Whispers and Lies. Diane Pershing

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      And with that, she whipped around, walked briskly out the door and shut it in his face.

      Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, Lou thought, leaning against the closed door and closing her eyes. Did I really just do that? Turn down a chance at a date with Will Jamison?

      Was she a total idiot? Will Jamison! The boy turned man she’d had a crush on all through junior and senior high school and some time afterward. She might have stopped fantasizing about him years ago, but now it was all coming back to her in full, living color.

      How many countless nights had she spent in flights of fancy about him? How many yearning, heartsick pages had she filled in her teenage journal, the one she’d finally burned? Back then, in the hormonal excess of youth, she would have done anything for him. One summer, she’d even submitted her tender skin to extreme discomfort when she’d had a tiny W tattooed on the underside of her left breast, near her heart. It was still there, although it had probably faded and shrunk some; with the recent weight loss, her boobs were much smaller.

      She shook her head. Will Jamison. Six feet tall and as near to gorgeous as a man could be and still be all man. With his good looks, brains and popularity, he’d been the crown prince of their high school. And whatever he claimed today, she knew he had never known Lou McAndrews was alive.

      But just now, he’d actually asked her out.

      Another woman would have felt flattered, would have said sure, no problem, where and when? But for Lou, that reaction would have been too simple; what she felt instead was confused and somewhat sad, for the lonely overweight girl she’d been and the suspicious, untrusting woman she’d become, at least as far as men went.

      At the moment, it was simply too much to deal with. Lou felt on edge, scattered, and not only because Mom had died so recently. After taking so much time off, she’d resumed her usual work hours and then some, still carrying her grief around with her like a too-heavy sack of gray rocks.

      On top of that, these last few days she’d been plagued with an all-around feeling of jitteriness. She knew it was stupid, but it almost seemed as though she were under observation, as if someone were keeping tabs on her moves. Most likely it was her imagination. After all, she’d seen nothing suspicious, no shadows, no strangers ducking behind walls or windows as she passed.

      It had to be because she was bone-weary: tired heads and tired eyes sometimes saw things that weren’t there.

      But she couldn’t seem to shake it off. There was just this, well, this…feeling, that was all. Eyes watching her. Waiting for something. It gave her the creeps. As she thought about it now, she gave an involuntary shudder.

      Rubbing her hands over her face, Lou told herself to cut it out. There was no time for stupid imaginings, not with the canines and felines, the ailing macaw and a hamster or two that needed her attention. Tending to them was a much better use of her time and a heck of a lot more productive than feeling paranoid.

      Or mooning over Will Jamison.

      Chapter 2

      At seven that evening, deep in thought even as she stifled a yawn, Lou locked the clinic door, turned around and bumped smack into a chest. A man’s chest. Reeling, she gave a startled cry, but before she could go into full panic mode, two hands had caught her by the shoulders and helped her to keep her balance.

      “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

      She glanced up to see Will Jamison looking down at her, concern in his eyes. “Well, you sure did.”

      Irritated with herself for overreacting, she shook off his grip, making him drop his hands to his side. In the fading light of day, she could see that he’d shaved, was wearing cargo pants, a loud Hawaiian shirt and brown sandals. He was dressed for the heat of July in upstate New York. Heck, he could have been wearing a prison uniform and he still would have looked mouthwateringly splendid.

      She wished she’d thought to wash her face, brush back her hair or put on some lipstick. She felt dreary and unkempt, a kind of bone-weariness that sat on her shoulders like an anvil. She rotated her neck, which was way too tight; her nerves were really on edge. Before she turned her attention back to Will, she darted a quick look at her surroundings.

      Nope. No one ducking suddenly into an alleyway, no strange cars containing men in dark suits and shades staring at her from behind tinted windows.

      Was she slowly going nuts? Having some sort of posttraumatic reaction to her mother’s passing?

      She shook her head, hoping it would unscramble her brains back to where they belonged, then returned her gaze to Will. “So here you are again. That’s two times in one day. Coincidence?”

      “Nope,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve come to buy you dinner.”

      Despite herself, Lou chuckled. “You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t like the word no, were you?”

      “Hey, you have to eat, right? So do I. Come on, Lou. Give it up.” He had an I-dare-you twinkle in his eye, and she felt her defenses evaporating under the onslaught of so much charisma.

      And why did she have the defenses up, anyway? What was the matter with her? She’d been thinking about the man all day, hadn’t she? Why was she holding on so tightly to keeping him at arm’s length? Even so, she gave it one last shot. “I’m not at my best, Will. I look awful. I’m tired. I was planning on picking up a salad and just going home.”

      “You look fine. I have an urge for Lady Jamaica’s barbecue and a whole side of pork ribs. I don’t like to eat alone. It’s two blocks away. Come with me,” he coaxed.

      He grinned, that sensational crooked grin of his, and just like that, she was a goner. Just as she’d been fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years ago. Caught up in the spell of Will Jamison’s smile.

      He offered her his arm, an endearingly courtly gesture, and she indulged in one more moment of indecision. Then muttering, “Oh, what the hell,” she took his arm and allowed herself to be led off down the street.

      As usual, Lady Jamaica’s Place was packed and overly loud with conversation and island music. Mouthwatering smells of garlic and exotic spices filled the air of the high-ceilinged, barnlike restaurant. Once she and Will were seated, Lou gazed around the room and noticed people noticing them. Despite herself, a tiny thrill coursed through her—oh, how her youthful self had yearned for this, to be seen with Will, to be thought of as special enough to be seen with Will.

      Back then, as now, she’d been friends with his sister Nancy, and when she was at the Jamison house, she would watch him surreptitiously, waiting for him to talk to her, to say hello at least. But he and his friends, all the other cool school jocks, steamrolled their way through the house, sweatshirts damp from shooting hoops in the backyard, horsing around, telling dumb jokes, raiding the refrigerator, creating mile-high sandwiches.

      And never, never, ever noticing her, no matter what he’d said earlier. She’d been a nothing. A short, chubby, red-haired, freckled nobody. Not anymore.

      Lou had been raised by a hardworking single mother, had learned to make do with very little money and had an affinity for animals. She got decent enough grades to get into vet school, but had never been a real brain. She did have a sharp sense of humor, but not around Will, never around Will. No, whenever she’d been in the vicinity of her secret crush, she’d been dry-mouthed СКАЧАТЬ