by Ginny Baird
“And, nothing. She sent me her resume.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, she is. Very.”
“Pretty?” Byron asked in a leading tone.
“What’s that they say?” Heath slowly shook his head. “Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder?”
“That bad, huh? A real barker.”
“Byron!”
“Well, sorry,” he said, looking like he wasn’t. “I’m just saying, when a man dodges that sort of question—”
“That’s because I haven’t seen her.”
“Come on. She must have left cyber footprints somewhere.”
“True. She belongs to a group called the Romantic Hearts Book Club.”
“Whoa, sounds a little scary.”
“Says the newlywed,” Heath bantered.
“There were no photos of her there?”
“All I got was an icon. Of a coffee mug and a book with a rose on it.”
“Could be setting yourself up for something dangerous.”
“Who says I’m setting myself up for anything?”
Byron met his gaze dead-on. “Educated guess.”
****
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Tara shouted, looking up from the e-mail.
“With what?” Jeannie asked, as she carted a full box of new books across the room.
“Heath sent me his Top Ten lists!”
“Ton Tens?” Jeannie asked, confounded.
“Top ten songs, top ten movies, top ten books, and top ten favorite foods!”
“Wow.”
“I know. A lot more personal than a resume, right?” But in another way, it really wasn’t. Heath could just as easily have formulated these answers for a guest spot on a blog, assuming bankers even did that sort of thing.
Scanning through them, Tara was astounded to see they had many favorites in common. In the food and music departments, anyway… Heath’s book and film choices tended to veer more toward action-adventure and hard-boiled mysteries. “You’re never going to guess his favorite flavor of ice cream.”
Jeannie set down her box and grinned. “It isn’t?”
Tara raised her eyebrows and replied in near disbelief, “Pistachio.”
****
Later that evening, Heath carried a nice big bowl of his favorite ice cream and a bourbon into his living room and sat down in a wing chair by the roaring fire. While it was still warm during the day, the nights were growing chilly and Heath savored the chance to use his wood-burning fireplace whenever possible.
He set his laptop on his knees and flipped it open. The first e-mail that caught his eye came from Tara McAdams. When he scanned through her Top Ten lists, his spoon slipped from his fingers, clanking loudly against the side of the bowl.
No way—but it was. She was either putting him on, or… He glanced down at his green dessert then back up at his computer screen. Tara’s favorite ice cream was also pistachio.
Heath had the sudden urge to call her and hear her voice. Would she speak in cool crisp tones like a northerner or draw out her words like the women down south due to her time spent in New Orleans? Heath couldn’t wait to find out.
He snagged his phone off the end table beside him, and pulled up Tara’s resume on his computer. Her contact information was right there. All he had to do was dial.
****
Tara sat on her futon, wrapped in a throw blanket and reading by her woodstove. Her cell phone rang, but she almost ignored the call—thinking the unrecognized number might belong to a solicitor. Then, at the last minute, curiosity got the better of her and she decided to answer.
“Is it really pistachio?” a man asked without preamble. His voice was as smooth as silk and smoky like well-aged scotch. There was a mild lilt at the end of his syllables. A southern accent, but very subtle. Sophisticated and controlled. “I would have pegged you for mocha chocolate chip?” Tara’s face heated when she realized he must be Heath.
“And I would have pegged you for Georgia peach,” she answered with an intentionally sassy twang. Tara gathered her resolve, attempting to sound pleasant and only mildly flirty. “I don’t have to guess how you got my number; I suppose I already know,” she said, referring to the fact that it had appeared on her resume.
“Since you didn’t call, I decided I had to.”
“To ask about ice cream?” she teased.
“No…” He drew out the word to let the weight of it sink in. “I was angling for an introduction.”
Tara’s heart fluttered and her head felt light. “Heath Wellington,” she said fake primly, though her pulse was racing. “I’m Tara McAdams. It’s nice to meet you.” Then she giggled before adding jokingly, “There, how was that?”
His laughter rumbled. “I’d say pretty perfect.”
“You sound different from how I imagined.”
“Oh?”
“Younger, I guess.” And a heck of a lot sexier, she thought, but didn’t say.
Heath chuckled again and she could almost imagine a sparkle in his dark brown eyes. “Let’s hope that’s a plus.”
“I didn’t know at first…” Tara hesitated a beat before continuing. “I mean, before seeing your resume, I wasn’t sure you were even close to my age.”
“You took a pretty big gamble with that bottle,” he teased. “Anyone could have found it. Even an octogenarian, it’s true.”
“Maybe an octogenarian wouldn’t have been able to use the Internet?”
“You don’t know my Granddad,” Heath said warmly.
“Does he live in Savannah?”
“Yeah.”
“Other family, too?”
“Just him for now. My parents and brother live in Charlotte,” he answered. “How about you? Got family nearby? Up there in faraway Beaumont, Maine?”
“It’s not so faraway to me,” she answered sunnily. “And yeah, I’ve got my dad here.” After a pause, she decided to brave it. “Heath?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Take a stab at two, if you’d like.”
“The blonde…? The one who was with you in the photos…”
“The lady’s been sleuthing,” he hummed into the receiver and Tara’s cheeks burned hot.
“Is she…? What I mean is, you looked pretty close.”
“We were, for all of three years.”
“Three years. Wow. That’s a long time.”
“I know.”
“But, it’s over?”
“Yes.”
“What ended it?” Tara asked, realizing she didn’t necessarily have a right to know. Still, she couldn’t help from asking, just in case he’d volunteer. When there was silence down the line, she rushed in with an apology, understanding she’d overstepped her bounds. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Let’s just say a twist of fate,” Heath answered evenly.
“Fate?”
“You do believe in it?” he challenged mildly. “You run a bookstore dedicated to romance, after all. And, you’re a member of the Romantic Hearts Book Club.”
“Aha!” she cut in with a playful edge. “So I’m not the only one who’s been sleuthing. Hmm.”
“Guilty as charged.” Tara heard a glass tinkle in the background and guessed he was drinking something. Bourbon on the rocks or maybe a brandy? “You’re a hard woman to pin down online.”
“Maybe that’s because I like my privacy.”
“Privacy, huh.” He sighed heavily, sounding almost wistful. “What a concept.”
“I suppose you don’t get much of that?”
“In some ways, Savannah is a small town.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
“Sometimes more than I’d like. More often than not, it’s to New York.”
“I like the city.”
“Yeah, me too. Except for when I’m there on business,” he added with a chuckle. “Which is always.”
“Maybe you should try going for fun sometime?”
&n
bsp; “Yeah, well.” The cadence of his voice picked up as he answered. “Maybe I will.”
“I’m really glad you called,” she told him. “You’re very easy to talk to.”
“So are you.”
“Will you call again?”
“Nope.” Tara’s heart sank, before he added quickly, “I want you to call me.”
“When?”
“Anytime. Surprise me.”
****
Tara hit End Call, her fingers trembling. She couldn’t believe it, but it was true! She’d just spoken to the man who’d found her message in a bottle. Heath definitely had a daring side. He’d called her, hadn’t he? And he most definitely was smart. And, boy oh boy, did he ever sound sexy.
Tara sighed and threw her head back with a giggle, as she clutched her cell phone to her chest. He’d called! Heath had actually called! And he seemed absolutely terrific! She couldn’t wait to talk to him again. Now, all Tara had to do was decide when.
Chapter Seven
Jeannie grabbed Tara’s hand and squealed when Tara told her the news. They were seated at a small table at the little sandwich shop by the docks. It was their custom to close the bookstore at lunchtime once a week to do a girls’ lunch and take a breather. They’d both ordered fried fish sandwiches and hot coffee, and sat by a window overlooking the bay and the scattered lobster pot buoys that bobbed beyond it.
The tide was high and the fishing boats that were typically moored near the mouth of the cove were out to sea. Brisk winds blew, kicking up white-tipped waves, as gulls soared beneath a clear blue sky.
“That’s so great, Tara,” Jeannie said excitedly. “I can’t believe Heath called! How did he sound?”
“Gorgeous!” Tara ducked her head and giggled. “I mean, seriously, he did.”
“Yeah well, you’re pretty gorgeous, too,” Jeannie said, surveying her. “What with those ebony locks and those dark green eyes… Not to mention your girlish figure!”
“Shut up,” Tara said, but she was smiling.
A realization hit Jeannie and she gasped. “Heath doesn’t even know what you look like, does he?”
Tara shrugged. “No, and it doesn’t seem to matter.”
“Go on!”
“I mean, he hasn’t asked for a picture or anything.”
“Are you going to send one?”
“I don’t know.” Tara lowered her voice and raised an eyebrow. “I kind of like being a woman of mystery.”
Jeannie rollicked with laughter. “Sure. Okay. Anything you say! Whatever you’re doing seems to be working for you.” She took a bite of her sandwich then set it down. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say when you call him?”
“Honestly?” Tara rolled her eyes. “I have no idea!”
“You could always ask him to come visit.”
“Stop.”
“I mean it. Maybe he’d like Maine?”
“Yeah, so? Maybe I’d like Savannah, but I’m not going there, either.”
“Why not?”
“That might put me at a disadvantage, being on his turf.”
“You think he’d feel disadvantaged here?”
“No,” Tara answered truthfully. “Heath sounds like a man who can pretty much take care of himself—anywhere on the globe.”
Jeannie widened her eyes and leaned forward. “This is so crazy! Imagine, Tara! Heath Wellington might just be the man of your dreams!”
“I wouldn’t go putting the cart before the horse just yet,” Tara answered reasonably. But beneath her calm exterior, Tara’s pulse was racing. It seemed silly. Impossible. But way down deep in her heart Tara held a tiny glimmer of hope.
With her and Heath both running their own businesses and them living several states apart, the odds were certainly against anything serious developing between them. Then again, sometimes physical limitations didn’t matter. Wasn’t that what the sign above the door in her bookshop read? Love knows no bounds.
“All right, I’ll stop jumping the gun,” Jeannie agreed, “but only if you promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’ll name your first-born child after me.”
Tara playfully slapped her arm. “Jean-nie!”
“I know, I know,” she said giddily. “I just can’t help hoping for you.”
Truth be told, Tara couldn’t help hoping for herself, either. “Yeah,” she said with a warm blush. “Thanks.”
****
Two weeks later, Tara phoned Heath on Saturday morning. Since she’d first returned his phone call a few days after receiving his, they’d e-mailed, texted, and talked nearly every day, with each of them taking turns initiating the phone calls. They spoke about nothing in particular and things that came to mind.
Very easily, they’d slipped into the routine of sharing tidbits about their days: Tara’s funny customer stories and Heath’s reports on humorous office antics. Like the time one of the office assistants left her celebrity crush’s photo on the copier, then claimed she was merely making a collage of successful financial figures.
Tara had the middle-aged lady who came in every Wednesday, at exactly eleven o’clock, to ask about the new books that had arrived that week. She’d studiously browse through them then leave without purchasing even one. Tara and Jeannie suspected that was because she was hunting down her top picks at the neighborhood library. But that was okay with them. The woman was very friendly and liked to talk books, so they enjoyed seeing her on a regular basis.
Tara carried her mug of coffee to the tiny table nestled in a nook by the window overlooking the bay. A blanket of white covered the ground and minute snowflakes twirled through the air. But a little wintery weather wouldn’t prevent the people of Beaumont from conducting business as usual. All of them were used to it.
She had about an hour before her shop opened so she decided to dedicate part of it to speaking with Heath. Their conversations always lightened her heart and lifted her spirits. Already, she’d grown accustomed to them and looked forward to hearing his voice. She caught him in a jovial mood and sounding wide-awake.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, instantly recognizing her voice.
“I hope I’m not calling too early?”
“Been awake for hours,” he said. “Just sitting here reading the paper and drinking my coffee.”
“I’m having my coffee, too.”
“Costa Rican dark blend?”
“You know me so well,” she said, laughing.
“I’m starting to know you better, that’s true.”
“How’s the weather in Savannah?” she asked lightly.
“Getting colder. And, there?”
“We got a foot of snow last night.”
Heath chuckled loudly. “It’s not even November.”
“No, but it will be soon.”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking a lot about that.”
“Me, too,” Tara offered. “Our shipment of holiday books came in this week.”
“Romantic holiday reads?” he teased.
Tara grinned. “Absolutely!”
“Tara?”
“Huh?”
“Can I ask you something about your message in a bottle?” There was a serious note in his voice, and Tara reflected on the fact that he hadn’t broached this topic to date. Perhaps he thought it was finally time. He was likely curious.
“Sure.”
“Why did you send it?”
“Well, I…” Tara swallowed hard. “I don’t know. It was a lark, I guess. Me and my friends were on this island—”
“Enchanted Island?”
“How did you know?”
“The hotel stationery was a dead giveaway.”
Tara laughed in understanding. “Yes, that one. A group of us from my online book club got together there, and on our final night we all kind of did the bottle toss as a dare.”
“You mean there are other bottles floating around out there?”
“I assume so. That is
, apart from Meg’s. Someone already found hers. It actually washed back up on Enchanted Island.”
“What happened there?”
Tara felt herself blush. “She’s getting married.”
“I see,” he said after a pause. “How many of you did this?”
“Twelve altogether.”
“Imagine that.” Heath sounded intrigued. “I might have found somebody else’s message.”
“One of my friends’? Of course that’s possible.”
“But I’m glad that I didn’t,” he went on. “I’m pleased that I found yours.” His voice deepened. “Because I like you, Tara. I like you a lot.”
“You barely know me,” she said, caught off guard.
“Hardly matters, does it?”
“Why not?”
“Because you like me, too.”
Tara’s skin burned hot. “It’s true, I find you…interesting.”
“Interesting? Um-hum. I’ll take that over boring, any day.” He waited a moment before asking, “Tara…?” From the sound of his voice, he was leading up to something.
“Yes?” she asked nervously.
“About what you wrote specifically… Was that just a ploy to get a response? Or, did you really mean it?”
“I…er…well…” Tara took a sip of coffee, biding her time.
“It’s okay, either way,” he said, letting her off the hook. “It’s not like I’m feeling pressure. Frankly, I thought the idea was cute.”
“Cute?” Tara asked weakly.
“It was very innovative, that note you wrote. That’s why I felt compelled to answer. You made me want to know more about you.”
Tara felt fire creep into her cheeks. “I’m really glad that you did… Answer, I mean.” She measured her words, feeling awkward about what she was going to say next. “Heath, I think I should make it clear… What I’m saying is, I’m really happy that you got in touch, but I don’t want you to think… Or feel like you have to—”
“I rarely do anything I don’t want, Tara. If you don’t know that about me already, you’ll learn that soon enough.” After a beat, he added, “You know, all this phone chatting is great, but I thought it might be nice if we could see each other sometime.” Tara’s heart thumped wildly. “In person.”