Page 23 of If We Never Met

"No, I'm fine. I'm just going to read this afternoon. I have a new novel I'm itching to start."

"That's good. Have you heard from Mr. Langley again?"

Her mother smiled. "I told you to call him Mark. And, yes, he texted me earlier. He asked me to go to dinner at the Lakeshore Bistro tonight."

"And you agreed." She didn't even bother to make it a question.

"Of course. I love the Lakeshore Bistro. And you're busy tonight, anyway."

"What time are you going?"

"Six. I'll be home by eight. You really don't have to worry, Keira."

She didn't have to, but she still would. However, she couldn't skip the party, nor could she talk her mother out of going to dinner, not without some solid ammunition. Right now, all she had was a lot of speculation.

"Is that handsome man going to be at the party?" her mother asked.

She'd been trying not to think about Dante, but her mom's question put his very attractive face back in her head. "Lizzie invited everyone at the inn, so there's a chance he'll be there. But I told you, he has a girlfriend."

"When I first met your dad, he had a girlfriend. Until someone is married, anything can happen."

"Not if I don't let it. Besides the fact that he's involved with someone, he's just passing through, Mom. A few weeks, and he'll be gone."

Her mom sighed. "That's too bad."

She couldn't agree more. She also couldn't help but hope he'd show up at the party.

Dante tried to read. He'd picked up a book downstairs from Lizzie's extensive library, but it didn't hold his attention. Putting it down, he picked up the remote and turned the TV on, surprised and happy when it worked. He'd seen Lizzie running frantically around the inn with two guys from the cable company, panicked that the cable wouldn't be back before her party, but it was fixed with an hour to spare. He flipped through the channels, not really interested in anything. He didn't feel like starting a movie, and he was staying away from sports, especially baseball games.

It sometimes killed him not to know what was happening with his team, but he thought it would frustrate him even more if he did know. If they were doing great without him, he'd be happy, but it would make him wonder how valuable he really was. If they were bombing, he'd want to get back so he could help his team. Keeping that information out of his head seemed like the best idea.

He turned off the TV, got off the bed, and walked to the window. His room overlooked the patio, and he could see several guests sitting at a table, sipping cocktails. He recognized two of the older women as being guests at the inn, but the two other younger couples he didn't know. Probably Lizzie's friends.

He still didn't know what to do about the party. He had nothing else going on, and he was hungry. He also wouldn't mind having a drink. But he'd have to talk to people, some of whom might recognize him and ask him questions he didn't want to answer. Of course, none of that concerned him as much as seeing Keira again.

They'd agreed to be friends, which was the best decision for a lot of reasons. Unfortunately, the idea of just being her friend wasn't appealing. He was attracted to her. He'd felt it since the first second she'd sat down at his table, and he felt it even more now that he'd gotten to know her. She was outgoing and friendly and had a dry, self-deprecating sense of humor. She didn't seem to take herself too seriously, and he liked that. He also liked how protective she was of her mom.

He wondered if she'd discovered anything new when she'd met with Langley yesterday. The guy seemed nice enough. He'd passed him in the hall earlier and exchanged greetings. They were the only two rooms on the third floor, so he had a feeling they'd be seeing each other a lot.

Turning away from the window, he knew he had two options. He could go into town and find a restaurant and eat alone, or he could join the crowd downstairs. One good thing about staying in was the opportunity to avoid the press. He hadn't seen anyone since Friday night, so it was possible they didn't know where he was staying yet. He had used a credit card attached to a corporation, so his name wasn't on the register, but this was a small town. He doubted his anonymity would last long. Maybe he'd at least check out the party, get the vibe. If it was uncomfortable, he could always leave.

He grabbed his keycard and phone, slipped them into the pocket of his jeans and headed downstairs. The laughter and chatter hit him as soon as he reached the foyer. When he walked into the living room, he saw that Lizzie had rearranged the room so that all the couches and chairs faced a large-screen TV. The bar in the corner was quite busy with Lizzie's fiancé, Justin Blackwood, pouring margaritas. In the adjacent dining room, two long tables had been set for a buffet while another six round tables were covered with linen cloths with flower centerpieces.

There were probably two dozen people mingling between the rooms, but while a few he recognized as being guests at the inn, he didn't see Mark Langley. Nor did he see Keira.

He headed to the bar. When he reached the front of the line, Justin gave him a smile.

"Margarita, wine, beer? What's your pleasure?" Justin asked.

"I'll take a margarita. It looks like that's the drink of the day."

"It is, and I make a good one. Don't tell Lizzie how strong they are," Justin added with a laugh.

Justin was a tall, good-looking guy with a dark-blue gaze that sparkled with amusement. From what Lizzie had told him about her fiancé, he knew Justin ran a huge company, specializing in robotics. Apparently, after falling in love with Lizzie, he'd decided to set up a field office in town so that Lizzie could continue managing her inn. The sacrifice was impressive. He didn't know a lot of guys who would move for a woman, although he certainly knew a lot of women who had moved to follow their men all over the country, from the minor leagues to the majors, and city to city.

Justin handed him a margarita. "Let me know what you think."

He got a strong taste of tequila. "Very good. I like your pour."

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