That thought stirred more than his blood.
Maybe it was for the best that she’d turned down his offer to get something to eat last night. The woman was a distraction, something he didn’t need right now. Something he didn’t want.
Still, he thought, listening to the sound of her moving around upstairs, a guy could dream, couldn’t he? He took another swig of coffee. No harm in that.
Movement on the sidewalk outside the front window caught Reid’s attention. A man who looked familiar hurried past, and Reid recognized him as one of the counter clerks from the bakery. The guy with the blond ponytail. A moment later the sound of a door buzzer filtered down through the vent upstairs. The man hadn’t gone to the bakery, Reid realized. He’d gone upstairs.
Reid frowned. A little early to come visiting, wasn’t it?
He heard the sound of footsteps moving to the door, muffled voices, then movement again toward—Reid furrowed his brow to remember the layout of the apartment—the sofa, he guessed. Or the bedroom?
Pushing away from the desk, Reid moved closer to the vent and listened. Though it was hard to hear everything, he could distinguish between Tina’s voice and the man’s, and was able to catch snippets of what they were saying.
“I can’t go on like this…” Man’s voice.
Tina’s voice. “Jason, please be patient and I’m sure we can…”
Man’s voice again. “…been patient and nothing has changed…”
Heavy footsteps started, back and forth across the ceiling. The man—Jason—was obviously pacing.
“…a solution,” Tina said. “I promise.”
Reid concentrated, trying to hear more than bits and pieces of the conversation. He wanted to yell up at them to talk louder.
“I’m going to tell them,” Jason said, the frustration heavy in his voice. “We’re in love. They’ll have to accept it.”
Reid went still. Tina and the counter clerk? In love?
The vent was too high to get any closer. He considered dragging a desk chair over and standing on it, but that was a little extreme. Besides, it might be a little difficult to explain if someone saw him with his ear pressed up to the vent.
“…to get to work now,” Jason said. “…not giving up.”
Footsteps moved back toward the door, then silence.
Confused, Reid stared at the vent for a long moment. He didn’t know what, but something wasn’t quite on the mark here.
You heard what you heard, pal, a voice in his head said. Let it go.
Still…
Oh, hell. He shook his head, wondered why he was having such a difficult time believing that Tina was in love with the bakery clerk. Because of something he’d thought he’d seen in her eyes yesterday? Because of something he’d thought he’d felt when he’d taken her hand in his?
Frowning, he downed the rest of his coffee and crumpled the paper cup in his hand. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to believe it. Because he had designs on her himself.
But if she’d been so in love with this guy, then why hadn’t she simply said she was seeing someone when he’d asked her out? Reid knew he hadn’t exactly been subtle letting her know he was interested.
Who the hell could figure women out? he thought, dragging a hand through his hair. He should be glad she was involved with someone else. He’d known her one day, and already she’d occupied way too much of his brain space. He had a hundred things to do if he was going to have this office up and running by tomorrow. Not one of those things involved a pretty, golden-eyed temptress whose image had kept him awake half the night.
Tossing his crumpled cup into a trash can, he headed for the back office to unload the dozen or so boxes of office supplies that had been delivered yesterday afternoon.
Suddenly, the day—the year—stretching out ahead of him seemed very long, and very boring, indeed.
That entire morning the bell over the bakery door never stopped ringing. Currently a line of customers stretched six deep. Nearly every table and chair were occupied. It wasn’t even eleven, Tina realized, and the muffins were gone, the Danish nearly depleted and only a few loaves of bread remained on the shelves.
But still, the biggest seller for the morning at Castle Bakery wasn’t baked goods or even the coffee bar, Tina noted while she crammed blue icing into a pastry bag.
It was gossip.
“Mariska Alexander, I declare, y’all must be dizzy with delight.” Sharie Jo Sullivan pressed a bag of chocolate rugala to her chest, then glanced at her sister, Louzanna. “Imagine, Lulu, right next door to Abraham Danforth’s campaign headquarters.”
“The Savannah Morning calls him Honest Abe II.” Louzanna handed three bills to Mariska, then dug in her coin purse. “I hear he intends to run a clean, scandal-free campaign.”
“What do I know about politics?” Mariska said with indifference. “They will be good tenants. Anything else is of no interest to me.”
Louzanna lifted a dubious brow. “And I suppose the fact that Abraham’s sons and nephews and all those other eligible bachelors gathered in one place, no more than a few yards from here, doesn’t interest you, either.”
Mariska shrugged, then slowly smiled and leaned across the counter. “Like fish in a barrel,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
The women all laughed.
Tina’s grip tightened on the pastry bag, and blue icing exploded onto the middle of the sheet cake she’d just frosted. Gritting her teeth, she reached for a knife to scrape off the errant icing.
“We saw Rachel talking with Reid Danforth on the sidewalk last night,” Sharie Jo whispered. “After the bakery was closed.”
Tina glanced over to the coffee bar where Jason was steaming milk for a latte. Every time Reid’s name had been mentioned this morning—which had been numerous times—Jason’s eye had started to twitch. She wanted to tell him that Reid was no threat to him, but she knew Jason wouldn’t believe her. Especially now, after listening to the female customers expound on the Danforth attributes.
Tina could only hope that the novelty would wear off after a few days and the gossipmongers would find something—or someone—else to occupy their minds. But considering the high profile of the Danforth company, Tina seriously doubted that was going to happen anytime soon. While her mother, Sharie Jo and Louzanna prattled on, Tina forced her attention back to writing “Happy Birthday, Randy” on her cake, determined not to let their conversation bother her.
“All those eligible bachelors,” Louzanna said with a sigh. “Ah, if only I was ten years younger.”
Sharie Jo rolled her eyes. “Then you’d still be ten years too old.”
“Don’t be sassy, Sharie Jo,” Louzanna said with a sniff, then tucked an imaginary loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Besides I wasn’t thinking of the younger Danforth men, I was talking about Abraham.” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality. “A handsome widow in his fifties. Surely the man must be lonely.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Lulu,” Sharie Jo said. “Rich, powerful, handsome men are never lonely. Bored, maybe. Lonely, no.”
In the middle of writing the t in birthday, Tina went still. Is that why Reid had asked her out last night? she wondered. Because he was bored? To say that she was different from the women he usually dated was probably the understatement of the century. Blue-blooded Savannah socialites and debutantes were more up his alley. Women with names like Caroline or Blair or—what was the name of the woman in the magazine article she’d plucked from the magazine rack and read this morning? Oh, yeah.