White Offerings by Ann Roberts Page A

you.”
    She snorted. “You’re not interrupting. Hell, you would have done better to talk to them. After all, you’re the one who grows the orchids.”
    The younger woman nodded in agreement. “So, what did you tell them?”
    Mrs. Cavanaugh laughed. “Absolutely nothing, honey.”

    By the time Biz and Ari battled the Monday afternoon traffic back into Central Phoenix, it was lunchtime. Before she could protest, Biz steered the Shelby into the parking lot of Oaxaca, gaining the approving stares of many patrons as they pulled into a parking spot. Ari had been here a few times with Molly, and a twinge of guilt gnawed at her, but she didn’t suggest they go elsewhere. They found a booth in the back and a waiter quickly took their order. When the menus disappeared, Biz turned to Ari.
    “You know, my mother always told me it was rude to stare,” Ari said.
    Biz’s lips cracked a smile, but her gaze didn’t waver. “I’m not staring. I’m studying you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it feels natural.”
    The comment surprised Ari and she looked away, shaking her head. “How old are you again?”
    Biz didn’t answer her question but chose to stretch her arms across the back of the booth. The gesture suggested extraordinary familiarity, and while her arm wasn’t draped over Ari’s shoulder, her hand was close enough to imply intimacy. “What other pieces of advice does your mother give you?”
    Ari’s gaze fell to the table. “None anymore. My mother died four years ago.”
    “I’m sorry,” Biz said softly, taking her hand. “I can relate. My mother’s not dead, but she might as well be. She threw me out years ago.”
    Ari offered a sympathetic smile. “That happened to me, too. My father.”
    Biz’s eyes widened. “Jack Adams tossed out his own daughter? Wow.” She took a deep breath and gave her hand a squeeze. “I guess we have a lot in common.”
    “It seems so.” Ari abruptly pulled her hand away from Biz’s grasp.
    “Sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
    “Cops come here. Cops look out for each other. I don’t need one of them calling Molly and reporting that I was cheating.”
    “But we’re just having lunch. Aren’t we?”
    Ari nodded. “Yes.” She took a drink of water and guided the conversation into more mundane topics like Biz’s car and her penchant for wearing rock band T-shirts, which apparently were all purchased at concerts or on eBay.
    “So how many concerts have you been to?”
    Biz did a mental calculation and shrugged. “It’s hard to keep track. Probably three hundred. I really like the concert atmosphere. Do you go?”
    “Not too often. I work a lot of nights, but I’ll go if it’s someone I really want to see.”
    The waiter brought their taco salads and they abandoned the conversation for food. Ari felt Biz’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up. It was both awkward and easy being with Biz, and she couldn’t understand how such conflicting emotions would overtake her—at lunch.
    Once they finished, she said, “So what do you make of this orchid business?”
    “I’m really not sure. I followed Isabel and Jane last night, but there was nothing unusual, except for Jane’s ability to bed a woman in less than two hours, if you count time for a meal. That’s really quite a talent.”
    Ari laughed. “Jane does get to the point. An expensive dinner is foreplay to her, and she’s ready to go home by the time the check comes. I’m positive her stalker is someone she knows.”
    Biz raised her eyebrow. “Stalker? So you’ve changed your mind about this person? Do you think Jane is in danger?”
    She shrugged. “I really don’t know. If you’d asked me before last night, I would have said no, but now I’m not so sure.”
    “Well, the good news is that the person’s behavior is still rather benign. There haven’t been any threatening notes or phone calls.”
    Her mind reached back to Jane’s conversations with Izzie. “I think there was a hangup,