good for them. And I don’t handle that sort of thing very well.”
A jacked-up pickup truck passed on the busy road beside them, heavy bass blasting from the radio so loudly Shannon could almost feel her bones vibrate in response, drowning out the other sounds of cars and people milling in the restaurant parking lot. Instinctively, she threw an annoyed glare in the direction of the ugly truck, then turned back to James.
If he’d noticed the distraction at all, she couldn’t tell by looking at him. His eyes were steady on her face, his expression thoughtful as if he were dissecting her words to study every nuance.
“You’re very direct, aren’t you?” he commented when he could be heard again over the fading boom box on wheels.
Making a face, she shrugged. “It’s a family trait, I guess.”
He nodded. Having spent a couple of hours with her outspoken and gregarious family, he probably understood her excuse very well.
She couldn’t help thinking that James was pretty much her opposite when it came to outspokenness. Whereas she tended to blurt out whatever she was thinking, he kept his thoughts so well masked that there was no telling what was going on in that handsome head. Another potential point of conflict between them, she reminded herself. It would drive her crazy to be with someone who couldn’t share what he was thinking or feeling.
“So, have you dated doctors before?” he asked, his tone uninflected. “Is that how you’ve derived your assessment of the physician’s personality?”
She couldn’t help but be wryly amused by the question. He was such an academic. “Sort of. I dated a—”
A blast of a car horn from the road drowned out her words. It was followed by a screech of tires that made her jump and look around, half expecting to see a wreck take place at the intersection. As it was, two cars barely avoided a collision, followed by curses shouted out an open window and a few hand gestures expressing displeasure with each others’ driving.
“Holy—” She sighed, leaving the rest of her trademark phrase unspoken. “This really isn’t the place for a discussion. Let’s go to the coffee shop at the bookstore down the street where we can talk without shouting over the idiots on the road.”
“Fine,” he said without hesitation and opened his car door. “I’ll meet you there.”
Still muttering beneath her breath about crazy and inconsiderate drivers, Shannon climbed into the thirdhand, compact SUV she’d purchased for hauling around her party supplies and started the engine. She was halfway to the bookstore when it occurred to her abruptly what she had just done.
She’d asked James to join her for coffee. And he had accepted so smoothly it didn’t even occur to her to have second thoughts. Amused and exasperated—with both of them—she laughed softly and promised herself that this would be as close to a date as she would get with James Stillman.
James motioned for Shannon to proceed him into the large, chain bookstore. The familiar scents of coffee and pastries greeted her when she entered this place where she spent quite a bit of time. She loved browsing through the books and magazines, sitting in the invitingly soft chairs scattered throughout the store and perusing pages of interesting-looking books to decide if she wanted to buy them, sipping overpriced coffee drinks and people-watching for a relaxing hour or two. Sometimes she brought her laptop and answered e-mail, worked on party plans or just surfed her favorite Web sites.
Maybe she’d look through the books after she and James had finished their friendly coffees, she thought. She hadn’t bought a book in at least a week—she could probably squeeze another book purchase into this month’s budget.
“Hey, James, how’s it going?” the black-haired, heavily eye-lined, multiply-pierced young woman behind the coffee counter called out as they approached. “Got a new study partner?”
James chuckled. “I’m not studying tonight, Cass. Just having coffee with a friend.”
“You want the usual?”
“Sure. What would you like, Shannon?”
She studied him with a raised eyebrow. As many hours as she’d spent in this store, she was rarely greeted by name and never offered “the usual” in the coffee shop. “Spend a little time here, do you?”
He smiled wryly. “I’ve spent hours in every coffee shop in central Arkansas. My study group always liked combining caffeine with cramming for tests.”
Because it had been so warm and humid outside, leaving her feeling a little sticky, she opted for a cold drink. “Cinnamon dolce frappuccino,” she requested, opening her purse.
James shook his head. “On me,” he murmured, handing Cass his credit card. “I have a discount card here,” he added as if that would ward off her automatic protest.
“So do I,” she argued, anyway. “And I was the one who suggested this.”
Cass swiped the card quickly, winking at James as she did so. “Too late. Already rang it up.”
Sighing, Shannon let her shoulder strap purse drop back to her side. “Thank you.”
There weren’t a lot of customers in the coffee shop—or the bookstore, for that matter—on this Thursday evening. Two middle-aged women gossiped at one table, three teenage girls talked and texted at another, a college-age girl sat behind a stack of books in one corner, scribbling in a wire-bound notebook, and a law student clattered the keyboard of his computer on a little table filled almost to overflowing with law textbooks. Coffee shops and studying seemed to be a popular combination, Shannon mused as she and James claimed a little table in a deserted corner to wait for their drinks.
“So, you dated a…?” James prompted.
She blinked before realizing that he was taking up their conversation exactly where it had been interrupted before. She laughed.