Tapas on the Ramblas by Anthony Bidulka

Author:Anthony Bidulka [Bidulka, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9781894663977
Google: 7MwBGx-Cw70C
Amazon: B0037HOQO4
Goodreads: 856134
Publisher: Insomniac Press
Published: 2005-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

He looked at me with nothing on his lips. Nice thick lips above a cleft chin sporting a rough and ready five-o'clock shadow.

"Were you on a winning streak?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So why in the bar?"

Grunt.

I flicked my head towards the scene of Marsha's embarrassment. "Your sister knows she's shopping for beer and pretzels in a champagne and dainties store, doesn't she?"

"Wouldn't matter."

Jeez! He was about as verbose as Patrick.

He shrugged. "Actually I'm glad to see you, Russell. There's something I wanted to say to you."

I smiled. "Well then, you won't mind my joining you then?" I don't know how I came up with that conclusion, but it served my purposes well. "Did you enjoy Tunis?" I asked once I was positioned next to him, enjoying my proximity to the man. Unlike Patrick-his much older cousin-in-law-Nick Kincaid did not smell like an old man. He smelled like a virile, sensual, musky young man. And when the bartender delivered a glass of tonic with lime, he accepted it with a big paw of a hand with long, nicely shaped fingers. I am a sucker for beautiful hands. Like Stanley Tucci in The Terminal. Yup-those are good hands.

"I did, very much," he answered when the waiter had gone. "I've always been fascinated by the history of the Punic Wars."

Oh, oh, a smarty. Change of subject required. "What was it you wanted to say to me?"

He studied his drink as if looking for the words in the glass. "I wanted, to thank you. For breaking up the fight the other night. I got carried away."

"You never told me what happened," I said, hinting. "Did you know that other guy?"

"Nah," he said. "He thought he knew me. It was a big mix-up."

"I see." I say that a lot, even when it's not true-like now-hoping for more.

But apparently there was no more. Nick sat there quiet.

"Do you get along with your aunt?"

Another shrug. "Charity? I guess so. She's a queer old bird, but she's all right."

Queer. Interesting choice of words. Did he mean to tell me that she was gay, or just that she was odd? "I suppose you don't get to see her too often, what with her living in Victoria and you in...?"

"Toronto."

"Yeah, right. Flora tells me you're a fitness trainer. I spend some time in Toronto. If I'm ever in need of a trainer, what gym are you at?" Must be a good one with very rich clients who pay you very well so you can afford all your expensive clothes and bath gels I said to myself.

He gave me a look. Probably wondering why I was asking so many questions. Couldn't blame him but I wasn't about to stop until he shut me down.

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