wanted to change the subject. I was fine with the subject.”
“Don’t start with me,” she warned.
“I’m not,” he said. “Try to relax.” He reached out, pausing as she flinched, and touched her forehead with the tip of his finger, massaging the anxious crease between her brows as if trying to erase it.
“Oh, that. That’s always there. That’s just part of my face,” she said with a shaky laugh. His boldness made her feel…naked.
Weird. She hadn’t known there was a good side to that feeling.
“So, Liam,” she said briskly. “Tell me about yourself. Lucia told you all about me, and that puts me at a disadvantage.”
His smile vanished. She felt a flash of regret for killing the moment. She hardened herself. She had to be tough, and careful.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Whatever is relevant. You’re not married, engaged, or seriously involved. Lucia wouldn’t have thrown me at your head if you were.”
“True enough,” he agreed.
“So what’s wrong with you?” she demanded.
“What do you mean?” He looked mildly curious, not annoyed.
Nancy shrugged. “You’d think a guy like you would’ve been taken by now. You must be, what, thirty-seven? Thirty-eight?”
“Thirty-seven,” he said.
“Thirty-seven,” she repeated, in a wondering tone. “How have you escaped the noose for so long?”
“I don’t see it as a noose. But I haven’t met the ideal woman yet.”
Her cell phone rang as the waitress arrived with their food. The manager of the venue in Indianapolis where Peter was performing in three weeks, calling to postpone the date. Nancy made a note and promised to get back to him as soon as she had checked the artist’s availability. She hung up and gave Liam a thin smile. “So, back to this ideal woman of yours. What’s she like?”
“You really want to know?”
“Hell, yes,” she assured him. “I’m fascinated. I’m all agog.”
Liam swallowed a mouthful of omelet and washed it down with tea. “Okay,” he said. “My ideal woman is a great cook. She likes to bake bread. She wants lots of children. Would consider being a stay-at-home mom. She’s relaxed. Likes flowers. Loves to hike and garden.”
Nancy’s heart sank. Cut it out, loser. She had no designs on the guy, so why should it matter if she was the opposite of his ideal woman? She couldn’t tell a pumpkin from a hollyhock. Lots of children? What a concept. Although she hadn’t completely given up hopes of maybe at least one, someday. And cooking? Bread? Hah.
Liam went relentlessly on. “She puts home and family first. She’s content with simplicity. She’s sincere, and genuine.”
Nancy tried for a breezy tone. “I get her vibe. Earth mother. Dips her own candles. Makes her own soap. Carves her own toothpicks.”
His lips twitched. “Uh, that’s the general idea, I guess.”
She forced out a brittle laugh. “Well, good luck. I didn’t know they were even still making that brand of female. I bet you’d have more luck shopping for used and vintage models.” Her cell rang again. A presenter of a concert series in Portland, Oregon, wanted Mandrake’s promo packet. She took down his data in her organizer.
“You know, that thing has an off button,” Liam informed her.
Nancy gazed at him blankly. “What’s your point?”
He sighed. “Never mind. You haven’t touched your sandwich.”
Nancy looked down at her turkey club. “I’m not really hungry.”
Liam examined her face with a frown. “Try to calm down a little,” he said. “See if you can get down at least half of your sandwich.”
“I don’t want to argue about my sandwich. I want to know more about this ideal—”
“You’re not going to find out a damn thing worth knowing if you come at me with that attitude.”
She set down her coffee, taken aback. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended. I’m pissed off. There’s a difference.”
She stared down into the puddle of coffee
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