Finding Jessie: A Mystery Romance Read Free Page B

speck of makeup that he could see. Thirty-two, he guessed and then inwardly cringed. That was probably about right. Compared to him, she was a baby.
    Jessie put away the halves of the book in her handbag, took his arm as if she had known him all her life, and nodded at him to get going.
    They set off down the frost-heaved sidewalks to where the warm cafe awaited. The feel of her graceful hand poised on his forearm was a sweet weight. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so hopeful. He even had butterflies cavorting in his stomach.
    The angel on his right shoulder whispered again in his ear: After lunch, then what are you going to do with her?
    The truth was, he had no idea. Unless she really did come over to get the book mended.
    Sam turned to steal a look at her while they were walking, but saw she was not watching where she was going. Her eyes were on him! She was relying on him to steer her safely to the coffee shop. As they walked, she measured him intently with those startling blue eyes, as if he was not the type of man to whom she was accustomed.
    Suddenly, he felt a lot warmer and tingling in places that should never be tingling in public. He tried not to look down at himself. How long had that been? Months? Certainly, he had been alone the last time this had happened.
    He turned his eyes to hers and couldn’t stop looking at her eyes. Jessie had a dozen questions in them and a half-smile on those moist, curved raspberry-colored lips that had no need of cosmetics. Her lush red hair bounced like a storybook princess. Her step was so light that it was nearly inaudible on the pavement, compared to the heavy clomping of his giant winter boots.
    The angel’s voice said in his ear, Once you go in the coffee shop with her, you’re approaching the point of no return.
    He took the angel’s warning as a challenge, one that could go either way. Sam was intrigued by what was turning into a lucky day. He hadn’t had one in decades.
    The two of them almost bumped into a wrought iron light post, so engaged were they in staring at each other as they walked.
    “Whoops! That was a close one. I’m relying on you to look where we’re going,” Jessie teased.
    Sam suddenly felt the shards of a cynical life begin to melt away under a cascade of what he identified as hope . The possibilities that might extend from lunch with her thudded against the door of his heavily guarded heart as they walked together, arm-in-arm, down the streets of the bustling port city that he loved.
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
    The delicious aromas of the coffee shop were nearly as intoxicating as his female companion. Suddenly, he was ravenous. They ordered off the lunch specials menu. The server brought steaming bowls of lobster chowder with cellophane packets of hexagonal oyster crackers. Plates of crab cakes were accompanied by cole slaw, tartar sauce and lemon wedges. At the end of the meal, the server brought huge slices of heavily frosted devil’s food cake with French vanilla ice cream, à la mode .
    He found it a sensual pleasure to watch Jessie eat with deliberate slowness and enjoyment. Sam had never seen a slender girl put away the chow quite like Jessie did. It was like watching food porn. She ate as if every mouthful was decadent and rare. Hopefully, she had a lively metabolism to match her appetite and discerning palate. He found her an engaging lunch companion, with much to say that was absorbed by that brain of his that never forgot a detail.
    They talked of places in New England where they had both lived or visited. He found out that she also followed hockey and baseball, as he did. By dessert, he knew that she loved to dress in white and blue, that she dabbled in watercolors and plein -air painting of seascapes, and that she loved to cook and someday wanted a decent kitchen to do it in. He learned that she was good at blackjack but bad at shooting pool. She had taken piano lessons as an adult and had played hymns for a small