The thing was, she was a Scully kind of girl, a nonbeliever in all that
At least, not usually.
The trouble was, after having spent most of the night replaying what had happened in the locker room with him, she wondered if it was possible that something you didn't believe in could in fact be real: He'd been terrified in the midst of that trance, and unless he'd pulled off an Oscar-worthy performance today, he honestly had no clue what he'd said to her and he was honestly worried about what it all meant.
Taking her cell phone out of her purse, she dialed the number at the bottom of his card that didn't have
Perfect. Just the kind of a Post-it note he'd want his assistant sticking to his desk. She dropped the phone from her ear and put her thumb over the
She scrambled to get the cell back into place. “Hello? Ah…I'm looking for Mr. di—”
“Marie-Terese?”
Oh, that deep voice was dangerous. Caught up in the sound of it, she almost said,
“No, I'm glad you called. Is there anything wrong?”
She frowned and hit her directional signal. “Well, no. I just wanted you to know—”
“Where are you? Still at the club?”
“I just left.”
“You have breakfast yet?”
“No.” Oh, God.
“You know the Riverside Diner?”
“Yes.”
“I'll see you there in five minutes.”
She glanced at the clock on the dash. The babysitter was supposed to be at the house until noon, so there was plenty of time, but she had to wonder what kind of door she was opening. A big part of her wanted to run from Vin because he was too handsome and too much her type and she was an idiot if she didn't learn from the past.
But then she reminded herself she could bolt. At the drop of a hat. Hell, she was on the verge of pulling out of Caldwell completely anyway.
Remembering the words he'd spoken to her gave her the impetus to meet with him. Attraction concerns aside, she wanted to know what he'd seen and why he'd said those things.
“Okay, I'll see you there.” She ended the call, flicked her directional signal to the other side, and headed for one of Caldwell's landmarks.
The Riverside Diner was just two miles away and so close to the Hudson's shoreline, the only way it could get any nearer was if the booths were anchored by buoys and floating in the current. The dining car had been rolled onto its blocks in the 1950s, before the EPA laws, and still had original everything, from the Naugahyde twirling stools at the Formica counter, to the jukebox extensions at each table, to the soda fountain from which the waitresses still pulled Cokes for customers.
She'd been there once or twice before with Robbie. He liked the pie.
When she walked in, she saw Vin diPietro right away. He was sitting in the last booth over on the left, and facing the door. As their eyes met, he got to his feet.
Even with the shiner, the bruise on his cheek, and the swelling on his lower lip, he was stunningly sexy.
Boy…as she walked over, she wished she had a thing for accountants, podiatrists, or chess players. Maybe even florists.
“Hi,” she said as she sat down.
On the table's countertop, there were a pair of menus, two sets of stainless-steel silverware on paper napkins, and a pair of thick ceramic mugs.
It was all so down to earth, homey, cute. And in his black cashmere sweater and his toffee suede jacket, Vin looked like he should have been at a fancy cafe, instead.
“Hi.” He lowered himself slowly into his seat, his eyes locked on her. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
He lifted his hand and a waitress with a red apron and a red-and-white uniform came over. “Two coffees, thanks.” As the woman left to go get the pot, Vin tapped his red-and-white menu. “I hope you're hungry?”
Marie-Terese opened hers and looked at all the choices, thinking that every single one of them was appropriate for a Fourth of July picnic. Okay, maybe not all the breakfast items, but this was the kind of place where the word
It was glorious, actually.
“See anything you like?” Vin asked.
She did not take the opportunity to look across the table at him. “I'm not a big eater, generally. I think for now I'll just stick with coffee.”
The waitress came back and poured. “You know what you want?”
“You sure you won't do breakfast?” he asked Marie-Terese. When she nodded, he took both menus and handed them to the other woman. “I'd like the pancakes. No butter.”
“Hash browns?”
“No, thanks. The pancakes are quite enough.”
As the waitress headed for the kitchen, Marie-Terese smiled a little. “What?” he asked as he offered her the sugar.
“No, thanks, I take it black. And I'm smiling because my son…he likes pancakes, too. I make them for him.”
“How old is he?” Vin's spoon made a clinking sound as he stirred.
Although the question was casual, the way he waited for her answer was anything but. “Seven.” She glanced at his bare ring finger. “Do you have kids?”
“No.” He took a test sip and sighed like it was perfect. “Never been married, no children.”
There was a pause as if he were expecting her to quid pro quo the info.
She picked her mug up. “The reason I called you was because my boss…he wanted to let you know he's taking care of everything…” She hesitated. “You know, about what the security cameras might have caught last night or…things like that.”
Although she was worried he might not appreciate someone obstructing justice on his behalf, Vin just nodded once, like he was the kind of man who'd handled things in the same way Trez did. “Tell him I appreciate it.”
“I will.”
In the silence that followed, Vin ran his thumb up and down his mug's thick handle. “Listen, I didn't do anything to those two guys last night. Well, other than what you saw me do to them. I didn't kill them.”
“That's what Trez said.” She took a sip and had to agree with him: The coffee was superb. “And I didn't mention anything about you or your friend when I spoke with the police. I didn't tell them about the fight at all.”
Vin frowned. “What did you say?”
“Just that the two guys had been harassing me. That Trez spoke with them, and when that didn't work, they were escorted from the club. Turns out that was what the two other witnesses who'd come forward maintained as well so it all matched.”
“Why did you lie for me?” he said softly.
To avoid his eyes, she looked out the window next to them. The river, which seemed close enough to touch,
