close range and surprised her by carrying it to his mouth, tilting his head and pretending to bite the rock. Drawing back, he continued holding her hand while grinning engagingly. 'Damned if it isn't real,' he said softly.

She burst out laughing but left her hand where it was. Inadvertently his tongue had touched her fourth finger and left a tiny spot of skin damp at the knuckle. It seemed to burn now as he studied the diamond and fingered it with thumb and index finger. He glanced up and bestowed that teasing little-boy grin. 'Some guys have all the luck.'

Reluctantly she withdrew the hand and began eating again. But she could feel his eyes on her time and again in between the moments of attention he gave to his plate.

'So, when's your big day?' he asked.

'Only three months away. The third Saturday in June.'

'Ah, a June wedding, no less.'

'Yes, we've had the date picked out for almost a year.'

'You and-?'

'Paul Hildebrandt.'

'Paul Hildebrandt,' he repeated thoughtfully, then filled his mouth with potato salad. When he'd swallowed, he studied her askance. 'So, what's he like?'

'Oh, he's…' She drew circles on her plate with a celery stick. 'He's ambitious and extremely intelligent, and very easy on the eye.' She sensed that Joseph Duggan had stopped chewing, so quirked a quick peek at him from the corner of her eye.

'Naturally,' he grunted sardonically, 'he would be good-looking.'

'But then, maybe I'm biased. You'll meet him tomorrow, and you can see for yourself.'

'He'll be at the wedding?'

'Yes, though he only knows Sandy and Mick through me. He wasn't part of my old college crowd. I met him after I graduated.'

'From the University of Minnesota?'

'Uh-huh. I went there, too, at the same time as Sandy and Jeanne and Larry and some of the others.'

'That makes you…' He squinted an eye while doing mental calculations. 'Twenty-four years old.'

'Twenty-five. And how old are you?'

'Twenty-seven.'

'And I take it you're not married, nor considering it?'

'Absolutely not.'

'And there's no… girl friend coming with you tomorrow?'

'There's a girl friend-' he mimicked her pause perfectly '-but I'm not sure if she'll make it back in time. She's gone to South Dakota for a funeral.'

'Nobody close, I hope.'

'An aunt.'

'Mmm…'

They fell silent for a moment. Their plates were empty. Winnie carefully wiped her mouth and more carefully avoided eye contact with the man beside her. But after some moments curiosity got the better of her, and she turned to find he'd been sitting with an elbow propped on the table, jaw to knuckle, studying her for some time. Discomfited by his close scrutiny, she groped for a conversational diversion.

'What's her name?'

'I have no idea.'

A puzzled frown puckered Winnie's eyebrows. 'You have no idea what your girl friend's name is?'

He laughed and seemed to force himself out of a deep reverie long enough to stop staring. 'Oh, I thought you meant her aunt. My friend's name is Lee Ann Peterson, but I wouldn't really call her a girl friend. We've been seeing each other, that's all.'

'And what's she like?'

He squared his shoulders and pressed them against the cane-backed chair. 'Like all the rest.' Did he pronounce that rather wearily, she mused. 'A little bit smart, but a lot more dumb. A little on the ball, but often vague. Not quite as mature as she should be for her age and kind of scatterbrained.' He glanced at Winnie sharply, as if owing her an explanation. 'These are only impressions, of course. I don't know her well enough.'

'And what does she look like?'

He flashed his devilish grin. 'She's got a great body.'

Winnie felt herself blushing. He hadn't passed his eyes down her torso, but she felt as if he had, for comparison's sake.

'You're a body man, then?' she ventured, trying to cut him down with a note of cool disdain.

A wicked glint sparkled in his eye. 'Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. You see I have this-'

'Spare me, Mr. Duggan.' She lifted both palms and held her eyes closed for a full five disgusted seconds. 'I'm not interested in the graphic details.'

'You didn't let me finish… Miss Gardner. I was about to say I have this little shop in Osseo where I refurbish old cars. Two of my brothers are in it with me, and sometimes when we buy a wreck, there's plenty of bodywork to be done.'

She covered her eyes and groaned, then peeked from behind her fingers. 'I think I've been adequately put in my place.'

'No, it was my fault. I deliberately made the comment about bodies. I'm sorry.'

'So, you own a body shop.'

He tipped his head aslant and puzzled silently. 'Mmm… sort of, but not specifically. We do bodywork to earn money, but our labor of love is restoring classics.'

'You mean like '57 Chevys?'

'No, mostly older, classicker than that. Right now I'm restoring a '54 Cadillac pickup.'

'A Cadillac pickup? They never made pickups,' she stated suspiciously.

'Oh, yes, they did. They used them as hearses for funerals. 'Flower cars,' they were called, and had rollers on the bed to roll the casket on.'

'And where does one find such jewels?'

'In farmers' fields, at antique auctions, places like that. I bought this one from an old duffer up in Brooten, Minnesota, and it was in pretty decent condition. She's turning out to be a beauty-four hundred cubic inches and a V-8 engine, and-' Suddenly he cut himself off, then shrugged. 'Well, you're not interested in that. I get carried away when it comes to cars.'

She found it pleasant to be with a man who got carried away with something more understandable than computers. Duggan's eyes had danced with enthusiasm as he'd spoken of the collector's item he prized. But now he turned the conversation over to her.

'Tell me. What does the lucky Mr. Hildebrandt do?'

She was beginning to understand: flirting and flattery were second nature to this man. They scintillated from his eyes and rolled from his tongue with an effortless mindless ease. More than likely he was scarcely conscious of employing them so often. Ignoring his last ego tickler, she answered only the sensible portion of his remark.

'He's in computer work. They call him an 'optimizer.' He solves all the long-running problems nobody else has been able to solve. He's sort of a wizard, I guess you'd say.'

'And how about you?'

But now she couldn't resist the temptation to tease. The subject was simply too opportune. 'Well, I'm in bodywork, too.' The grin had already begun climbing his attractive cheek when she hurried on. 'But I work with human bodies. I'm a physical therapist at North Memorial Medical Center.'

'An odd combination-a computer man and a physical therapist.'

'No more odd than a body man and a-what is she again?'

'A hostess at a Perkins Pancake House.'

'Ah,' she breathed knowingly, laying a finger along her rounded cheek. 'A hostess.'