“They’re phone numbers of women I don’t know. It’s the car. Women feel compelled to leave their phone numbers on it.”

“How odd.”

“Yeah. Sometimes it gets even odder.”

The ride home was quiet, giving Daisy time to think about the notes impaled on Steve’s windshield wipers. It wasn’t the car that drew women, she thought. It was Steve.

Most likely those women had seen him park or perhaps drive down the street. Not only was he drop-dead handsome, but he radiated sexual attraction. It was almost impossible to sit across from him and keep her mind on things like ice cream and radio broadcasts. Watching him eat had been torture. He had a great mouth, she’d decided. Nice full lips but not at all feminine. Probably he was a terrific kisser, probably she wouldn’t mind test-driving his lips. She gave herself a mental head slap. Daisy, Daisy, Daisy! What are you thinking?

She was a quiet overachiever who was going to spend the rest of her life counseling senior citizens. Steve Crow would find her boring beyond belief. And she was sure she’d find him overwhelming. Steve Crow belonged with a hot pink, hot-pants type of woman. Daisy ran more to well-washed denim. Besides that, he was her boss.

It was dark when Steve parked in front of Daisy’s town house. The subdivision wasn’t exactly run-down, but it wasn’t spiffy either, he decided. The houses were small, mostly brick and he guessed about twenty years old. It was a modest neighborhood with small front yards overrun with azaleas and impatiens. Maple trees shaded slightly neglected lawns. Roots snaked beneath sidewalks, causing them to shift and crack. It would be a childless neighborhood, Steve thought, inhabited by singles, newlyweds, and seniors. Families required more space, more yard. Families lived in the nearby subdivisions of colonial houses that had spread like a heat rash through Northern Virginia.

Okay. Steve thought. This is it. This is where I get to make a move. Casually but suggestively slide my arm across the back of the seat. Give her the never-fail little smile. Slight devilish sparkle in my eye. No, wait a minute, not the sparkle. The sparkle isn’t sincere. I should look sincere. Smoldering, maybe. Let her know how I feel right up front. No, that’s not right either. If she knew how I felt, she’d probably leap out of the car and run for cover.

Suddenly the front door to Daisy’s house crashed open, and Kevin came flying out, followed by a big black dog. Kevin spotted the car, ran up to it, wrenched the door open and jumped in, pushing Daisy over the gearshift, squashing her against Steve Crow. Kevin slammed the door just in time to shut out the dog. The animal snuffled at them through the window and licked the glass.

“Hi,” Kevin said. “Have a nice dinner?”