Lessons from the Heart. Dorothy Clark

quiet acknowledgment. He wasn’t accustomed to having his openings for a little flirting ignored. He took another tack. “Professor Stiles said you were the program coordinator. I’m not familiar with the way the program is set up. Is that a paid position?”

      “It will be starting in July—thanks to the grant. At the moment no one in the program is salaried. It’s all volunteer. Our funds have been used only for needed teaching supplies.”

      “What about rent?”

      “Professor Stiles owns the building we use and he doesn’t take a dime for rent. He even pays the taxes out of his own pocket.” Affection warmed her smile. “I told you he has a heart of gold.”

      Or a comfortable tax writeoff. That would have to be investigated. David took another swallow of lemonade, then leaned back out of the way while the server returned and placed their food on the table. When the man left, David laid his napkin over his leg, filled his plate from the antipasto tray and drizzled dressing over it. “I know Professor Stiles works at the university, but what about you, Erin? Since you’ve been volunteering all your time and talent, you must be one of the idle rich.”

      Her laughter sounded like music.

      “I’m afraid not.” She looked up from fixing her plate. “I’ve only been able to volunteer at Westwood a few evenings a week. But that will all change now. School will be out in three weeks, and I’ll begin full-time work at the center.”

      “School?” David lifted the wicker basket, folded back the napkin and held the basket out to Erin. “You’re a teacher?”

      She nodded, took a bread stick and broke it in half before putting it on her bread plate. “I teach kindergarten at Living Hope Christian School.”

      The moment turned sour—not to mention his stomach. “I’m sure that’s very rewarding.” It was a lame response, but it was the best he could dredge up.

      “Yes, it is.” She gave him a long, measuring look, then bowed her head.

      She was saying grace! David resisted the urge to get up and walk away. He set the basket down, sliced off a bite of prosciutto, stabbed it with his fork, then added a sliver of green pepper and began to eat.

      Erin lifted her head and their gazes met. David ignored the reactive quickening of his pulse and turned all business. He wanted to wrap up this interview, say goodbye and bolt out the door. It was a good thing she had insisted on driving her own car—they could go their separate ways when the meal was over. “I think I’ll find enough general information about the center in the brochure you gave me, Erin. Why don’t you tell me about the grant.”

      Erin opened her car door, then turned and swept her gaze over the stucco and beam exterior of Carlo’s Villa. She wasn’t used to eating leisurely business lunches in fancy restaurants—she belonged to the “grab a sandwich and get back to work” crowd. And that’s exactly what she needed to do—get back to work.

      Erin slid into the driver’s seat, secured her seatbelt, switched on the ignition and looked in the rearview mirror. A man and woman, standing beside a car in the row directly behind her, were locked in a passionate kiss. The man ran his hand over the woman’s body, pressing her close against him.

      Erin jerked her gaze away, shifted into Reverse and looked over her shoulder as she backed out. The man stopped whatever he was doing to the woman’s neck and lifted his head to glance toward the moving vehicle.

      Jerry!

      Erin gasped. Of its own volition, her foot jammed on the brakes and the car jolted to a stop. The woman turned her head to look. Dr. Swan’s new receptionist!

      Erin’s stomach knotted. She whipped around to face front, locking her gaze on the mirror. Jerry mouthed something to the young woman, and they resumed their embrace with increased ardor. Erin swallowed back a surge of nausea, shifted gears and drove away. All thought of her pleasant lunch disappeared as a wave of anger washed over her at seeing her sister’s live-in boyfriend with another woman.

      Chapter Two

      “You were off your game big-time tonight, Dave. The ‘Tiger’ didn’t show up, you were more like a pussycat.”

      David yanked the towel from around his neck, scrubbed it over his still damp hair and glanced at Ted. “Is that right?”

      “It sure is.” Ted jammed his own towel in his duffel bag. “Your concentration was way off. What’s up?”

      “Nothing. I just had a bad night.”

      “Yeah, right. That excuse might work for mere mortals, but you, my friend—” David braced himself for the solid thump that hit his shoulder “—you need a better reason. Anything I can help with?”

      “Nope.” David pulled his T-shirt on and stuffed it into his jeans. “Not unless you’ve turned into an expert on women.”

      “Oh?” Ted’s eyebrows raised, a grin spread across his face. “You’re asking me for advice about women? How the mighty are fallen!” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m going to enjoy this! So spill it. Just what is the difficulty between you and the illustrious model?”

      David shot him a look. “Her name is Brandee. And she’s not the problem. I met a woman I can’t get out of my mind, that’s all. Hence my lack of concentration—” he thumped Ted back “—and your bogus win.”

      “That’s as good an excuse as any.” Ted’s grin slipped into a frown. “I thought you and Brandee only dated for mutual professional benefit—that you were each free to see others.”

      “True.”

      “So what’s the problem?” Ted leveled his “lawyer look” on him. “Why don’t you just call this other woman? Is she married?”

      “No.” David scowled. “She’s religious.”

      “Ouch!”

      He nodded. “My feelings exactly. Now it’s time for me to go home and put the finishing touches on tomorrow’s column. Why don’t you go chase an ambulance and drum up some legal business? Unless you want to get a pizza or something?”

      Ted’s grin returned. “No can do, Tiger. I’m booked for the night. And believe me, when I leave here, it isn’t an ambulance I’ll be chasing after.”

      David laughed and crammed his playing clothes in his gym bag along with his damp towel. “How is Darlene?”

      Ted zipped his bag. “Fantastic! I proposed last Saturday.”

      “Wow! I didn’t see that one coming.” David lifted out his shoes and slammed his locker door. He turned and stared at his lifelong friend. “What happened to ‘Mr. Confirmed Bachelor’?”

      Ted laughed. “He took one look at Darlene and died a sudden death. When it’s right—it’s right.” He sobered. “There’s no way I can fight what I feel for her, Dave. I don’t even want to try.”

      “That’s great, Ted.” David stuck out his hand. “Congratulations.”

      “Yeah. Thanks.” Ted shook hands, then shifted his stance. “Looks like it’s going to be a no-holds-barred wedding. Will you be best man?”

      David gave him a crooked grin. “What do you mean, ‘will I be’? I always have been.”

      Ted snorted. “Not in Darlene’s eyes—and that’s all that matters.” He picked up his bag and headed for the door. “I’ll tell her you said yes and she can scratch you off the ‘things to be done for the wedding’ list.” He pulled open the door, stepped outside, then hesitated. “See you next Wednesday. And make sure the ‘Tiger’ shows up, okay? I like a little competition.”

      David threw his shoe at him. He wasn’t quick enough. The shoe crashed against the closed door. He grinned, grabbed his other shoe and cocked his arm. He didn’t