“Jesus,” Maggie muttered as the other car drove off in an angry zip. “Now it really makes sense.”

Once Claire’s heart had resumed a steady beat and they had escaped the parking lot, she was calm enough to ask, “What makes sense?”

“The clothes, the contacts, the makeup, your asking for the name of my hairdresser.” She counted off on her fingers. “Oh, and the two-car collision we nearly had because you’ve got your head up your ass.”

Claire sniffed, not appreciating Maggie’s description. “What are you talking about?”

Maggie nodded thoughtfully, looking so world-wise as she flipped down the visor and checked her heavily applied makeup. “You’re gettin’ some.”

Claire could only shoot a puzzled sideways glance at her friend, expecting her to finish the rest of her sentence.

Getting some of what?

Maggie must have sensed her confusion. “God, you’re dense. You know.” She slapped Claire’s arm good-naturedly. “Some,” she emphasized in heavy, exaggerated tones, waving her hands widely in front of her.

Understanding dawned, and Claire choked, “I am not!”

She hadn’t gotten “some” in years. Eight years, actually. Not since Brian—the guy she had thought was her one—dumped her for a twenty-one-year-old waitress, who, according to him, made him feel like a real man.

“Well, then.” Maggie fluttered her hand as if it were a small distinction. “You’re planning on getting some.”

Claire shook her head, at a loss for words. It occurred to her that Maggie was exactly the type of girl her mother had kept her from hanging out with in school.

“Hey, I’m not judging. I’m a firm believer in sex. Just ask any of my ex-husbands. Abstinence is unnatural.”

Face hot, Claire argued, “Maggie, I’m not—”

“And if that fine specimen back there in the Jeep is a candidate, I say go for it.”

Claire was not planning on getting anything with anyone. Especially not with that lunatic.

But as she pulled up in front of the bagel shop, she couldn’t help wondering.

And that was totally unlike her. She simply didn’t wonder about those things. Never had.

And maybe the more important question was—Why now?

CHAPTER FIVE

Uncharacteristic behavior is a plea for attention; be sensitive to your dog’s needs.

—Man’s Best Friend: An Essential Guide to Dogs

Claire dove onto the couch and hunkered low, peeking above the couch’s back to look out the salon’s glass-tinted windows.

“Er, can I help you?”

She glanced over her shoulder. A young, beautifully coiffed receptionist angled her head and looked at her with startled, blinking eyes.

Claire turned back to scan the parking lot, dotted with the random assortment of vehicles for a slow Tuesday afternoon, and answered over her shoulder, “I have a five o’clock appointment with Terry.”