You Must Remember This. Marilyn Pappano

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СКАЧАТЬ was saved from answering because they’d arrived at the Saloon. She puzzled over his response, though, as they made their way to the booth farthest from the door. What did a girlfriend have to do with his presence with her this evening? If this were a date, sure, she could see the conflict, but it wasn’t. They were here to discuss the problem of his missing identity and the possibility, however remote, that her computer skills could be of use to him.

      Weren’t they?

      She slid onto one bench, laid her purse aside and folded her hands together. She felt prim and stuffy, out of place in the dim lights, loud music and smoky atmosphere of the bar. Of course, her work clothes didn’t help any. At least with his jeans, boots and T-shirt, Martin fit right in. All he needed was a cowboy hat over that nice blond hair.

      “Do you like country music?”

      “I can take it or leave it.” Truthfully, she never listened to it—not always an easy feat to accomplish living in Dallas.

      “What do you like?”

      “A little rock, a little classical. The blues.”

      “B. B. King, John Lee Hooker, Buddy Guy? ‘Stormy Monday’?”

      “I love that song.” He grinned, and she found herself smiling back. “Maybe you’re from the South.”

      “Because I like the blues?”

      “Because when I came out of the office, you said ‘hey’ instead of ‘hi.’ Isn’t that a Southern thing?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t have a Southern accent.”

      “As far as I can tell, you don’t have any accent at all. Maybe you just lived there.”

      Another shrug. “You have an accent. You sound Texan—lazy and sultry and—”

      The waitress, dressed in a short little flirty denim skirt, a snug red cowboy shirt and red cowboy boots, interrupted with “What’ll you have?”

      More of what he was saying, Juliet thought, both dreamy over his comment and disappointed that it’d been cut short. Sultry. No one had ever called her anything even remotely close.

      She ordered pop, and so did Martin, and she followed his lead in ordering dinner: burger with cheese and spicy fries. When the waitress brought their drinks a moment later, Juliet scanned the room. Martin seemed to be the only man in the place without a long-necked beer clutched in one hand. Not that he needed beer to prove his masculinity. He could walk to the bar and order a glass of warm milk, and no one would have the nerve to say a word about it. “Do you drink?”

      “Occasionally, but I have to be careful not to overdo. It’s too big a risk for me.”

      “Do you think that, or do you know it?”

      “I know it.” He didn’t offer an explanation of how he knew, just a grim, almost bleak look and the slow, unconscious stroking of his fingers over the scar on his left arm. Souvenir of a drunken barroom brawl? Maybe he’d been an alcoholic in his previous life, or someone else important in that life had had a drinking problem.

      “What did you do this afternoon?” she asked, seeking any mundane topic of conversation that could chase away the sorrow in his eyes.

      “I’m doing a little work at one of the churches—some stripping, painting, minor remodeling.”

      “I thought you weren’t a carpenter.”

      “I’m not, but I’m cheap, and the church doesn’t have much money. I just follow the pastor’s directions, and he prays for the best.”

      “Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

      The music went quiet as, across the room, a young man bent over a guitar and tuned the instrument. There were others on the bandstand with him, kids who looked too young to drink where they played. After a few minutes fiddling with the instruments, the band was ready. Without ado, the young man stepped up to the microphone and eased into the first song.

      “The bands around here are usually kids from the college,” Martin said. “Some of them are pretty good.”

      Grand Springs College was a small school that co-owned the library with the city. They provided Juliet with Internet access both on and off the job and had tempted her with the possibility of earning a graduate degree someday. At least it would be something to fill her evenings.

      Even if she preferred filling them this way.

      “Do you like to dance?”

      There were only a few couples on the dance floor, couples much better acquainted with each other than she and Martin. They must be, to get so close, to move so intimately. Her cheeks turning pink, she looked back at him. “Actually, I don’t know how.”

      “What do you mean you don’t know how? Didn’t you go to your high school dances?”

      “I was on the decorating committee for both the homecoming dance and the prom, but no, I didn’t go.”

      “Why not?”

      The pink in her face turned red. “No one asked me, and frankly, if anyone had, I would have turned him down.”

      “Were you too shy to date?”

      She nodded, though “too shy to get anyone’s attention” was more like it.

      “I think I probably liked shy girls.”

      Although she was convinced he was wrong—he’d probably been the captain of the football team, and he’d probably dated the pretty, perky, every-boy’s-dream head cheerleader—she humored him. “Why do you think that?”

      “Because there’s something damned appealing about the women they become.”

      Her flush turned to heat—lazy, indolent, seeping into every pore, warming her blood, threatening to steam. If she could swallow, she would. If she could pick up her pop for a cooling drink without making the glass sizzle, she would. If she could come up with something smart or provocative or witty to offer in response… Smart she knew-provocative and witty she didn’t—and smart said don’t make assumptions. Don’t fall for a line. Keep it business.

      She was seeking something perfectly businesslike to say when he spoke again. “I can teach you to dance.”

      Her gaze shot to the couples on the floor, each holding the other so close that there wasn’t room for a breath between them. She’d never been that close to a man in her life unless they were both naked and doing something wild. To get that close—even fully dressed and in public—to Martin required more courage and grace than she’d ever possessed. “I couldn’t.”

      “Of course you could.” He rose from the table, took her hand and pulled her to the edge of the dance floor. “Put your arms around my neck and come closer…closer…. Relax…just let me move and you follow. It’s as easy as sex—”

      God was in heaven, and he took pity on her. The song ended, and the band moved without pause into the next, a rousing tune that required more dexterity than her feet were СКАЧАТЬ