Slipping into a pale yellow sun dress, she surveyed herself in the mirror. It looked cool and casual, but not provocative. Unbraiding her hair she brushed it. The hair on her head was thick. The braids not only held it out of her eyes, but thinned the bottom part down enough that it would lay loose across her shoulders and down her back without frizzing. Testing her ankle in a pair of low heels, she nodded silent approval and hurried down the hall.
If she needed any reassurance about her appearance, it was immediately supplied by Yancey's reaction when she entered the family room. He stood and whistled softly, his gaze taking in her dress and hair appreciatively.
"Has anybody ever told you that you're beautiful?"
"Maybe once," she replied flippantly in a wasted attempt to hide embarrassment.
At the car, he opened the door for her in a gentlemanly way. Maybe he was going to show her he could be a nice guy too. That would be cool. The restaurant was one that she had heard of, but couldn't afford to enjoy. She glanced around at the crystal chandeliers and velvet curtains. The mood was Victorian, and the music was classic. It was a few minutes before she became aware that Yancey was watching her. She smiled.
"What a beautiful place."
"You've never been here before?"
"Not hardly. This is a little out of my league." She glanced around the room again and did a double take when she saw the man in a dark brown suit. He was sitting at a table across and down from them. She caught her breath. Was it her imagination, or was it the man who drove the black car? The man glanced up and she put a hand to her throat, feeling the blood drain from her face. It was the same man, she was sure of it.
Yancey noticed the movement and followed her gaze to the man. He frowned into his drink. "You know him?"
Her stomach knotted into a ball as she met his searching gaze. "No." It was true, she didn't know him.
Yancey put his glass down and stood, moving around the table to take her by the arm. "Come on, let's dance."
She hesitated and then joined him. There was no point making an issue of it. One hand on her waist, the other holding hers lightly, he gracefully swept her around. As they blended in with the rest of the dancers, she glanced back at the table where the man sat. He was watching them dance. His hostile gaze met hers. She recoiled inwardly at the malice in his eyes. Did he know she had spied on them? But how could he?