“Six dozen.”
Teri groaned. They must’ve cost a fortune. Six dozen roses? No man had ever given her more than a single rose.
“I hope you like chocolates,” he said next. “I have ten pounds from the top six candy companies around the world. Bobby didn’t know if you had a preference, so he wanted all the bases covered.”
“Ten pounds of chocolate?” No man had ever bought her chocolate. Men generally knew not to give an overweight girlfriend candy.
“They’re in the car, along with the perfume.”
“Perfume?” Hands on her hips, Teri studied Bobby’s driver. “What’s this about?”
“Well, Miss Teri…” James removed his driver’s hat and exhaled. “Bobby asked a colleague what women like, and his friend said flowers, candy, perfume and sentimental cards.”
“Where’s Bobby?”
“In the car,” James told her. “I’m double-parked outside. Bobby’s in there signing the cards.”
“Cards?”
“The sentimental ones. He bought a dozen.”
Sure enough, the stretch limo was parked in a lot reserved for the occupants of the apartment complex. Several of her neighbors had stepped outside to gawk at it. Her neighborhood wasn’t accustomed to seeing cars that required uniformed drivers.
Teri marched past her neighbors and opened the passenger door. Without waiting for an invitation, she climbed inside. Yup, there was Bobby Polgar, pen in hand. Boxes of chocolates were stacked beside him, as well as a pile of sealed envelopes and a stack of expensive perfume boxes.
“Why are you here?” she asked, sitting across from him. She tried to sound stern, and yet she couldn’t deny her thrill of happiness.
“You asked me not to phone you again,” he answered, eyes widening behind the dark-rimmed glasses. “I didn’t call.”
“But—”
“I would’ve arrived two days ago but I was in the middle of a match.”
“Bobby.” He made it so difficult to be angry. “Why are you here?” she repeated, at a loss to understand this man.
He didn’t speak for a long time, and then he blurted out, “I need a haircut.”
“Anyone qualified to cut hair can do that. You didn’t have to fly halfway around the world for me to do it.”
“I didn’t want anyone else.”
“Why the roses and the chocolates—and everything else?” She gestured toward the perfume. According to James, Bobby had solicited advice on the gifts women preferred, and been given these generic suggestions. The real question was why he felt he needed to present her with gifts at all.
He shifted uncomfortably as he glanced around the vehicle. He seemed to look everywhere but at her. “I didn’t know what I’d done that you’d ask me not to phone. I liked talking to you. I looked forward to it.”
“I did, too,” she reluctantly confessed.
“You did?” He wrinkled his brow. “Then why did you make me stop?”
If he hadn’t figured it out, she couldn’t explain it.
“Experts have calculated that I’ve committed to memory over a hundred thousand possible chess configurations,” he said. “I look at a chessboard and within seconds I can figure out how any move my opponent makes is going to play out. I know chess, but I don’t know women. I want to know you. I like you.”
“I like you, too. In fact, I like you a lot and that frightens me.”
“Why?”
She might as well tell him the truth. “I’m not all that intelligent.”
He shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “I don’t think that’s true. But even if it is, I’m smart enough for both of us. Did you like the roses?”
“They’re beautiful.”
“May I kiss you now?”
She laughed and then realized he was serious. He watched her, anticipating her kiss. He met her eyes and extended his hand to her.
Crouching, she made her way toward him. Because of all the candy and perfume stacked next to him, she had to sit on his lap. She slid her arms around his neck, then removed his glasses, folded them and slipped them into his pocket. When she’d finished, she gave him an encouraging smile and leaned forward so their lips could meet.
As kisses went, this one was pretty tame. Bobby might know plenty of chess moves, but that was the only kind of move he knew. He sure didn’t have a lot of sexual finesse. Well…he might possess enough brains for both of them, but she had enough experience.
Bobby cleared his throat after two follow-up kisses, each lengthier and more intense than the one before.
“That was very nice,” Bobby whispered. He seemed to have difficulty speaking.
“Yes, it was. Are you ready for your haircut?”
He cleared his throat a second time and nodded.
Most of her neighbors had gone back inside when Teri emerged from the limousine. Thank goodness for tinted windows! If any of the stragglers recognized Bobby, they didn’t say anything. Bobby gave his driver instructions to return in a couple of hours and accompanied Teri into her small apartment.
Had she known she was going to have company, she would’ve cleaned the place up a bit. Bobby didn’t seem to notice that she wasn’t giving Martha Stewart any competition. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice anything but her.
“What?” she muttered, uncomfortable with the way his eyes followed her every move.
“There’s something different about you,” he commented.
“I dyed my hair black.” She pulled out a kitchen chair and gestured for him to sit. She kept a spare cape in a bottom drawer; she took it out and wrapped it around him, fastening it at the neck.
“Why did you change your hair color?” he asked. “I liked it the way you had it the last time I saw you.”
“I was in a black mood,” she said and went briefly to her bedroom to retrieve scissors and a comb.
She’d just started trimming his hair when he announced, “I want to marry you.”
Teri lowered her arms and exhaled harshly. “Stop it.”
“I mean it.”
“I’ll cut your hair, but I am not marrying you.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t even know me!”
“Is that important?”
“Yes,” she said, shocked he’d ask such a fundamental question. “Love helps, too.”
Bobby frowned. “I’m not good with emotions.”
No surprise there. “Go figure,” she teased.
Bobby smiled slightly. “Will you let me kiss you again?”
She continued to clip the sides of his hair. “Probably.”
“Tonight?”
“How much chocolate did you bring?”
“Ten pounds. Is it enough?”
“Plenty,” she assured him. Just to show him how much she appreciated good chocolate, she straddled his lap. Scissors still in her hand, she hooked her arms around his neck. With a surge of joy she didn’t bother to examine or to question, she gave Bobby Polgar, world chess champion, a kiss that could’ve won a competition of its own.
Twenty-Two
“There’s someone here to see you,” Frank Chesterfield, the bank president, told Justine late Friday afternoon. She normally worked mornings, but Frank had asked her to take care of some pending loan applications so she’d agreed to stay. She’d gone into the vault and before she could ask who it was, Frank was gone.
Most likely Warren Saget had stopped by for another chat. He was still doing that despite her lack of encouragement or welcome. He chose to ignore her wishes and persisted in visiting her far too often. It wasn’t that Justine disliked Warren. He was her friend and had proved it the day of her panic attack.
She could do without seeing him right now, though. Seth had been depressed for several days, since the official end of the arson investigation. The building, or what was left of it, had been released to them and quickly demolished. Seth had watched it all, watched the trucks hauling away the charred remains of their dream. Justine was concerned about him and resented Warren’s frequent appearances, despite his kindness to her.
She was married and she loved her husband and no friendship was worth risking her marriage over. Seth had made his feelings toward the other man plain. He didn’t want her seeing Warren, no matter how platonic the relationship. Justine had every intention of abiding by his wishes. She wouldn’t want him lunching with an old girlfriend, either.
However, it wasn’t Warren waiting at her desk, it was her husband. She felt a stirring of excitement, of delight untainted by anger or sadness. “Seth!”
He stood as she approached. “Hi.” His smile told her all was well. “I’ve come to make a deposit.”
Justine blinked. “Okay,” she murmured, “I’ll take it to the teller’s cage.”
“Aren’t you interested in what I’m about to put in our bank account?” he asked, the gleam in his eyes signalling his pleasure.
“Of course.”
“It’s my first commission check.” Two weeks earlier, Seth had made his first sale; he’d downplayed the event but Justine had been very proud of him. Taking her lead from Seth, she’d acted equally casual.
“Congratulations, Seth,” she said now.
“Thank you.” He did seem pleased with himself. Standing, he withdrew his wallet from his hip pocket, ceremoniously removed the check and handed it to her.
Justine took one look at the amount and had to sit down. “This is your commission check?” she asked, hardly able to form the words.
“Yup.”
“For one boat?”
“Yup.”
She looked again. “What did you sell, the Queen Mary?”
Seth’s laughter echoed against the bank walls. “No, my darling wife, it was a fishing vessel, not unlike the one Dad and I used in Alaska.”
“This is a lot of money.” Although the restaurant had done well, this amount was more profit than they’d made in three months at The Lighthouse.
He smiled in acknowledgement. “Larry says I’m a natural and if so, it’s because I know the business. I lived it, worked it and, well, I’ve made two more sales from referrals.”
“Oh, Seth!” she gasped. “I couldn’t be happier for you.” As far as Justine was concerned, the money was secondary. They could certainly use it, but what really mattered was the contentment she saw in her husband’s eyes. She felt a renewed hope that the arsonist hadn’t devastated their marriage along with the restaurant.
“I already picked up Leif and he’s spending the night with my parents,” Seth told her. Their son had been at a birthday party for the afternoon.
Justine gave her husband a slow smile. “He is?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And where will we be?” she asked.
“We’re going out to celebrate.”
That happy smile was back on Seth’s face. “Sounds wonderful to me,” she said.
“Jay and Lana are joining us in Silverdale.”