to get out more, and when I do, you complain!”
What else, she wondered, could she tell her grandmother anyway? That she went on an exciting spy hunt with a sexy man, who drew her to him as helplessly as iron to a magnet, was told she was terrific and wonderful … and then was dropped on the doorstep at one in the morning without a word since? She knew she shouldn’t even be thinking these things herself. Her perverse mind and body needed no reminders at all where Joe Carlini was concerned.
“Well, you’re moping around worse than before,” Lettice snapped. “So don’t tell me a tale about a casual date, young lady. Every time that phone rings, you jump and rush to answer it first.”
Ellen reminded herself that she needed to explain nothing. There was nothing to explain. One time they had both agreed. And one time it had been. Whatever was happening now with Mario wasn’t her business.
If it wasn’t Joe himself wreaking havoc with her peace, then it was Joe’s problems. She wondered for the hundredth time what was happening with Mario and the sauce. Had Uncle Thomas been saved from betrayal and embarrassment? She hoped so. He was such a sweet man. But what about the others Joe had mentioned? Had Mario gone after them too? And if he hadn’t, what was he trying now? The questions had been racingaround in her head for days. She had even looked up the phone number for Carlini Foods and was irritated with herself for doing so.
Damn the man, she thought, unconsciously clenching her fists. He had disrupted her peace and quiet with a vengeance. He had made her forget things she never should be forgetting. Because of him, she had been having fun when she had really only wanted …
“Well?” Lettice prompted.
Ellen jumped up from the table. She couldn’t stand the questions from her grandmother combined with the questions in her own head any longer.
“Okay, okay. I’ll confess,” she exclaimed. “I was involved with Joe to stop a dastardly plot to steal a secret formula from his company. That’s the only reason I went to Atlantic City with him! Now that’s the real truth, Grandmother. I promise not to mope around the house and rush to answer the phone. Are you happy?”
Lettice arched her eyebrows in clear disbelief. “I suppose you’ll try to sell me Grant’s tomb next.”
“It would be a whole lot easier,” Ellen muttered, turning away from the table and the continuing argument.
Her grandmother called after her. Ellen ignored her. Blindly, she walked into the library … and immediately walked back out. She swerved toward the stairs, intending to go up to her room. Then she went toward the dining room again. She realized what she was doing, and stopped in the middle of the hall.
It was over with Joe, she told herself. Done.Finished. She had been whatever help she had been, and that was that. So what if he hadn’t tried to kiss her when he brought her home? Why would she want him to? She didn’t, of course. She couldn’t. And she had told him so. She knew she wasn’t ready yet for a relationship, and she doubted if she ever would be—certainly not with someone as exciting and gentle and determined and sexy as Joe Carlini.
And if she was a little curious about what might be happening with the sauce, well, that was only human nature. Her peace and quiet had been … stirred up a little, that was all. Everything was now back to normal, just as she needed it, and she ought to be grateful to Joe for accepting that.
The telephone rang.
Ellen jumped for it without thinking. Before the first ring had even stopped, she yanked the receiver out of its cradle and brought it to her ear.
“Hello?” she said breathlessly, her heart beating frantically with anticipation.
“Lettice?”
Ellen swallowed back a huge wave of disappointment. “One moment please.”
She put her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to call her grandmother to the telephone. Lettice was already there, eyebrows raised.
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