Christmas in Whitehorn by Susan Mallery Page B

meant anything by them, she gave him a quick smile and disappeared toward the kitchen to write up his order.
    Five minutes later she was back with a bowl of oatmeal, a small pitcher of two percent milk, brown sugar and raisins.
    He gazed at his meal as if she'd offered him stir-fried bugs. "Does it have to be so gray?"
    "It's not gray, it's kind of ecru."
    "And that's more appealing how?"
    His words were light, but she could still see the lingering pain in his eyes.
    " You all right, Mark?" she asked, turning the tables and studying him.
    "Sure. Fine." He glanced at her. "Okay, how about I'm putting it in perspective."
    "That one I'll accept. I've been worried about you."
    He raised one eyebrow. "Do you always try to save the world?"
    "Not the world, just a few bits of it."
    "How'd I get to be so lucky as to have you around just when I needed you?"
    She studied him to see if he was being sarcastic, but she didn't think he was taunting her.
    "We're friends," she said. "As for my desire to do the right thing – I have twenty years of being useless to make up for."
    "You're wrong, Darcy. You were a kid for most of those twenty years. Your only re- sponsibility was to grow up and I'd say you did a fine job of that."
    His compliment pleased her. She excused herself to check on her other customers and tried not to think about Mark while she worked.
    She knew she was attracted to the man. She didn't want it to be that way, but it was too late now not to notice him. Harder to ignore were the danger signs flashing in her brain. He was dangerous to her – she knew it with every fiber of her being. They hadn't made love since Sunday and not an hour went by that she didn't think about what they'd done and wish they were doing it again. Worse, she found herself missing him when they weren't together, which was most of the time.
    "Don't do this to yourself ," she murmured quietly as she cleared tables and pocketed the tips. "Don't get involved."
    Unfortunately, she wasn't listening.
    "How was it?" she asked when she re- turned to Mark's table.
    He pointed at the near-empty bowl. "I didn't gag, but I don't want it every day."
    "Studies show that—"
    He winced. "Spare me, please."
    "Okay. Just this once. By the way there's going to be a great chicken-vegetable salad on the menu for lunch."
    He ignored her comment. "There's a craft fair on Saturday. I thought you might like to go."
    Her stomach turned over. Was he asking her as a friend or as something more? They had not redefined their relationship since last Sunday and she was afraid to bring it up now … mostly because she wasn't sure what she wanted his answer to be.
    "I wouldn't have thought you were the craft-fair type," she said. "Won't all those knickknacks and homemade goodies give you hives?"
    "I thought you'd have fun."
    His green eyes were so beautiful, she thought suddenly. She could very happily drown in them. Which only showed she was losing her mind.
    "I can't," she said regretfully. "I already have plans."
    "Anyone I know?"
    It was a casual enough question. She searched for an edge to his voice – maybe a hint of jealousy. She didn't find any.
    "Nope. Just some stuff I need to do." Actually, she was going to visit Dirk and hear all about his trip, but Mark didn't need to know that. At least not yet. At some point in time she was going to have to tell him the truth. Tell him and watch him walk out the door.
    "Maybe next time," he said, putting several bills on the table.
    "I'd like that."
    As he left, she wondered how much longer they would have as friends or whatever it was that explained their relationship. And how much she would miss him when he was gone.
    *
    Mark drove slowly through town searching for a beat-up dark green import. There wasn't a single one in sight. Whatever Darcy's plans had been for the day, they'd taken her out of town.
    He circled through the main section of Whitehorn again, but couldn't spot anyone who looked the least bit like his blond