Together Alone by Barbara Delinsky

Author:Barbara Delinsky [Delinsky, Barbara]
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Romance, Fiction, General, Romance & Sagas, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), General & Literary Fiction, Fiction - General
ISBN: 9780061092817
Publisher: HarperTorch
Published: 2010-03-17T05:00:00+00:00

CELESTE WALKED INTO THE SUNFLOWER WITH A

rose in her hand and stood quietly in the waiting area just beyond the hostess's post. The restaurant occupied a glass bubble that clung to the side of a hotel in downtown Springfield. She had chosen it for its openness and its brightness, and would have actually preferred to have been there in daylight. Unfortunately, what with work and transportation, her men couldn't meet her for lunch unless they took the whole day off. She couldn't blame them for not doing that. They didn't know her name, or whether they would like her in the least. They didn't know if she would even show up.

She didn't know if they would, either, but the drive from Grannick to Springfield was an easy one, and if she was stood up, nothing but her ego would know it.

So the rationale went. It was seven o'clock, the very time she was to meet the marathoner for supper. Not dinner, supper. She had made that clear. The Sunflower specialized in salads and sandwiches. Anything heavier would have entailed more of a commitment, not to mention taking longer. If the marathoner turned out to be a dud, she wanted a fast supper and a faster escape.

There he was. She knew instantly. He had said he was tall and slim, and he was slim, indeed--to the point of gauntness. Not that he was ugly. Just very angular.

He approached her. "I was told to look for someone holding a rose." Page 170

Barbara Delinsky - Together Alone

"You found her." She extended her hand. "My name's Celeste." His hand was knobby. "Craig."

It fit him. She moved toward the hostess. "Did you have any trouble finding the place?"

"No. I've run races in Springfield."

"Ahhh. Two, nonsmoking," she told the hostess. During the walk to their table, Celeste cursed whatever impulse had made her do this. She hated small talk, hated awkwardness, hated first dates. But first dates led to second dates, which weren't so bad. Not that she thought she would have a second date with Craig. Gut instinct told her he wasn't the one.

Maybe gut instinct was wrong. She supposed she could sit through supper and see.

They sat down at the table. "You're very pretty," he said in a straightforward, almost factual way that took something from it.

"Thanks." She tried to think of something to say back on the same vein. All she could come up with was, "So you're a marathoner. How many have you run?"

"Seven." He listed them, along with his times for each, along with the winners, the first-runners up, and notable also-rans.

"Ahh," she said. She smiled and turned to her menu. "They make a wonderful chicken Caesar here."

"I don't eat eggs."

"No, no, I'm talking salad."

"Caesar dressing contains eggs."

She wanted to tell him that the roll he was reaching for did, too, but she didn't want to sound snippy. So she said, "Take anything in moderation, and you'll do fine."

"I newer eat eggs."

She closed her menu and set it aside. "What do you eat?"

"Complex carbohydrates.

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