Page 9

Five years before Derrick Bell’s murder

They were silent on the drive to Rick’s. He continued to hold her hand, and they exchanged frequent glances and grins. The silence was comfortable, not stifling. She relaxed into the vehicle’s leather seat as his thumb rubbed the back of her hand.

What am I doing here?

She didn’t care. They had connected on a heady level in that crowded penthouse, and she didn’t want to break that connection. The newness and potential still floating between them.

Inside Rick’s, he sat across from her in a vinyl booth. The lights were too bright, but they didn’t overpower her attraction. They showed her more of him. The tiny scar that crossed a smile line. The small mole near an eye.

His gaze roamed over her in the same way, letting her know he liked what he saw. He set his arm on the table and opened his hand, a silent request. She placed hers in it, slightly embarrassed to realize she’d missed the touch of his skin in the minutes since they’d left his car.

We just met.

“I don’t know your name,” she blurted.

One brow rose. “No?”

“No. You always paid in cash. No card.”

“I know yours.”

“I wore a name tag. Not fair.” She frowned as something occurred to her. “Did Rex tell you he wanted to introduce us?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She wondered whom Rex had had in mind and then decided that she didn’t care.

“I asked him to introduce us.” He smiled, and her gaze locked on that small scar. “He failed, so I had to make it happen myself.”

Small shivers went up her spine. She was flattered.

“What kind of pie do you want?” he asked, even though they hadn’t looked at the menus the waitress had set on the table.

“Coconut.” She didn’t need a menu.

“That was my first choice. So peach for me.”

“That was my second choice,” she said wryly. “I’ll share if you will.”

“Of course.”

The waitress reappeared and then sped off after he gave their orders.

Noelle paused, not used to someone ordering for her.

I did tell him what I wanted.

Clearly he operated in a different world than hers.

His car, his clothes, his watch. He’d probably been taught it was a courtesy to order for his date.

A little old-fashioned in her eyes, but no doubt he meant it as a sign of respect.

He’d opened the diner door for her, and she hadn’t let it bother her.

She set the thoughts aside. “You said Rex was a family friend. You grew up around here?”

Their conversation took off. She learned they’d attended rival high schools, and although he was three years her senior, they’d attended some of the same memorable football games.

They liked some of the same fiction authors, but his taste extended to military memoirs while she read every book on psychology.

He loved tennis; she loved running and yoga.

Neither of them had seen the northern lights and both had it on their bucket list. His travel background was extensive; she’d never left the country.

A bachelorette party weekend in Mexico didn’t count.

He had an older sister and an older brother.

His grandparents had all passed, and both parents were still living.

She told him that her mother had died when she was thirteen and that she lived with her grandfather and great-aunt.

And she told him about her felon of a father.

She never told anyone that.

There was a small lull in the conversation as the waitress returned with their pie and two cups of coffee.

Each eyed the other’s plate, causing another round of grins.

He’d requested his peach pie slightly warmed and with a scoop of vanilla ice cream—just the way Noelle would have ordered it.

She plunged her fork into her creamy coconut goodness and took a big bite.

Heaven.

He paused with a forkful of peach halfway to his mouth, his admiring gaze locked on her. “You look like you’ve tasted the best thing in the world.”

“Maybe I have.” She took another bite.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, offering each other bites. Noelle laid down her fork and sipped her coffee, studying him over the rim. “Now tell me your name.”

“And destroy the mystery?”

“There will be other things to discover.”

His gaze heated. “Derrick.”

“Derrick what?”

“Bell.”

“Nice to meet you, Derrick Bell.” His name was slightly familiar—she’d probably heard it in the bar at some point. The one topic they hadn’t touched on was their jobs. Again, he knew all about hers while she knew nothing of his. “In my head I called you Mr. Stoli.”

“I would have answered to that.” One side of his mouth curled up. “I would have answered to anything.”

That smile.

“Do you have a wife or girlfriend, Mr. Stoli?”

“No. You?”

“No.” Tell him. “I do have an ex-husband from a two-month marriage when I was eighteen.” She held her breath.

“Kids?” he asked, moving on in the conversation.

“No, thank goodness. I wasn’t that insane.”

“Mistakes happen.”

“Yes.” Relief flowed over her that he didn’t seem to care. The announcement that she had an ex-husband had ended a few dates in the past. “What do you do, Mr. Stoli?”

“I’m a VP at my father’s construction company, but I don’t want to do it much longer.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I love politics.” He eagerly plunged into the topic.

Noelle listened, attracted by his enthusiasm.

This date won’t end soon.