Just Like Heaven Read Free Page B

Security checks and move in together.”
    “Sweet talker.” She rolled to a stop. “No wonder Lisa’s not going to the gala with you this weekend.”
    “She’s twenty-eight. I don’t have time to wait for her check.”
    She tried to think of something suitably witty to say in response, but her mind was filled with nothing but air.
    “Kate?” Paul’s voice poked through the fog. “Are you still there?”
    “Sorry,” she said yet again. “I don’t know what my problem is today.”
    “Did you eat anything? You’re probably hungry.”
    “I grabbed a brownie and a Frappuccino at the airport while I was waiting for my bags to get through customs.”
    “And now you’re crashing. Pull into a McDonald’s and get an Egg McMuffin.”
    He sounded uncharacteristically solicitous, which made her wonder how bad she sounded.
    “I don’t have time. Armitage expects me there in twenty.”
    “Screw Armitage. Get something to eat. You’re running on fumes.”
    Another wave of nausea gripped her. Maybe he was right. “I’m coming up on Princeton Promenade,” she said, easing over into the right lane. “They have a great food court.” She could grab some protein and a bottle of water and be on her way again with time to spare.
    “Good thinking.”
    “Oh, wait! I don’t have to stop. I have some nuts in the glove box.” She leaned across the passenger seat and popped open the glove box in search of smoked almonds, survivors of her last trip down the shore for the semiannual Atlantique City extravaganza. The Atlantique City trade show was a must for New Jersey antique shop owners, and Kate was no exception. French Kiss maintained a prominent spot twice a year. She sifted through her insurance card, registration, and owner’s manual and pushed aside a small flashlight and an open packet of tissues. Where were the almonds?
    She veered toward the fender of a white Escalade and quickly steered back into her own lane to a chorus of angry horns.
    “What the hell is going on?” Paul asked. “It sounds like you’re at the roller derby.”
    She caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror, and the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach intensified. A single bead of sweat was making its way down her forehead toward her right eye. It was barely seventy degrees outside. Nobody broke into a sweat in seventy-degree weather, least of all her.
    “You’re right,” she said. Everybody was right. “I’m a menace. I should get off the road.”
    “Want me to drive down there and get you?”
    She turned on her blinker and made the right into the parking lot of Princeton Promenade. “Don’t be silly. You’re in Manhattan. I’ll be fine after I get something to eat.”
    “I’ll send a car for you. We use services all over the tristate area.”
    She zeroed in on a spot two lanes over and headed for it. “I’ll stop. I’ll eat. I’ll be fine.”
    “I’m gonna hold you to it.”
    She whipped around the head of the third lane from the entrance and zipped into the spot as a dented blue Honda angled itself behind her. “Uh-oh,” she said.
    “What’s going on?”
    “Some guy in an old blue car is glaring at me. He seems to think I stole his spot.”
    “Did you?”
    “He didn’t have a turn signal on.” She hesitated, replaying the scene in her head. “I might have.”
    “Where is he?”
    “Stopped right behind me.”
    “Blocking you in?”
    She slunk down low in her seat. “I never do things like this. I’m the most polite driver on the planet.”
    “Is he still there?”
    “Yes.”
    “Want me to call mall security? I can use another line.”
    She hesitated. “Maybe you—oh, thank God! He’s driving away.” She watched through the rearview mirror. Good-looking men in her own age demographic had no business wearing Grateful Dead T-shirts.
    Paul wanted to talk her into the mall and out again but her cell battery was running down. The only way he would let her go was if she promised to phone him after she