Touch of Evil by C. T. Adams, Cathy Clamp Page B

for being the former trolley station and for having really unique seating arrangements. You can sit in an actual trolley to eat, or a bathtub, and there's even a four poster brass bed to sit on. You have to be quick to get that one, though. It's a favorite of families with little kids. The staff lets you bounce.
    I couldn't help but smile and shake my head because he was leaning against the wall, wiping away tears and heaving for breath. "You should have seen your face, Kate! It was priceless! You just about swallowed that beetle!"
    I swatted at him and he ducked. "Keep it up, laughing boy. You'll be eating your spaghetti through a straw tonight."
    5
    We were third in line at the restaurant and only had to wait about fifteen minutes for it to open. A few people lined up behind us as we chatted about living the walking life in Denver. A person actually doesn't have to drive here. The buses run on time and unless you need to go to the 'burbs, you can pretty much live your whole life in a two square mile area and never realize you hadn't left.
    "Shhh! He'll hear you. Do you really think that's him?" The words caught my attention, because they were followed by so much girlish giggling that I had to look to see the ages of the speakers. They were a little older than I'd thought, in their early twenties. They noticed that I noticed and stepped a little farther from the entrance. But I have good hearing, and while Tom was looking at the menu pasted behind plexiglass on the wall, I listened in.
    "It is, Julie! He's the guy in the fireman calendar. That's Mr. August." I glanced back at Tom and tried not to gawk. Well, he could be a calendar model. He's certainly gorgeous enough.
    "Omygawd! I think you're right, Megan. Man, he is soooo hot! My sister had to wipe her drool off that page when she bought it." The doors of the restaurant swung outward just then as the manager unlocked the upper and lower locks of the second towering door. Tom reached back his hand expectantly and pulled me toward him. He put his hand firmly against the small of my back and then fixed the giggle girls with his full attention. He winked and flashed a smile at them that could have melted solid steel before following me inside. I heard their delighted squeal just before the door shut behind us.
    "You're a calendar model?" I asked quietly with awed amazement while we waited for the greeter to return from seating the people in front of us. He shrugged and managed to look both modest and pleased. "Yeah, sort of. The department did their annual charity calendar last year, and I was Mr. August. No big deal. The police do one, too." I chuckled. "It was a big deal to them. You probably made their whole week by smiling at them."
    I noticed that his hand was still warm against my back and his eyes were locked with mine. Boy, did I notice. His words were more serious than I think he planned. "I'm a lot more concerned with whether I've made your whole week."
    I was thankfully saved from responding when the greeter returned. The lights were dim enough that hopefully he couldn't see the blush that reached all the way to the roots of my hair.
    There's nothing like low lighting and the smell of pasta sauce to stimulate conversation. I don't know why. We were sitting in the back of the trolley car since there were only two of us, and they were saving the bed and bathtub for larger groups. It wasn't long after we started sipping our wine that we were both spilling our life stories to each other.
    "Yeah, I think I've met your brother," Tom said, nodding. "Doesn't he work over at St. E's? When Denver General gets full, we take victims over there."
    I nodded with a mouth full of hot crusty bread, slathered with butter. I figured I'd earned it by sleeping the whole previous day, so I wasn't too worried about the calories.
    When I finally swallowed, I replied. "Yep. He's worked in the ER since med school. He really seems to love it. It takes a special breed to do that day after day.