And, she discovered, so was the inscrutable but fascinating Dr. London.
He was wearing off-white chinos that neither sagged nor fit too tightly, belted at just the right place around his waist. In comparison to the previous shirts he’d worn—crisp white or pale blue—the one he’d donned tonight was positively eye-popping. He’d chosen blue as well—this time, a deep navy, with a tiny white pattern on it—and from the slight sheen of the material, Teddy thought it might be either silk or some sort of costly rayon blend.
The dark blue showed off the tan on his forearms and the sun-washed hair sprinkled there. Damp, his hair burned like dull copper instead of carrot. He’d combed it back neatly on the sides and top—though it was just beginning to curl up as it dried, and there was an errant lock that appeared ready to spring free and tumble over his temple. And he’d somehow managed a quick shave, for his chin was smooth and she caught a whiff of something fresh and male that had her hormones sitting up and taking notice.
“I looked up how to get to Trib’s,” he told her as they climbed into his Grand Cherokee. “I wasn’t sure if you knew, and I haven’t been into Wicks Hollow myself.”
“Oh, good. I haven’t seen the downtown area for years. My first night here, Declan and Leslie—that’s his girlfriend—took me to dinner at a non-touristy place outside of town.” She gestured to her dress and then to his similarly colored shirt. “Apparently, you got the memo.”
“The memo?”
She gave a huff of quiet laughter. “It’s a joke—we’re wearing the same colors, and— Well, never mind.” She winced a little at her sad attempt at humor, and began to bubble up with all of the conversation she’d stoppered up inside over the last five days. “I can’t believe I wrote fifty thousand words in six days. Neither can Harriet—I called her with the news.”
“That’s a lot of words,” he agreed. “When I write articles or research papers, they might be in the range of five thousand words or so—and it takes me a lot longer than a week.”
They’d crossed the bridge from the lighthouse’s island, and he eased the car onto the two-lane county highway. The road traced the shore of Lake Michigan, offering glimpses of the vast, sparkling blue through pines, birches, and other trees, as well as small bluffs and a few houses tucked into the forest that edged the lake.
She beamed at him. “I’m just so glad the book’s done. Well, mostly done. Now that I have a first draft, going back and fine-tuning it and tweaking things, making some edits and maybe moving some scenes around, is much easier work.”
“So it’s not really finished, then?” he said as they turned off Highway 31 and onto Wicks Road.
A sign said:
Welcome to Wicks Hollow
A Hidden Jewel on Lake Michigan
Population 1500
“I’m finished enough to know that I’ll have a final draft for my editor within the next couple of weeks. That’s what matters. The story’s done, so the pressure’s off,” she said, resting her head back against the seat and turning to look at him.
Nice profile, Dr. London,she thought. Strong nose, good chin,excellentlips. Very nibble-able.
“Well, you definitely look a lot more relaxed,” he said after a few moments of silence and a quick look her way. “I like your dress.”
She smiled to herself. “Thank you. So, what have you been doing all week besides delivering food to me? Which, really, Oscar, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Back home—I live in New York City—I can call for food delivery when I’m on deadline.”
“I didn’t mind. It seemed like a waste for each of us to cook separately anyway, so— Oh, damn, I forgot to tell you. Your cousin came by the other evening.”
“Declan stopped by? I didn’t realize.”
“Yes. I— Well, since it wasn’t anything urgent, I didn’t think you’d want to be bothered. And he agreed.”
“Thank you for that. I appreciate it. Did he leave some books for me to sign?”
“Yes. I should have remembered before we left—then we could have brought them with us. And dropped them off.” He glanced at her. “He was telling me a crazy story about a ghost in Leslie’s B&B.”
“I heard something about that—he’s promised to give me details the next time— Oh, there’s a parking place right there.” They’d been driving through the semi-familiar village for three blocks already, and that was the first open spot she’d seen. “Wow. The town sure has changed since I was here last.”
“How long ago was that?” he asked, maneuvering his Jeep expertly into the parallel parking spot.
“You’re good at that,” she said. “Usually it takes me a few tries to get into a spot like this.”
He shrugged. “It’s just geometry.”
“Yeah. Math wasn’t ever my strong suit. Hence the writing career.” She opened the door and popped out without waiting for him to come around. “It’s been, oh, at least ten or fifteen years since I was here.” She laughed, gesturing at the signs for the main intersection of the compact business district. “I always found it amusing that the two main roads at the town center area are called Pamela Boulevard and Faith Avenue—when neither of them is hardly any more than a two-lane street.”
“Maybe the founders were being optimistic,” Oscar said, joining her on the sidewalk.
