High Noon

too, especially along the river,” he commented.
    “I have to get home.”
    “So you said. Not cold, are you?”
    “No.”
    He walked into the lot, hailing the attendant. “How you doing there, Lester?”
    “Doing what comes, boss. Evening, ma’am.”
    A bill passed from hand to hand so smoothly Phoebe nearly missed it. Then she was standing, staring at a gleaming white Porsche.
    “No handlebars.” Duncan shrugged, grinned, then opened the door for her.
    “I’m forced to admit this will be better than the bus—or Johnnie Porter’s Schwinn.”
    “You like cars?”
    “If you’d asked me that a couple hours ago, I’d have given you several reasons why cars and I are on nonspeaking terms currently.” She brushed a hand over the side of the buttery leather seat. “But I like this one just fine.”
    “Me, too.”
    He didn’t drive like a maniac, which she’d half-expected, and had to admit had half-hoped. He did drive, however, like a man who knew the city the way she knew her own bedroom—every nook and cranny.
    She gave him the address and let herself enjoy the sort of ride she’d never imagined experiencing. When he pulled up in front of her house, she let out a long sigh. “Very nice. Thank you.”
    “My pleasure.” He got out, skirting the hood to take her hand again on the sidewalk. “Great house.”
    “It is, yes.” There it was, she thought, rosy brick, white trim, tall windows, graceful terraces.
    Hers, whether she liked it or not.
    “Family home, family duty. Long story.”
    “Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner tomorrow night?”
    Something in her actively yearned when she turned toward him. “Oh, Duncan, you’re awfully cute, and you’re rich, and you’ve got a very sexy car. I’m just not in a position to start a relationship.”
    “Are you in a position to eat dinner?”
    She laughed, shook her head as he walked with her up to the parlor level. “Several nights a week, depending.”
    “You’re a public servant. I’m the public. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. Or pick another activity, another day. I’ll work around it.”
    “I have a date with my daughter tomorrow night. Saturday, dinner, as long as it’s understood this can’t go anywhere.”
    “Saturday.”
    He leaned in. It was smooth, but she saw the move. Still, it felt fussy and foolish to stop it. So she let his lips brush over hers. Sweet, she thought.
    Then his hands ran down from her shoulders to her wrists, his mouth moved on hers. And she couldn’t think at all. Deep, penetrating warmth, quick, hard flutters, a leap and gallop of pulse.
    She felt it, all of it, as her body seemed to let out a breath too long held.
    Her head actually spun before he eased back, and she was left staring, staring into his eyes. She said, “Oh, well, damn it.”
    He flashed that grin at her. “I’ll pick you up at seven. ’Night, Phoebe.”
    “Yeah, ’night.” She managed to unlock the door, and when she glanced back, he was standing on the sidewalk, still grinning at her. “Good night,” she said again.
    Inside, she locked up, turned off the porch light. And wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

4
    She’d no more than reached the top of the stairs when her mother and Ava slipped out of the TV room with big, expectant smiles.
    “So?” Essie began. “How was it?”
    “It was fine. It was a drink.” If she’d been wearing socks, Phoebe thought as she aimed for her bedroom, they’d have blown clear across Jones Street during that good-night kiss.
    Behind her back, Essie and Ava exchanged a look, then headed off in pursuit.
    “Well, what’s he like? What did you talk about? Come on, Phoebs.” Ava clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “Give us dateless wonders the scoop.”
    “We had a beer in his very nice pub. I enjoyed it. I’m going to work out.”
    Another look was exchanged when Phoebe went to her dresser to pull out yoga pants and a sports bra.
    “What’d you talk about?”
    Phoebe glanced at her mother in the mirror, shrugged. She began to strip and change. She’d lived among women too long to worry about nudity. “This and that. He used to tend bar and drive a cab.”
    “Hmm. So he’s enterprising, isn’t he?”
    “You could say.”
    “Where does he live?” Ava pressed. “In the city?”
    “I didn’t ask.”
    “Well, for goodness sake.” Essie cast her eyes to the ceiling. “Why not?”
    “It didn’t come up.” Phoebe reached in the little