Call Me Softly by D. Jackson Leigh

Author:D. Jackson Leigh [Leigh, D. Jackson]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
ISBN: 9781602825109
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
Published: 2011-04-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“This is probably a stupid question, but are you hungry? We can just go home if you aren’t.”

“Starving.” Lillie eyed the odd house where Swain stopped the car. “Quaint.”

It featured a traditional Southern wraparound porch enclosed on one side with large windows. Reminiscent of French provincial architecture, the building’s second story was a square roof embedded with windows trimmed in hot pink. Lillie found it rather gaudy.

“Does it remind you of anything?” Swain pointed to a hand-painted sign by the entrance to the parking lot. Riley’s Whitby Bull was printed next to a lighthouse sporting pink stripes.

“Whitby? As in the seaside town of Whitby in North Yorkshire?”

“Yeah.”

“I went on holiday there several times with friends to see the regatta.”

“We have a rowing regatta near here a couple times a year.”

Lillie grinned. “My friends and I enjoyed the women rowers. They were notorious for the parties they threw after the boats were put away.”

Swain’s expression darkened. “Women rowers.” She growled the word like it was a bad taste in her mouth. “I’d have thought you’d be above that sort of thing.”

Her reaction amused Lillie. It sounded like she had some experience with the rowdy rowers, too. “We were first-year university students celebrating the end of the term. I can’t say that sort of thing still appeals to me.”

“I’d hope not,” Swain muttered, guiding them inside the restaurant.

An attractive young hostess greeted them. “Swain! I didn’t see you on the reservation list.” Ignoring Lillie, the hostess wrapped her arms around Swain in a tight hug. “I haven’t seen you all summer, hot stuff. I know you’re busy with polo and junk right now, but that’s no excuse for missing the June regatta.”

Swain looked embarrassed by the young woman’s enthusiastic greeting, but gave her a quick squeeze before stepping back and edging closer to Lillie. “I didn’t know you were working here. This is Lillie Wetherington. Lillie, this is Kendall Stevensen.”

Kendall’s smile dimmed a few kilowatts to a level more in keeping with her job. Her gaze moved over Lillie and settled on Swain’s hand discreetly resting against the small of Lillie’s back. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, her enthusiasm gone.

“Pleasure, I’m sure,” Lillie replied, with cool politeness. She offered her hand, but Kendall’s handshake was limp and brief. Her eyes narrowed at the sound of Lillie’s British accent. Lillie pressed ever so slightly against Swain’s side and met Kendall’s look with a challenging glare of her own. When she raised an eyebrow at Kendall’s boldness, the girl broke off her gaze and stepped over to her hostess podium.

“Our reservation is under Wetherington,” Swain said. “If I’d put it in my name, Lorraine might have seated us by the kitchen door.”

“I could still do that,” she said under her breath. She picked up a couple of menus and turned a businesslike smile their way. “Follow me, please.”

Despite her muttered threat, Kendall led them to a very lovely table beside a window. She watched Swain seat Lillie before settling in her own chair, then handed them the menus and offered the standard, “Enjoy your meal, ladies.

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