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.”
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