I laughed out loud. “You are awfully persistent for someone who wouldn’t let me see his eyes for days.”
He gave me a sheepish grin. “Full disclosure: My eyes hadn’t bothered me in years. After a particularly rough day of third grade, my grandmother spun me a story about how my eyes were magic. That gave me enough confidence to get through school. I must have been having a moment of insecurity after what Selena said. I’d seen you twice with the shades on, and I liked you so much I didn’t want to ruin things.”
“And how were we going to get the ‘benefits’ portion of the evening? What exactly was your plan?”
“Shock and awe you with my sexual prowess? By the time you saw my eyes, it would be too late. You’d be hooked.”
That part I could, quite unfortunately, believe. “So, you were going to make love to me with your sunglasses on?”
He laughed. “When you say it like that, it sounds absurd.”
“Because it is! They’re beautiful eyes. Maybe they should’ve been part of your campaign from the outset.”
He studied me. “Nah. I don’t think it would’ve done me any good. You’re a woman who knows what she wants, and I, unfortunately, am not it. The only benefit with the pizza will be kitten cuddles.”
Sweet Christmas, what was it about a man who could so gracefully take no for an answer that made me want to jump his bones?
In order to keep from acting on that impulse, I lifted my glass in a toast. “To kitten cuddles.”
He sighed. “To kitten cuddles. Sadly, I think I’ve got it worse for you now than before.”
“Oh?”
“I’m definitely more intrigued than I was before.”
I put on my bestMona Lisasmile. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Malone.”
“That’s a crying shame, Stark.”
Chapter 13
Monday morning found me in Trista’s well-appointed living room. Her former neighbor had contracted me for an act of pettiness. Usually, I dealt only in photos or videos, but when Trista mentioned that the target lived across the street from her, I suggested a front-row seat might be better.
Or maybe I wanted to show off a little for Trista before showing her the pictures and video of a less-than-miserable Malone. It rankled to have not been able to devise some karmic misery for him, but he had yet to experience Mrs. Q’s casserole. I had that going for me.
For now, however, it was all about taking care of Denise, Trista’s neighbor. She sat on the edge of an upholstered chair, wringing a napkin and looking older than her fifty-two years. Dark shadows sat under her eyes, and frown lines creased her brow and bracketed her mouth. She, too, was a new member of the Jilted-for-a-Younger-Woman Club.
“And you’re sure he’ll look at the front yard as he’s leaving?” she asked.
“Pretty sure he’ll notice,” I said as I took in the yard across the street. A large banner in the middle of a sea of plastic flamingos readSixty is the new forty. I had to pat myself on the back for doubling down on the flamingos. Sure, sixty would’ve sufficed. Maybe sixty-two to be strictly accurate, but there was just something about a hundred and twenty plastic flamingos that really added a je ne sais quoi to the whole situation.
“You’d be surprised at what he doesn’t notice,” Denise muttered. She’d begun to shred the napkin rather than simply twist it.
“Patience, Denise,” I said. “Neither your husband nor his housemate leave the house before eight.”
“Oh, look! She’s leaving first today,” Trista said as a silver Mercedes exited the garage at exactly seven thirty. The car rolled down the driveway and into the street but then jerked to a stop in front of the house.
Denise made a strangled sound, then covered her mouth, her eyes wide. If she scooted any more to the edge of her chair, she would land on the floor.
“Let’s see how observant she is,” I said.
Sure enough, she put the Mercedes in park and walked out into the yard, staring at the banner. She picked her way around the flamingos and approached the front door, where she rang the doorbell, hugged herself, and then rang again.
And again.
Mr. Dobbs finally appeared.
Trista, Denise, and I walked to the window to better see the angry gesticulating between the two.
