"If I were going to put a price tag on my lady parts, I'd find a more appetizing buyer."
Ted liked that, and he was still grinning when they pulled up to the church. She opened the passenger door to get out. He slipped his arm over the back of her seat and gave her a look she couldn't quite fathom. "I assume I'm invited in," he said. "Considering the intensity of your feelings for me?"
He had her in his high beams, those amber eyes delivering his personal elixir of rapt attention, perfect understanding, deep appreciation, and forgiveness for all her sins.
He was totally messing with her.
She pulled a tragic sigh. "I need to get past your otherworldly perfection before I can begin to think about exposing you to my lusty side."
"How lusty?"
"Off the charts." She slid out of the car. "Good night, Theodore. Sweet dreams."
She climbed the stairs to the church doors with the glare from his headlights lighting her way. When she reached the top, she slipped the key in the lock and let herself inside. The church enfolded her. Dark, empty, lonely.
,
She spent the next day on the drink cart without getting fired, something she regarded as a major accomplishment, since she hadn't been able to resist reminding a few of the golfers to dump their freaking beverage cans in the recycling containers instead of the trash bins. Bruce Garvin, the father of Birdie's friend Kayla, was particularly hostile, and Meg suspected she had Spencer Skipjack's interest in her to thank for her continued employment. She was also deeply grateful that news of her fake declaration of love for Ted didn't seem to have spread. Apparently last night's witnesses had decided to keep quiet, a miracle in a small town.
She greeted Birdie's daughter, Haley, when she went into the snack shop to get fresh ice and replenish the beverages in the cart. Haley had either taken in the seams on her employee's polo shirt or traded with someone smaller because the outline of her breasts was on full display. "Mr. Collins is playing today," she said, "and he's big on Gatorade, so make sure you have plenty."
"Thanks for the tip." Meg pointed toward the candy bar display. "Mind if I take some of these? I'll toss them on top of the ice and see if they sell."
"Good idea. And if you run into Ted, would you tell him I need to talk to him?"
Meg sincerely hoped she didn't run into him.
"He's turned off his cell," Haley said, "and I'm supposed to do his grocery shopping today."
"You do his grocery shopping?"
"I run errands for him. Mail packages. Do things he doesn't have time for himself." She lifted some hot dogs out of the steamer. "I think I told you I'm his personal assistant."
"That's right. You did." Meg concealed her amusement. She'd grown up around personal assistants, and they did a lot more than run errands.
When she got home that evening, she opened the windows, glad the need for secrecy was gone, then took a quick swim in the creek. Afterward, she sat cross-legged on the floor and examined some unclaimed costume jewelry she'd gotten permission to take from the club's lost-and-found box. She liked working with jewelry, and the glimmer of an idea had been poking at her for the last few days. She retrieved a pair of ancient long-nosed pliers she'd found in a kitchen drawer and began taking apart an inexpensive charm bracelet.
A car pulled up outside, and a few moments later, Ted wandered in looking sloppy and gorgeous in navy slacks and a wrinkled gray sport shirt.
"Ever hear of knocking?" she said.
"Ever hear of trespassing?"
His open shirt collar revealed the suntanned hollow at the base of his throat. She stared at it for a moment too long, then jabbed at the jump ring attached to the bracelet's clasp. "I got a text message from Lucy today."
"I don't care." He moved deeper into the room, bringing with him the nauseating scent of undiluted goodness.
"She still won't tell me what she's doing or exactly where she is." The pliers slipped. She winced as she pinched her finger. "All she'll say is that no terrorists have captured her and I shouldn't worry."
"Repeat. Don't care."
She sucked her finger. "Yes, you do, although not in the way most abandoned bridegrooms would care. Your pride's injured, but your heart doesn't even seem bruised, let alone broken."
"You don't know anything about my heart."
The need to be disagreeable wouldn't let go, and as she once again dragged her eyes away from that odious open shirt collar, she recalled a tidbit she'd picked up from Haley. "Don't you think it's a little embarrassing for a man your age to still live with his parents?"