A Whirlwind...Makeover. Nancy Lavo

across from her and lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug. “He doesn’t do a thing for me.”

      She met his twinkling eyes and laughed. “I’m really glad to hear it.”

      Dan looked down at her tray. “Why do you punish yourself like that?” he asked, pointing to the salad.

      She didn’t want to confess she’d planned to sit with Colton and had hoped to fool him into believing she existed on salads. As if anybody would be dumb enough to believe she’d attained her body on lettuce and diet dressing. “I was hoping you’d have a piece of pie you’d want to share,” she improvised.

      He lifted a plate with a large wedge of chocolate cream pie. “Looks like today is your lucky day.”

      She’d forgotten what a nice smile Dan had. It wasn’t movie-star perfect like Colton’s, of course, but it was nice. Dan had a strong jaw and a generous mouth with straight white teeth. She liked the tiny smile lines bracketing his mouth, testimony to the good humor that seemed to radiate from him. The very best thing about his smile was the way it somehow transferred itself from his lips to his eyes when his mouth turned up in a grin.

      He was an attractive man. She’d noticed right away that he was an inch or two taller than she was, a plus in any acquaintance. He had the rangy build of an athlete—more sleek runner than bulky weight lifter. As he had on Friday, Dan wore faded blue jeans and a T-shirt that stretched over a nicely muscled chest.

      This was not a man who spent hours in front of the mirror. Dan appeared to be comfortable with himself, which was probably the reason she felt so comfortable with him.

      She knew instinctively that Dan was a kind man. A man who saved toppling giants and shared his dessert with hungry strangers. A man who knew how to get people to talk about themselves and possessed the rare willingness to listen to the answers.

      Maddie remembered with a guilty start that she’d been so preoccupied with Colton on Friday she hadn’t asked Dan anything about himself. “Tell me about Dan Willis,” she said before popping a forkful of salad into her mouth.

      He flashed her a self-deprecating smile. “Not much to tell.”

      She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not buying that. It’s payback time. I told you all about me on Friday, now it’s your turn. I’ll help you get started. Tell me what you do.”

      “I’m a photographer.”

      “A professional photographer?”

      He nodded.

      “That’s interesting. What do you take pictures of?”

      His laugh sounded more disgusted than amused. “At this moment, I don’t know.”

      Uh-oh. Out-of-work photographer. No wonder he was hesitant to talk about himself. Probably pretty touchy about it. She reached across the table and patted his hand. “Don’t get discouraged. Something will turn up.”

      He caught her hand in his, holding it up to examine it. Maddie’s breath lodged midwindpipe. Wow. Amazing how his casual touch could make her insides go all squishy. She forced herself to breath. Dan’s hand was warm and strong. She was amazed to see that her hand looked feminine, almost fragile when clasped in his larger one.

      “This looks suspiciously like a fresh manicure to me,” he teased.

      She snatched her hand back in embarrassment. “It is. I had my nails done on Saturday.” She didn’t go on to confess that it was her first manicure ever or that it was his remark about her hands being great that had sent her racing to the nearest salon.

      She’d been taught all her life to play up her assets but until she met Dan she hadn’t been sure she possessed any.

      Lunch ran overtime. Conversation was so easy with Dan that Maddie forgot to keep an eye on her watch.

      “Oops,” she said when she finally realized she’d been due back at the office ten minutes ago. “I’ve gotta run.”

      Dan smiled. “No problem. I’ll look for you down here tomorrow.”

      Maddie’s heart felt surprisingly light as she hurried toward the elevator. He didn’t compare to Colton, of course, but Dan made a pretty terrific lunch date.