The Eligible Suspect(18)

                Savanna made jewelry along with her pottery. And that wasn’t all. Along the far wall, windows ran above a long counter, a sink with a farmhouse faucet and a stove on one end, trays of cooled candles on the other with some work space in between. The cabinets below were left open and the shelves were filled with pots, wax and wicks, oil-based dyes, scents and a variety of jars and bases. A closer look revealed materials to make soap as well.

                He turned to go back to the living room and saw Savanna standing at the entrance, long dark red hair in a ponytail and those amazing eyes fringed by thick lashes. Her plump lips and petite, sloping nose made her all the more of a man magnet. She seemed uncertain as to how she felt about him invading her personal space. It sort of dimmed his sparking attraction.

                “You have quite a few hobbies,” he said, covering his fascination.

                She looked at him a moment longer. “Dinner is ready.”

                He followed her back to the kitchen, where she’d set up sturdy paper plates on the kitchen island. She’d already dished out pork chops with sautéed fruit, red onions and banana peppers on top and some kind of salad.

                Savanna opened the microwave and brought over a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes. He didn’t care if they were out of a box.

                He looked up at her and smiled his thanks.

                She smiled back. “I wasn’t expecting company, least of all a hungry man.”

                “I wasn’t expecting to be company.” But here was as good of a place to hide as any.

                While he piled potatoes onto his plate, she put a glass of water in front of him and sat next to him, putting down a bottle of sparkling water. She began slicing her pork chop and ate daintily and slowly, frequently glancing over at him and occasionally taking a swig from her bottle of water. Most people who drank that stuff put it in a glass. She drank it like a beer. He almost chuckled.

                “You like living alone, don’t you?” He said it more like an observation.

                She put her water down and smiled. “What gave me away?”

                “You seem—” he glanced down at the bottle of water “—set in your ways. In a good way.” Was he digging himself a hole here?

                “Well, when you make it to my age without getting married, it’s bound to happen.”

                Unable to stop himself, he said, “I find it very hard to believe you’ve never been married.”

                She put her fork down. “Well, I haven’t.”

                He watched her drink some more water, uncomfortable with him, not trusting in the least. “Why not?” Someone as beautiful as her wouldn’t stay single long. Or was her remote address an issue?

                Setting her water down, she looked at him. “It didn’t work out.”

                “So there was someone serious?”

                Instead of answering, she picked up her plate and took it to the sink.

                Korbin followed. The more evasive she was the more her mystery made him think of more questions. He put his glass down on the counter and his paper plate on top of hers while she made washing forks and knives take longer than necessary.

                “Why did you quit motivational speaking?” Did her relationship that didn’t work out have something to do with it?