The Girls Of Mischief Bay. Susan Mallery

going to dip below fifty-eight. She’d been able to wear her favorite outfit and bring a pashmina as a wrap.

      The dress was one of her rare clothing splurges. An Oscar de la Renta silk cloqué cocktail dress. The fabric—a textured silk—was simply tailored. A scooped-neck tank style, front and back, fitted to the waist, then flaring out. She’d left her red hair loose and wavy, and added diamond studs for her only jewelry. She’d left her legs bare, with only a hint of a shimmery lotion to add a glow, then finished off the outfit with a classic pair of black pumps.

      Honestly, she’d been hoping for some kind of a reaction and Adam didn’t disappoint. He crossed to her and took both her hands in his.

      “I know this is going to get old, but wow.”

      She smiled. “Thank you. You’re looking very handsome yourself.”

      Dress at The Farm Table was generally nice to fancy. Adam wore a suit and tie. Men had it easy, she thought. Give them some decent tailoring and they look great.

      He excused himself and gave his name to the hostess, then returned to her side.

      “It’ll just be a few minutes.”

      “Thank you.” She stared into his dark eyes. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

      His brows drew together. “Why?”

      “I didn’t think our first date went very well.”

      Genuine confusion tugged at his mouth. “Seriously? I thought it was good. We were getting to know each other. If you thought it went badly, why did you say yes to dinner?”

      She touched his arm. “I meant I thought I wouldn’t hear from you because I got called back to work. I’m not saying it happens all the time, but when it does, I have to take care of the problem.”

      There it was—her career out there. So far she liked Adam. He made her hope in a way she hadn’t for a long time. But she wasn’t going to pretend to be other than who she was for anyone and she wanted to make sure he got that.

      He relaxed. “Oh, that. It’s okay. You have a job with demands. I do, too. Would you have a problem if I had to cancel because of a crisis at the job site?”

      “No.”

      “So we both get that we have responsibilities.”

      As easy as that? “It’s my turn to say wow.”

      He chuckled. “If that impresses you, then I’m doing a whole lot better than I thought. Makes me glad I called in all those favors to get the reservation here.”

      “I am impressed by you and the venue. So it’s a win-win.”

      “I like that in a date.”

      His gaze dropped to her mouth for just a second longer than was polite.

      Shannon knew it was silly to let the man’s obvious attraction win her over. She had to be feeling it, too. But she had to admit it was pretty nice to be wanted.

      A voice in her head pointed out that Quinn also wanted her. Only it was on his terms, his way, on his schedule. Theirs wasn’t a relationship. It was some kind of twisted addiction. Adam just might be the right antidote.

      The hostess led them to a small table by a window. They were tucked into a private alcove, a little bit away from the other diners.

      “Have you dined here before?” she asked.

      They both said they had.

      “Then you know how our menu works. The chef has some very special dishes in store for you. Enjoy.”

      The Farm Table’s menu was information, not a choice. The items changed every week and there were a few vegetarian options for main courses. Otherwise, you ate what was put in front of you. They were taking a stand and Shannon could respect that.

      She glanced at the five-course menu and was grateful she hadn’t put on Spanx. At least she would have some extra room for all the yummy food.

      Adam picked up his menu. “What’s a squash blossom and how do you put salmon in it?”

      “It’s a plant.”

      “You’re guessing.”

      “No, I’m sure it’s a plant-based thing that has an opening or can be stuffed or something.”

      He looked at her, his brows raised.

      She sighed. “Fine. I have no idea what it is. I’m sure it’s delicious. Do you know what sorrel tastes like? We have sorrel sauce in our third course.”

      “Not a clue.”

      “Then I guess we’ll find out together.”

      He nodded and put down his menu. “Want to go with the wine suggestions?”

      “Sure.”

      “Me, too.” He leaned toward her. “I really was okay about the job thing.”

      “I get that now.”

      “I didn’t call right away because I was away on business. The guy who’s building the hotel insisted I fly to Denver to meet with him personally. He doesn’t like email updates.”

      “Not a problem.”

      “I didn’t want you to think I was flaky. Or not interested.” He leaned back and smiled. “I see the biggest problem here is that you’re too attractive. I’m not sure I can see you as a person.”

      “What would I be if not a person?”

      “An object.” The smile faded. “All joking aside, Shannon, I’m not in this to get laid. I’m not that guy. Don’t get me wrong. Of course I want to sleep with you. I’m breathing, right? I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m a divorced father with two kids and the thought of playing the field exhausts me. I want to find somebody special. Somebody I can care about and share things with. A relationship, I guess.”

      He paused and grimaced. “That was sure more than you needed to know. Sorry. Did I mention I’m not the greatest first date?”

      “This is our second date.”

      “That, too.”

      He looked embarrassed, but she wasn’t put off by what he’d said. It was honest, and lately it seemed honest men were hard to find.

      He wasn’t looking to play games or torment her or be totally in charge. He wanted to connect on a level that was meaningful.

      “I appreciate what you’ve said,” she told him. “And I get it.” She did her best not to smile. “Especially the part about not wanting to sleep with me. Because every girl longs to hear that.”

      He groaned. “Of course I want to sleep with you. I said that. I made that really clear.”

      Their server appeared. If she’d overheard what they were saying, she didn’t let on.

      “Good evening and welcome to The Farm Table. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

      Despite the fact that it was a set menu, it still took a good three or four minutes to perform the niceties and order the wine. After their server left, Shannon stretched out her hand, palm up.

      “It’s okay,” she told Adam.

      He put his hand on top of hers. “Yeah?”

      “Yeah. I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”

      He sighed. “Would you have before I said anything?”

      “Not a chance.”

      He brightened. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

      “You are very strange.”

      “I’ve been told that before.”

      The server returned with