Whispers and Lies. Diane Pershing

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СКАЧАТЬ now here she was, out to dinner with Will Jamison. In public. Because he had insisted. Despite her setting all kinds of barriers in place, he’d pushed through and insisted.

      And again she had to wonder why, even as she cursed her suspicious mind. But really, Will Jamison, attracted to her? It was the word he had used—attracted. But she was so definitely not his type, which tended toward tall, blond and sophisticated; Nancy occasionally ran pictures in the Courier of Will at various D.C. functions, and that was the type of woman always on his arm. Lou was none of those adjectives.

      Oh, sure, she knew she wasn’t unappealing and had a somewhat offbeat charm. She was reputed to be “fun.” And yes, there had been men attracted to her over the years—she’d even married one. But she was under no illusions about herself. Lou was ordinary. And she simply did not belong in the same equation with Will Jamison.

      Then why had he insisted on taking her out? Was she some kind of charity case? Oh, no. Had Nancy told her brother how sad Lou had been since Mom had died, and had he decided to give the little lady a thrill? Or maybe he was doing a piece on animal rescuers or female veterinarians and wanted her to help him?

      Or maybe he really was attracted to her, and she was allowing painful ghosts to infect her mind and run her life for her. Wow, what a concept.

      When the waiter, one of Lady Jamaica’s several tall, ebony-skinned sons, appeared at their table, Lou ordered a vodka martini. After Will had ordered a beer, he said, “A martini, huh? Pretty fancy for a ribs-and-corn dinner.”

      “It’s a tradition,” she told him. “One a night, and never more than one. It started with Mom about ten years ago. Our own little cocktail hour, a kind of letting-down time after a stressful day. And I’ve kept it up.”

      “Traditions are good things,” he said, nodding.

      “Unless they’re stupid things.”

      “Agreed. Like fraternity hazings.”

      “And shooting guns in the air on the Fourth of July.”

      “Although fireworks on the same day are good things.”

      “Agreed.”

      As they grinned at each other, Lou felt herself relaxing, just a bit, and was grateful for the respite. When the drinks arrived, Will raised his glass. “Let’s make a toast.”

      “To what?”

      “Good traditions and old friends.”

      She clinked his glass with hers, but her brief feeling of lightheartedness lessened. He was still playing that “old friends” tune. She could curse her suspicious mind all she wanted, but something in his attitude felt off somehow.

      She took a sip of her drink and let it warm her blood. Okay, enough. She was a grown-up now, she told herself, not a foolish schoolgirl, and could handle all kinds of situations, including dinner with Will Jamison. And so they fell into chatting about Nancy’s upcoming marriage to her childhood sweetheart, Bob Weiss. How the town had changed, what had happened to people they both knew. Will was easy to be with, Lou thought. He listened, seemed to be deeply interested in whatever she said.

      And, of course, there was that mesmerizing face of his. Eyes that were jade green under heavyish brows and lids, and eyelashes thicker than was fair; a long, thin nose, generous mouth, and just the slightest indentation in the middle of a square, rugged chin. She watched his expression change with each new topic—surprise, amusement, a hint of sadness when he learned of the high school principal’s death, all of it registered on his striking features…and made her stupid heart thump just a little harder.

      When their meals came—two huge plates of ribs, corn, coleslaw, beans and garlic bread, hot and spicy and mouthwateringly delicious—Lou was grateful to have something else to concentrate on other than Will Jamison. While he dug in eagerly, she took a bite of one of the ribs and chewed slowly, hoping she’d be able to eat a decent amount tonight.

      After Will had inhaled about half his dinner, he put down his fork. A time-out was called for, he decided. He wiped his mouth, finished off his beer and was wondering how to introduce the topic of Lincoln DeWitt when Lou took care of it.

      “Tell me about your life as a reporter.” Resting her elbow on the table, she cupped her chin in her hand and gazed at him. “Working on anything special lately?”

      “Well, yeah. I’m planning a series for the New York Times about the black sheep of prominent families.”

      “Ooh, lots of scandals. Sounds like fun.”

      “It is. I’m doing the first one on Lincoln DeWitt.” He tossed the name off casually and watched her face for a reaction.

      She shrugged. “Never heard of him, sorry.”

      “Really?” When she shook her head no, Will said, “He’s Jackson DeWitt’s brother. The senator from Florida?”

      “Now that name rings a bell.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, I don’t much follow politics. I find it too depressing.”

      “It is that, but the backroom maneuvering is pretty fascinating.”

      She picked up a French fry, dipped it in ketchup and bit into it. That was when Will noticed that Lou’s plate was nearly full. Before he could comment on it, she said, “So, tell me, what’s this Lincoln DeWitt like?”

      “He’s got the morals of an alley cat,” he said with a smile. “The man has a huge ego, drinks way too much and, to tell you the truth, I kind of like him. You can’t help it. He’s so up front about what a bad boy he is.”

      “Does he know you’re writing the article?”

      “Are you kidding? He’s cooperating, one hundred percent. The man loves the limelight.”

      Lou offered a mirthless laugh. “Everyone wants to be famous. Not me, thanks. Give me a small, settled life, and I’m a happy camper.”

      “Good for you. Better that way.”

      So, she really didn’t know, Will realized. Had not an inkling, he was sure of it.

      When she took a small bite of her corn and then set it down, again his attention was brought back to the fact that she’d hardly eaten a thing, and he felt concern for her, more concern than was his business.

      Not for the first time, he wished he didn’t have two agendas for being here with Lou tonight, the personal and the professional. As a reporter, the two were often linked, and tonight was no exception.

      And although he didn’t believe in coincidence, that was exactly what had happened back in D.C. this past Tuesday night that had led to this meeting….

      The DuPont Circle neighborhood bar hadn’t been very crowded as, somewhat early for his appointment with Lincoln DeWitt, Will had been catching up on a back issue of the Susanville Courier. His little sister, the paper’s managing editor, always faithfully sent them to him.

      He was glancing at the obituaries when a slap on the back told him the man himself had arrived. Lincoln slid onto the stool next to him, saying, “Hey, Will, heard this one? Old geezer is having bed trouble with his СКАЧАТЬ