She was so engrossed in his stories that when she finally checked her watch, she saw that it was one-forty-five.

“Oh Sam, I’ve got an appointment at two.” A stockbroker was coming in to test-drive a S600 sedan, and she couldn’t be late.

They hurried out of the restaurant, and Sam had her back at the dealership with minutes to spare. Even though her customer was due to arrive any minute, Marjorie was reluctant to get out of the car. She turned to face him, her hand on the door handle, wanting to tell him so many things and not knowing where to start.

“Thank you, Sam,” she said softly. That seemed so inadequate. “It seems I’m always having to thank you for one reason or another. Have you noticed that?”

“No,” he answered evenly. “Besides, I should be the one thanking you.”

“It was only lunch.” And she owed him so much more than a simple meal. He’d given her another argument when the tab arrived, but she’d won. She realized now that it probably would have been better if she’d let him pay, male pride being what it is.

“Next time it’s my turn.”

Marjorie was outside the car before his words registered. “Right,” she answered, and her smile broadened.

He waved. “Bye, Marjorie.”

“Bye, Sam.” She waited until he’d driven away and was out of sight before she entered the dealership.

No sooner had she stepped onto the showroom floor than Lydia appeared. “Where in heaven’s name did the two of you take off to? You’ve been gone for hours! Where’d you go? Did he ask you out again? I told you he was interested. Remember what I said?”

“We went to lunch.”

Lydia nodded approvingly. “I bet he took you to a fancy place on the waterfront for lobster.”

Marjorie had a difficult time containing her amusement. “Actually, I treated him at The Lindo.”

“That Mexican place you’re always bragging about?”

“The food’s wonderful.”

“And you paid?”

“I…I told him I do that with all first-time car buyers.”

Lydia’s frown relaxed into a soft, encouraging smile. “Hey, not a bad idea.”

“He said he’d treat next time.” Marjorie cast her gaze longingly toward the street. “Do you think he’ll phone?” She hated feeling so insecure, but more than anything else, she wanted to see Sam again.

“I bet you ten dollars he calls by tomorrow.”

—

Lydia lost the bet.

Two days later Marjorie had chewed off two fingernails and was quickly becoming a nervous wreck. She’d never been a patient person, and waiting for Sam to contact her was slowly but surely driving her crazy.

“You aren’t going to sit still for this, are you?” Lydia said over lunch.

“What other choice do I have?”