Hélène, the waitress, arrived. Jack ordered a Scotch, then turned his gaze back to his companion and asked slyly:
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"A business dinner… on a Friday night?"
Claire took a sip of wine before responding:
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"A mayor doesn't get vacations or weekends."
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"Unlike the person who stood you up—clearly they know what those words mean."
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"She didn't… Oh, whatever!"
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"I could take her place, if you'd like."
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As she gave him a puzzled look, he added:
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"I could be your business dinner date."
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"Are you done with the first one?" she asked sarcastically.
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The question seemed to throw him off.
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"Oh, you mean Patty? We weren't talking business."
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"Sure looked like it to me."
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Just then, the waitress brought him his Scotch, and Jack said:
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"Eat! Your food's getting cold."
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With a last effort, Claire lifted her fork to her mouth and sipped a bit of water. She had always hated eating in front of a man on what resembled a first date. On the second bite, she nearly choked. She quickly pressed her napkin to her mouth and coughed.
His business dinner? Where did he even get that idea? It was absolutely not a date. More like a trap! Claire was starting to regret coming out tonight. Trying to hide her nerves, she launched into polite conversation and asked innocently:
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"What do you think of the island on weekends?"
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Jack seized the opportunity instantly:
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"I still think that with only two police officers and four thousand people on the island, you're taking serious risks."
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Maybe it really was a work dinner, Claire thought bitterly.
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"You're forgetting the two volunteers," she objected.
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"True," he admitted, sounding a little discouraged.
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Leaning on the railing with one elbow, he gazed for a moment at the beach where evening walkers enjoyed the fresh breeze, then added:
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"This weekend you're in luck—I'm on watch too. Oh, and look what I found in my room… the island's little rag."
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He handed her the newspaper. She gave it a quick glance and remarked:
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"Perfect bedtime reading."
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"I found out that next weekend the island is hosting the Arts and Crafts Festival."
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"That's right!"
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"You organize those twice a year, don't you?"
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"I see the island holds no more secrets for you."
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"How many people are on the island, then?" Jack asked.
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"You can pretty much double the current number," she said with amusement.
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In truth, she was enjoying this conversation immensely. After taking another sip of wine, she added:
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"It's very likely that someone will set up a cot in your bungalow and you'll end up with a roommate."
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"That wouldn't bother me—as long as she likes roses…"
—
Claire shook her head at Jack's knowing smile, yet she couldn't take her eyes off him. His full lips, his intense gaze… The confidence Jack exuded was etched in every feature of his face. And to be honest, it wasn't leaving her indifferent. Unless, of course, it was just the wine talking.
Naturally, Jack would never admit it, but he found Claire deeply attractive when she let herself be teased. He leaned back in his chair, pretending to savor his Scotch, but in truth, it was the woman sitting across from him that held his attention. Claire Betancour was one sexy woman, despite the distance she liked to keep. There was something about her—her charm, her sensuality—that stirred Jack's libido.
Suddenly, she wet her lips. A quick flick of her tongue that mesmerized him… He shook his head to banish the inappropriate thoughts rushing in, then looked up and met Claire's gaze—eyes beautifully lit by the candle between them.
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"Tell me," he resumed in a professional tone to mask his unease, "what's this festival like? Is it one of those typical fall fairs—with over-the-top decorations and fanfare?"
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"Not really," she replied with a laugh. "Local artists and craftsmen come to show and sell their work. Without those two annual festivals, the island wouldn't make ends meet."
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"So it turns into one giant marketplace, doesn't it?"
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"In a way. All our galleries stay open late over the weekend. Tents are set up to accommodate all the exhibitors. We also host musicians. Island Avenue is closed off to traffic… and there are food stands everywhere."
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Jack smiled, touched by her enthusiasm. At that moment, the waitress brought the check.
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"It's on me," he said quickly.
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"You're not seriously going to pay when you didn't even eat!" Claire protested. "Besides, this is my town. I'm the one inviting you."
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Saying this, Claire grabbed the bill and pulled out her credit card. Was it the wine loosening her usual restraint? Jack wondered. Either way, she never missed a chance to remind him who was in charge here.
Jack wasn't used to a woman paying the bill for him—not even just for a glass of Scotch. The bold Patty Barnes, for her part, had accepted his invitation without batting an eye… even though she'd invited herself to his table. When she'd suggested going to a dance club afterward, he'd politely declined. He didn't care much for that kind of initiative in a woman. In his mind, the man should propose, the woman dispose—that was the natural order of things.
Claire paid, then said as she stood up:
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"Thank you for keeping me company, Jack."
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"I'll walk you to your car."
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"That's not necessary! I'm parked right in front of City Hall."
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"Oh, no you don't," Jack cried inwardly. Not this time, Madam Mayor. There were rules in life, and he wouldn't let her break all of them. A gentleman always escorted a lady at night!
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"My car's parked near City Hall too. I'll come with you," he said.
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As they walked to the exit, Claire laughed and said:
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"Honestly, you're just looking for protection! Afraid someone might steal your wallet?"
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"That won't happen. I always keep it in my inside pocket."
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As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, he added:
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"Actually, what really worries me is going back to Mrs. Poole's. She won't let me park at her place. I have to leave my car on an unlit vacant lot."
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"I could drop you off," she offered.
Jack felt his stomach tighten. Did she realize how ambiguous that sounded? Was she hoping he'd invite her back to his little pink cottage? Was she… flirting?
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"Would you really go out of your way for that?" he asked cautiously.
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"No," she said firmly. "I was joking. Just like you were when you pretended to be afraid of the dark."
—
They had reached the Lexus. Claire pulled out her car keys and added: