Read Online Get Lucky by Lorie O'Clare - Free Book Online

friend.”
    “I’m not sure we’re friends, and trust me, I always do.” Marc gave him an easy smile and moved so he blocked the break room door until the burly guy strode off. Then turning, Marc rapped on the door with the back of his hand. London didn’t answer, so he pushed it open. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.
    Meryl appeared next to him when he stepped into the break room. London looked up at both of them, her gaze almost frantic when she shoved a flat package full of papers into her coat.
    “Seriously, girl, what happened out there?” There was concern in Meryl’s voice.
    “I’m fine. And nothing,” London snapped. “Please, both of you. Leave me alone.”
    Marc backed out, closing the employees’ break room door behind him. Meryl faced him in the hallway, giving him an appraising look.
    “Are you two going out?” She was cute, in an Orphan Annie sort of way, but it was the natural glow in her eyes, something Marc had learned to pick up on in his line of work and assessing people, that showed him Meryl was probably a concerned friend.
    “I wouldn’t say that exactly.” He and London hadn’t been on a date, and other than when he’d kissed her senseless, they hadn’t had much alone time at all. “We haven’t even known each other a week,” he offered, but guessed Meryl would know that. “I think that guy pissed her off, though, and I should have been more attentive on the tour. I could have gotten rid of him for her.”
    “I’m sure you could have.” Meryl’s gaze swept up and down him as she rocked up on her feet, giving him an easy smile. “I think she’s more upset about that package she got.”
    If he admitted not knowing about the package, Meryl might not tell him anything else about it. “Why do you think that?” he asked.

    “I think it’s from her family. And with London, I don’t know, it’s like she didn’t exist before three years ago. Try and ask her about her family, or her past. She’s a pro at not answering.”
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    London couldn’t believe she was doing this. Standing at the end of her dining-room table, she surveyed her work. The white tablecloth, flowers in the middle of the table, her best china and silverware. She had to admit it looked damn good. Why was she going all out like this just because she’d been tricked into having Marc over for dinner?
    Maybe not exactly tricked. She returned to her kitchen, running her hands down her apron and making sure nothing had splattered onto her dress before returning to her stove. The roast was done. Potatoes stood in the pot on the back of the stove waiting to be scooped onto the platter. Rolls were in their basket with a cloth over them. She stirred the gravy. If he hadn’t asked her out for Friday night, she wouldn’t be going through all this work.
    When he did ask her out she had to give him her spiel about not dating guests. He offered to take her to another town. She’d hesitated. Marc pointed out if he just came by to her house, it really wouldn’t be a date. That had been Wednesday.
    Between then and now she’d learned what his favorite dish was. Of course he’d be a meat-and-potatoes man. Then she’d started plotting the evening. Now she stood in one of her nicest dresses, with the best table setting she owned set out on her table that up until this morning she’d used to stack anything she didn’t want to put away or didn’t know where to put.
    “The wine,” she told herself, remembering it was supposed to breathe for an hour.
    When she started her menu of pot roast and potatoes it didn’t seem that it would be all that much work. Then she told herself Marc coming over was just a good excuse to do some deep cleaning of her house that she hadn’t gotten around to, since she wasn’t ever here. He might not have even noticed she took off a few hours early in order to make sure everything was in order when he came over at eight. Marc had signed up for another of the