by Body Wave
"Mr. Thompson could care less. I'll just have to deal with it. She'll be opening within the next few months. In the meantime, I've hired a couple of new employees. You should have seen some of the weirdos who applied for the jobs."
"Marla, you need to take some time off. You're too stressed out."
"Don't worry, I plan to relax." Her eyes twinkled playfully. "I've invited Dalton for dinner tonight. Just the two of us, no interruptions. Brianna doesn't have school tomorrow. It's a teacher workday, so she's sleeping over at a friend's house."
"I hope you won't do anything you'll regret," Anita admonished, wagging a finger. "You are on the pill, aren't you?"
"Ma! If you don't mind, that's private information." She chuckled. "And who are you to give me advice? How often are you seeing Roger?"
Her mother blushed. "We're going out tonight."
"Uh-huh. Well, you just be careful not to do anything _you'll_ regret! Times have changed. Pregnancy isn't the only thing you have to worry about these days."
The only thing she worried about when Dalton showed up at her door at seven o'clock was how would he react to her suggestion. She broke the ice by offering him a glass of chardonnay while they munched on stuffed mushrooms in her kitchen. She'd put a brisket and potatoes in the oven, but they still had some time to go. Smoothing down her short royal blue silk chemise dress, she regarded him from under mascared lashes.
He'd dressed for the occasion in a button-down shirt with a pullover wool sweater and form-fitting trousers. His peppery hair, parted to one side, looked as though he'd used a styling comb. Her gaze sank from his hair to his eyes, gleaming like polished pewter. She choked down a piece of mushroom. Now that she had him all to herself, she felt suddenly shy.
"We promised each other not to talk about any of your cases," she said. "I don't know what to say."
They stood in front of the counter, facing each other.
"I've never known you to be tongue-tied." His mouth quirked in a half-smile.
"Uh, I made a few more calls about Brianna's party. We could do laser tag or bowling, or rent the pavilion at Flamingo Gardens. None of those costs as much as a catered affair. If she wants to go fancier, we could do a dance party at -- "
"Never mind." He put his glass down, then reached for hers and placed it on the counter. Stepping closer, he put a hand on her shoulder. "I've solved the problem."
"You have?" Her breath came short at his nearness. The room seemed to shrink around them as they locked gazes. The scent of his spice aftershave mingled with the aroma of roasting wine-braised beef. Warmth coiled in her center, spiraling outward.
"I reserved a group of tables at Dave and Buster's," he said, his voice husky.
_So he's affected by me, too._ "That's the place with the video games?"
"Right, but they also have a dinner show. Brie loves the idea. It's an interactive murder mystery play, what else?"
"That's great." Grinning, she threw her arms around him. Thank goodness that chore was off her list!
"Umm, I like this," he said, pressing his body against hers.
She tilted her neck to regard him. "I have a proposition. How about if we put a hold on dinner and go straight to dessert?"
"Honey," he said, kissing her, "you've got a deal."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I became interested in tilapia farming when I visited The Land pavilion at Epcot Center in Walt Disney World. This short boat tour, tunefully accompanied by "Listen to the Land," included an educational cruise through the Tropical Greenhouse and Vegetable Production House. These sections showed alternate methods of cultivating crops, while an Aquacell displayed the potential value of farm-raised fish. If you want to read more about these topics, check out the links on my Web site. Next time you sit down to a fish dinner with a cup of coffee, I hope you'll remember what you've read in BODY WAVE.
Coming next is HIGHLIGHTS TO HEAVEN. While Marla wrestles with the mystery of why her neighbor, Goat, has vanished, she mediates an authority struggle between Brianna and Vail. Marla aims to come out on top, but the handsome detective has another position in mind for her! Succumbing to his charms presents its own dangers, not the least of which is being distracted while another killer runs amok in sultry South Florida.
I love to hear from readers. Write to me at: P.O. Box 17756, Plantation, FL 33318. Please enclose a self-addressed, stamped #10 business-size envelope for a personal reply.
E-mail: [email protected]_
Web site: _www.nancyjcohen.com_
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