Rekindled Read Free Page B

the strength of seemingly endless legs.
    “Not entirely. It’s just that now I save my jeans for free-time wear and my boots for cold weather.”
    So he, too, remembered what he had worn that night. “And the peasant shirt?” she asked softly.
    He laughed. “The peasant shirt was replaced for a while by a dashiki, but I’m afraid the modern me is addicted to ordinary sports shirts and sweaters.”
    “Conventional,” she murmured with a faltering smile, teasing him as much as she dared. It was hard to remain indifferent to this man. She felt the strain.
    “Sadly so,” he agreed without any sadness. “But look at you. You’ve done a turnaround. Last time I saw you, your hair was curled, you wore makeup, higher heels, and more daring clothes. You also talked New Orleans. Where’d the accent go?”
    Chloe drew in a long breath. “It faded. I’ve lived up north for too long. Time does different things to each of us, I guess.”
    “It’s for the better. You look beautiful. Unhappy, but beautiful.”
    His candor made her balk. Seeing him was painful enough. Talking more with him could be a total trauma.
    She glanced at the auditorium clock. “My Lord, it’s nearly twelve. I have to run.” Straightening the shoulder strap of her pocketbook and hugging the large folder to her breast, she went to the stage steps. Ross followed. Under the guise of worry at the lateness of the hour, she quickened her step. He kept stride easily.
    :”You’re not driving back tonight, are you?”
    “am.”
    “All the way to … ?”
    “Little Compton.”
    “That has to be a good two-to three-hour drive. Wouldn’t you do better to get an early start in the morning?”
    “Can’t do. I have an early appointment in the morning.” Her voice sounded breathy. It was the rush, she told herself.
    For long moments, Ross said nothing. They reached the front door. He held it; she passed through. In silence they crossed the lawn that separated the high school from the parking lot.
    “I admire you, Chloe,” he said, sounding sincere. “Your work is interesting. You obviously enjoy it.”
    “I do,” she agreed. Relieved to be at her car, she fished in her purse for her keys. The sooner she was back at that work, back in the security of her seafront home, the sooner she could turn the past off again. Slipping in behind the wheel, she rolled her window down to let in the cool night air. With escape imminent, she grew bolder, looking up at Ross as he leaned over with his fingers curved on the lowered window. How handsome he was, she mused. She had been powerfully attracted to him then; she still was. “It was nice seeing you, Ross.”
    “You won’t change your mind and stay over? I’m at the Wayward Sailor, an inn just down the road. I’m sure they have another vacancy, since the height of the season is past. We could grab a snack somewhere and talk.”
    Chloe would have liked nothing better. She knew nothing about the Ross Stephenson who was a successful businessman. Instinct told her that time spent with him would be interesting. It would also be downright dangerous, even devastating.
    She sighed. “That would be nice, but I have to get back. I feel wide awake for driving. I’d just as soon put the miles behind me. Besides, I have that appointment.”
    Ross considered that for a minute, then held up his hands. In gracious defeat, he stepped back. She put the key in the ignition, pumped the gas pedal, turned the key. There was a click, but nothing happened. She repeated the sequence. It always worked. Granted, her small blue compact had seen better days, but it had always started for her-until, she realized as she turned the key a third time, this afternoon. She had heard the same click then, had run back into the house and brought Lee out to help. They had figured the engine was flooded, had waited and won. The car had started. But Murphy’s Law said that it wasn’t going to start now.
    “Trouble?” Ross bent in at the window