Covering Kendall(2)

There was a book signing in ten minutes by a guy who’d written a book about Carl Sagan. Her dad loved astronomy. He’d shown her VCR tapes of Carl Sagan’s show as a kid too. Maybe the author would sign one of his books for her dad. Kendall glanced over at a grand total of one guy sitting in the four rows of chairs set up for the event. She could spend a few minutes listening to the author’s comments. She’d buy a book or two and make a dash for the hotel again.



DREW GLANCED UP as a tall, curvy woman in dress clothes sat down a few chairs away from him. She shoved the hood of her jacket off, and it was all he could do not to stare. Her black hair was cut in a shiny cap around her face. Her skin was palest alabaster, dewy with what must have been rainwater, and her mouth was the shade of juicy summertime cherries. When she glanced over at him and smiled, he noted her eyes were dark gray. Those yes roamed over his face. She rested her handbag on the chair between them.

The bookstore employee hurried away for some reason, and they were left alone. She clasped her hands in her lap while she waited. He quickly checked for rings: She didn’t wear one. He was getting a bit warm, but if he took off his jacket and the knit hat he wore, every football fan in the building would recognize him. He also wanted to speak to the woman two seats away from him.

She smelled like green apples—fresh, delicious, and tempting. He cleared his throat, and she glanced up at him.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi.” She treated him to another smile.

“The author must be a little late this evening.” Normally, he’d think of something witty and memorable to say to a woman he’d just met. Right now, it was all he could do to remember the English language, let alone string sufficient words together to form a sentence.

“Maybe he’s caught in traffic. It’s awful out there,” she said.

“Yes, it is,” he said. There were a hundred things he’d like to say to her right now, but he went for the safest. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Drew,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Kendall.” He clasped her smaller hand in his. Her skin was cool and dry. She wore red nail polish, and he hated letting go of her. “Nice to meet you as well, Drew.”

“Do you live in Bellevue?”

“Actually, I don’t. I’m here on business this week. I live in Santa Clara, which is just outside of San Francisco.”

“Sounds like a great place to live.”

“Yes, it is.” He saw her lips curve into a smile again, and the flash of perfect teeth. Her eyes sparkled. “I’m guessing you live here.”

“My house is a couple of miles away.”

She glanced over at him again. “Hopefully, you didn’t walk to the store.”

He chuckled a little. “It sounded like a great idea at the time.” He nodded at the dampness of her coat. “I’m guessing you did too.” He slipped his arm around the back of the chair between them while slouching to stretch his legs out a little. She didn’t move away. This was a very good sign.

Silence fell. He sifted through the hundred things he’d like to ask her about. A woman that looked like her had heard a line from every guy she came into contact with, so he’d have to come up with something original and appealing. She glanced around the store and gave him another smile. Unless he was really wrong, she wanted to keep talking.

“It looks like we’re the only Sagan fans in the bookstore tonight,” he said.

To his surprise and delight, she made accompanying arm gestures as she imitated Sagan’s trademark line: “Billions and billions . . .”

“Did you watch the show, or did you watch Saturday Night Live reruns?”

“A little of both,” she admitted. “My dad was really into it.”

The bookstore employee raced out of one of the aisles and hurried over to the author’s table. She glanced at the empty chairs surrounding Drew and Kendall and grabbed one of the boxes she’d been unpacking books out of less than ten minutes ago.

“I’m so sorry,” she told them. “The author just called. His flight has been on a ground hold in San Francisco due to high winds, and it’s just been cancelled. He won’t be able to be here tonight. He is very sorry.”

Kendall gave her a polite nod and picked up her handbag. Drew leaned forward in his chair. “I’d like to buy a copy of his book anyhow.”

“Of course,” the employee said, handing him one of the books.

“I’ll take one too,” Kendall said. Her dad would enjoy it, autographed or not.

Drew turned to face her.