Midnight Madness

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Jack frowned and shrugged apologetically. “It’s hard for me to dodge security. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll make sure they’re either out in the car or at a table across the restaurant, okay?”

An evil impulse sparkled in her eyes. “Would they like dates? One of them seemed impressed with Shirlie’s…attributes. And we have a very cute single manicurist here, too. Or if one of them swings the other way, I’m sure our stylist Nicky would be happy to—”

His lips twitched. “Maybe next time.” He looked regretfully at his watch. “I’m going to have to go—I have a speech to make to a young Republicans group.”

Marly wrinkled her nose and seemed about to make a caustic comment, but he put his hand out, palm up. “Hey, I know what you’re going to say. But it’s better for kids to be politically active early and learn that they can make a difference. Don’t you think Republicanism is better than utter apathy?”

She looked undecided at that, and Jack laughed. “I’m going to teach you the upside of conservative politics before we’re through, Marly.”

“Yeah? How do you know that I won’t impart the wisdom of liberal thinking to you, instead?”

She looked so fierce and yet so adorably kissable. “Well,” he said with caution, “I foresee a lot of spirited discussions ahead.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

“Better not puff your mouth up like that or I’ll kiss it right off,” Jack told her, moving toward the door. They now both looked presentable enough to finally open it.

“You like the silver in your hair?”

He nodded. “I do. Well, as much as I can like the concept of doing anything to my hair. It’s a pain in the ass and isn’t exactly a manly sport. But thank you—that was a good recommendation.” He hesitated. “So, will you give me your phone number before I leave?”

“I’ll be here, mostly. So just call After Hours.”

Interesting. She was still keeping him at arm’s length, even after that kiss. She didn’t want to give up any more personal information—not that he couldn’t get her number through back channels quite easily if he tried. But he wanted her to give it to him herself.

“All right then,” he said, trying to dismiss the kernel of disappointment. “I’ll call you.”

She nodded and he walked out.

He’d no sooner gotten into the car than Turls was on his case via cell phone. “Hi, Turly.” Her fussy tones made him smile.

“You will recall, I’m sure, sir, that it is Miss Hilliard’s birthday in two weeks.”

Was it? He’d forgotten. “You’re right—it is her birthday in two weeks.”

“And I’m sure, sir, that you’ve already had the fore-thought to buy her a gift?”

She knew very well that he hadn’t. “Turls,” he lied, “I’ve been racking my brain for days, and I can’t think of what to get her. I’m a guy. We’re not good at this type of thing.”

“Would you like me to find something for you, sir?”

“Yes, that would be fabulous—you know Carol’s taste better than I do. What would I do without you, Turls?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, sir. By the way, you do have Miss Hilliard’s party marked on your calendar? It’s coming up.”