On his third attempt to find where the blasted woman was registered, Zeke connected with a clerk at Seaport House who agreed to leave a message for Ms. Stafford. The man added that Grace generally returned to the hotel around four oclock.
Zeke checked his watch and saw that hed wasted more than half a day already, between boating out to her salvage site and digging around the courthouse. He suggested meeting in her hotel lobby at 5:00 p.m. There were any number of casual restaurants within walking distance of her hotel. Zeke had no idea what her preference might be in food. Damn, he was rusty at this, and he hated feeling inept.
Hoping he hadnt stammered so badly that the clerk considered him some kind of demented loser, Zeke hung up and stormed back to his pickup.
Revving the engine, he headed home to dress for what would surely be the worst evening hed spent in heaven only knew how long.
CHAPTER TWO
OF ALL THE POSSIBILITIES that ran through Zekes mind between 4:45, when he rushed off, leaving his mom for the second time that day to deal with a crying child, and exactly 5:00 p.m., when he arrived in the lobby of Seaport House, not one of them was that Grace Stafford would flat-out ignore his request to buy her dinner. Not just ignore, either. When he gave his name, a smirking clerk said, Yes, sir, we delivered your message. Ms. Stafford wadded it up and tossed it in the trash. Right in that bin. The skinny dude blinked behind owlish glasses and took pleasure in showing Zeke the relevant waste container.
Drumming his fingers on the counter, Zeke hesitated only briefly. Wheres your courtesy phone? If she hasnt gone out, Ill just have to change her mind.
For a minute, Zeke wasnt sure the clerk would direct him to the phone. He wanted to ask what the guys problem was, but maybe he hankered after Grace Stafford. Yes, it was possible. Zeke wanted to tell the man that he, Zeke, wasnt competing in the romance department over some loser whod go out in public in that horrible frog bathing suit. But he held his tongue and crossed the lobby to a house phone the reluctant clerk had pointed out.
Zeke listened while it rang and rang. For a minute, he wondered if the clerk was stonewalling him by ringing an empty room. Just as he was about to hang up, a breathless woman answered. Hello.
Ms. Stafford? Zeke gave her a moment to catch her breath.
Yes, she returned hesitantly.
Its Zeke Rossetti. We met out in the bay today? I represent Kemper Oil Explorations.
Oh! I, ah, received your message. Im sorry if you made a trip into town for nothing. Really, theres no need for us to meet. I wont be persuaded to give up searching for my grandfathers plane. And as I only recently got to my room, Ill say goodbye. You interrupted my shower. Im dripping all over the carpet.
Zeke followed her stilted, choppy responsewhich in essence told him to buzz off. He envisioned the soggy woman hed glimpsed earlier, now resembling a sunburned prune and the image left him unable to speak for a moment. Sensing she was going to hang up, Zekes sluggish brain connected with his mouth. If you just got in, that means you havent eaten. My employers springing for dinner. Isnt that a fair exchange for listening to our side?
The silence went on so long, Zeke grew tense. If I recall, Ms. Stafford, you offered to let me look over your permits. Why not have dinner at the same time? There are plenty of good restaurants nearby.
Zeke heard her swift intake of breath. We can walk to a restaurant? What did she think, that hed drive her to the bay and drown her?
Sure thing. Ill even let you choose. Were early enough to get in almost anywhere without a reservation.
All right, then. But Ill need fifteen more minutes. And its your city, so you choose. Exceptnowhere fancy, please. Divings hard work. In the evening I prefer casual and relaxed.
Works for me. Ill wait in the lobby, Ms. Stafford.
Uh, if were dining together, perhaps you should call me Grace. And your name isZeke. Correct?
Yes. As his name fell softly from Grace Staffords lips, shivery fingers of an almost forgotten anticipation marched up Zekes spine. His well-conditioned reactions kicked in, however, and slammed on the brakes. Tonights meeting with this woman was business. Zeke wanted it kept on that level. Clenching his teeth, he said, Ill wait. Fifteen minutes. He didnt care that he probably sounded rude.
After hanging up, he sat in an easy chair and sorted through the Dallas newspaper someone had left on a coffee table. Zeke fully expected her fifteen minutes to stretch into half an hour. In his experience, a woman needed at least fifteen minutes to dig through her closet. And twice that to apply makeup.
He was pleasantly surprised when, ten minutes later, the elevator bumped to a stop across from where he sat and opened. Out walked Grace Stafford. Zeke almost didnt recognize her. The hair hed seen in a soggy ponytail that had reminded him of a dead rat now curled in a reddish-gold halo around an oval face. She wore khaki slacks and a peach-colored blouse that complemented the golden tan she was beginning to acquire. No prune effect, after all. Shed tucked the blouse into the narrow waistband of her slacks. She also carried a shoulder bag and a dark-brown sweater, which told Zeke she was aware that Galveston evenings near the waterfront were cool this time of year.
She approached him the same way shed spoken on the phone, tentatively.
Zeke rose at once and set the paper aside. Wow, he exclaimed. That didnt take you long. I didnt mean to rush you, Ms., uhGrace. Rattled, Zeke buried his hands in his pockets and clinked his loose change.
You didnt. Im starved, and I assumed you must be, too, after working all day.
Zeke realized he was famished. As she halted beside him, her light fragrance, reminding him of spicy cinnamon, shot straight to his stomach. And suddenly, the prospect of sharing a meal with her held more appeal than hed ever imagined it would. Up close, he saw shed worked a little magic on her previously sunburned nose, too. Her soft freckles knocked Zeke off kilter enough to have him stammering, Howahwhat would you like to eat? He shuffled to his other foot and withdrew a hand from his pocket long enough to rake it through hair he suddenly discovered needed cutting.
But Grace barely glanced at him. She grew thoughtful as they moved toward the door. Really, Id rather defer to you. I must admit I havent taken time to check out whats available. Im not here on vacation but to find my grandfather Dugans plane. Ive been grabbing whatever fast food is handiest.
For a whole minute there, Zeke had forgotten their purpose in eating together. Brought back to earth, he held open the door to let her pass. Still, I need to know what your idea of a satisfying meal is.
When Grace shot him a puzzled glance, he shrugged and blurted, Are you a woman who picks at a salad and claims shes full, or do you eat real food?
Grace laughed, and Zeke noticed that it changed her into a different person. She had a mouth full of pretty white teeth. And he realized he hadnt noticed her lush pink lips before. Natural. No artificial color. Some guys were leg men. Some ogled womens butts. Zeke gravitated toward a kissable mouth. Unfortunately, Grace Stafford possessed one.
At the moment, Zeke was trying hard to shake off his attraction and dismay. He needed to hear what she was sayingand he had to ignore that tinkling, delightful laughter.