Sunny Chandler's Return

“I’d only need a handful of orders this first year to show a profit. Not many new businesses can promise to do that. And I know in here,” she said, pressing a closed fist against her heart, “that my costumes would be so stupendous that the year after that I’d have more orders than I could fill.”

He stared down into her earnest face. “You’ve convinced me.” Their stare held for a long moment. “Ready?” he asked at last, nodding down at her empty glass.

“Yes,” she murmured, pulling things back into focus. “Thank you.”

He paid their bill. “Which aisle should we take? Toys and books or feminine hygiene?”

Sunny, actually grateful to him for relieving the tension that had unexpectedly sprung up between them, shot him a sour look and started down the aisle stocked with sand pails and Rambo dolls.

“I have one question for you,” he said. “What does all that have to do with making bad sketches of insects?”

“I should have known better than to believe you were taking me seriously.”

“I was.” He sounded offended.

“Maybe. Still, where business and the female sex are concerned, you’re no different from the bankers. When you look at a woman all you see is a pair of—” She bit off the last word, castigating herself for her carelessness.

“Oh, I noticed your pair, all right. But, lovely as they are, that doesn’t mean I don’t see more than them.”

Sunny didn’t know if it had actually gotten hotter outside or if his reference to her breasts only made it seem that way. As soon as she stepped onto the sidewalk, she turned in the direction of her car. He was a constant source of irritation, but, giving credit where credit was due, he had been a good listener. She thanked him for it, then added, “I needed to vent my frustration.”

“Keep your chin up,” he told her, lightly cuffing her on the chin. “Mr. Smithie might surprise you and say yes.”

“It would be more of a shock than a surprise.”

“If I were the bank I’d lend you the money.”

“Because you believe in what I want to do?”

“Because a woman who could summon up the courage to walk out on a church full of people on her wedding day can do anything she sets her mind to.”

Her footsteps faltered. “I wish you’d forget about that. But then why should you be the only forgetful one?”

Stopping, he brought her to a halt and turned her to face him. “Uh-oh. I think I found a raw nerve.” He studied her bleak expression. “Smithie didn’t use that as the reason for turning you down, did he?” Choosing not to answer him, Sunny continued on her way.

“That sonofabitch,” she heard the sheriff mutter.

When they reached her car, she unlocked it and tried to open the door. Ty, putting his weight behind his straight arm, prevented that. She turned around, finding herself wedged between him and the car door. As evidenced by his smile, he was trying to lighten her mood.

“About that bug.”

“I told you that it was a dragonfly.”

“I stand corrected.” His eyebrow was still arched inquiringly.

“I had this idea,” she said resignedly, “of a dragonfly. I can see a black sequin casing from the top of the head to the bottom of an oh-so-tight skirt.” Her forehead puckered. “I just can’t figure out how I’d handle the wings. They should be enormous. Sheer, iridescent. They’d need to move to get the right effect and be strong enough to stand out away from the body. They’d have to fold up somehow, or come off completely, after she made her grand entrance.”

Suddenly realizing where she was, Sunny self-consciously glanced up at Ty. He would think she was nuttier than he already did. Or be bored by her meandering thoughts. But his smile was an indication of just how much he was enjoying himself.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Could I interest you in lunch?”

“I don’t eat lunch.”

“Sex?”