whisper. “Because you’ve got to be on your toes with that woman in town.”
“Woman?” The crunch of her apple echoed around the room. “What woman are you talking about?”
Leona rolled her eyes skyward. “The old college flame. The one who looks as if she stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.”
She dropped her apple-holding hand to the top of the desk. “You saw her?”
“No, dear, but Debbie has.”
“Debbie said that? About the fashion magazine?”
Leona nodded. “We need to make sure she doesn’t win, dear.”
“Win?” She glanced down at the food on her napkin just in time to feel her appetite go riding off into the sunset. “Win what?”
“Milo.”
Pushing the napkin off to the side, she leaned back in her chair, the thoughts she’d managed to shrug off in favor of work resurfacing with a vengeance. “I’m not out to win Milo.”
Leona peered over her glasses. “Oh?”
“Milo and I are happy together. Beth Samuelson was years ago. Fourteen years ago to be exact.”
“Time has a way of slipping away, dear. Especially when someone’s on a mission.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“She’s after Milo.”
She closed her eyes against the words she didn’t want to believe, words Beth, herself, had certainly alluded to that morning at Debbie’s Bakery. “No, she’s not.”
“Oh no?” Leona crossed her arms. “Then why did Debbie say you looked so miserable after your little meeting with her this morning?”
Damn.
“I didn’t. I just—” And then she stopped, all further denial futile. “He says he’s not interested.”
Leona waved her hand above her head. “Which is neither here nor there, dear. A woman can break down virtually all walls of resistance if they want to. It’s a matter of using the proper tools.”
Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Tori slumped back in her chair. “And she’s got those. In spades.”
Leona pulled her purse onto the desk and unzipped it, her hand locating and displaying a plethora of makeup products. “Anyone can highlight their tools, dear. That’s easy.”
“It is?”
The woman gestured around the room. “It’s the aura, the mood a man feels when he’s with you that really seals his fate.”
“You think it was mood that made every man in the bakery turn and stare at this woman?”
“No. Men are very predictable. They like the shiny object. It’s why I get so many looks everywhere I go.”
Tori nibbled back the urge to laugh. If there was one thing Leona wasn’t lacking, it was an ego. Granted, it was justified—she looked amazing for her age—but still, it was there. And then some.
“But it’s what you exude , dear, that keeps them focused—for the long haul . . . or as long as you decide.”
“Okay . . .” Tori spun her chair just enough to afford a view of the library grounds and the town square just beyond its perimeter. “Then I should be okay, right? Milo and I have a lot in common.”
“Common, schmommon. I’m talking about the attraction, the excitement, the passion .”
She spun back to view her friend. “Milo and I do fine. Just fine.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, dear. There shouldn’t be any just about passion. Not the kind that will make him stick around, anyway.”
Was Leona right? Did she need to spice things up a little? Had they gotten too comfortable with each other?
Comfortable is good.
She shook her head. “Can we not talk about this right now? Please?”
“I’m just trying to help, dear.”
“I know. And I appreciate it, Leona, I really do. It’s just—”
The ring of the branch phone cut her off mid-sentence. She picked it up and held it to her ear, glancing at the clock on the wall in the process.
“Good evening. Sweet Briar Public Library, how may I help you?”
“Yes, this is Regina Murphy.”
Tori gripped the phone tighter. “Oh, yes, Miss Murphy, how may I help you?”
“I had a call on my answering
“Woman?” The crunch of her apple echoed around the room. “What woman are you talking about?”
Leona rolled her eyes skyward. “The old college flame. The one who looks as if she stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.”
She dropped her apple-holding hand to the top of the desk. “You saw her?”
“No, dear, but Debbie has.”
“Debbie said that? About the fashion magazine?”
Leona nodded. “We need to make sure she doesn’t win, dear.”
“Win?” She glanced down at the food on her napkin just in time to feel her appetite go riding off into the sunset. “Win what?”
“Milo.”
Pushing the napkin off to the side, she leaned back in her chair, the thoughts she’d managed to shrug off in favor of work resurfacing with a vengeance. “I’m not out to win Milo.”
Leona peered over her glasses. “Oh?”
“Milo and I are happy together. Beth Samuelson was years ago. Fourteen years ago to be exact.”
“Time has a way of slipping away, dear. Especially when someone’s on a mission.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“She’s after Milo.”
She closed her eyes against the words she didn’t want to believe, words Beth, herself, had certainly alluded to that morning at Debbie’s Bakery. “No, she’s not.”
“Oh no?” Leona crossed her arms. “Then why did Debbie say you looked so miserable after your little meeting with her this morning?”
Damn.
“I didn’t. I just—” And then she stopped, all further denial futile. “He says he’s not interested.”
Leona waved her hand above her head. “Which is neither here nor there, dear. A woman can break down virtually all walls of resistance if they want to. It’s a matter of using the proper tools.”
Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Tori slumped back in her chair. “And she’s got those. In spades.”
Leona pulled her purse onto the desk and unzipped it, her hand locating and displaying a plethora of makeup products. “Anyone can highlight their tools, dear. That’s easy.”
“It is?”
The woman gestured around the room. “It’s the aura, the mood a man feels when he’s with you that really seals his fate.”
“You think it was mood that made every man in the bakery turn and stare at this woman?”
“No. Men are very predictable. They like the shiny object. It’s why I get so many looks everywhere I go.”
Tori nibbled back the urge to laugh. If there was one thing Leona wasn’t lacking, it was an ego. Granted, it was justified—she looked amazing for her age—but still, it was there. And then some.
“But it’s what you exude , dear, that keeps them focused—for the long haul . . . or as long as you decide.”
“Okay . . .” Tori spun her chair just enough to afford a view of the library grounds and the town square just beyond its perimeter. “Then I should be okay, right? Milo and I have a lot in common.”
“Common, schmommon. I’m talking about the attraction, the excitement, the passion .”
She spun back to view her friend. “Milo and I do fine. Just fine.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, dear. There shouldn’t be any just about passion. Not the kind that will make him stick around, anyway.”
Was Leona right? Did she need to spice things up a little? Had they gotten too comfortable with each other?
Comfortable is good.
She shook her head. “Can we not talk about this right now? Please?”
“I’m just trying to help, dear.”
“I know. And I appreciate it, Leona, I really do. It’s just—”
The ring of the branch phone cut her off mid-sentence. She picked it up and held it to her ear, glancing at the clock on the wall in the process.
“Good evening. Sweet Briar Public Library, how may I help you?”
“Yes, this is Regina Murphy.”
Tori gripped the phone tighter. “Oh, yes, Miss Murphy, how may I help you?”
“I had a call on my answering
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