Finding Isadora(34)

“Richard’s father won’t let that happen.”

“This is the hot guy, right?”

I winced. “I never should have told you that.”

“That means you still think he’s hot.”

“I’m losing my mind.”

“Hey, Izzie, it’s like that cupcake store down the street, eh? You can walk past and stare in the window, but it’s not a problem unless you succumb and dash inside and buy everything in sight.”

“I’m definitely not going to succumb. I mean, not that he’d want me to, or anything.”

“You don’t figure he thinks you’re hot, too?”

I shook my head quickly, then winced again. “Well, maybe, just a little. He has this weird, intense way of looking at me. It makes me feel, I don’t know, all tingly. No-one’s ever looked at me that way, so probably I’m reading it wrong. Maybe he’s just thinking I’m totally wrong for Richard.” Thinking of my fiancé reminded me… “Hey, I didn’t tell you our news. Richard and I are going to look for an apartment and move in together.”

She squealed with delight. “Ooh, I’m so envious! Tell me all about it.”

“I’d love to, but I’m due back at work.”

Glancing at her watch, she said, “Yikes, how did it get to be so late?”

Hurriedly, we left the restaurant, then, just as we were saying our goodbyes, she snapped her fingers. “Knew there was something I forgot. Martin Swallow and I talked on the phone and we’re going to have coffee on Saturday and discuss tutoring.”

“That’s great, I hope it works out for both of you.”

* * *

I was working the evening shift on Thursday when a golden retriever came in with what’s commonly known as bloat. Hers was a serious case requiring fairly complicated surgery, and Felipe, one of the other vets, assisted me.

The operation went well, but I decided to spend the night at the clinic so I could monitor her condition. The couch in our break room was a pullout, which we used for just this purpose.

For the rest of the night I alternated between the couch and the recovery room, and by morning was feeling satisfied about the golden’s progress. We’d keep her another day or two under close observation, then she could go home.

When Martin came in on Friday morning, I said, “I’m going to run home for a change of clothes. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Sure you don’t want to trade shifts with someone?”

“No, I’m fine.” I’d slept in cat-naps and actually felt quite rested.

At home, I’d just finished showering when my cell rang. It was Richard, checking to make sure we were still on for dinner. “There’s something I’d really like to talk to you about,” he said.

“Seen an apartment?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Oh, have you talked to the mother about the boy, Eric?”

“Not yet. Look, let’s talk tonight, okay? I can’t go into this now.”

“Sure.” Curious, I hung up.

I was so busy at the clinic, I soon forgot my curiosity. But, at the end of the day, as I dashed the few blocks to Sala Thai on Burrard Street, I remembered our earlier conversation and wondered what was on his mind.

Richard was already there, and to my surprise he’d ordered a bottle of red wine and was well into the first glass. Both of us liked wine but usually we only shared a half liter, except in times of crisis.

I leaned down to kiss the top of his head then seated myself. As he filled my wine glass, I studied him. He wore the usual office garb of suit, pale shirt, and conservative tie. A lot of women found men in suits attractive, but to me it was a rare man who looked anything other than boring in a suit.

A rare man like Gabriel. A man who was half-panther.

Even though I didn’t care for suits, I had to admit that, in yesterday’s lunch-time fantasy, the husband who’d been looking for his briefcase was wearing a suit. I did, after all, want a man with a successful career. Besides, when Richard came home from work, he usually changed into jeans, and he looked good in them.

Good. Whereas Gabriel, in jeans, looked hot. Damn. Why did Gabriel keep intruding into my thoughts?

Guiltily I brought my attention back to Richard, to find him studying the menu assiduously. He always ordered beef with oyster sauce and broccoli here. Was he thinking of trying something different tonight? Maybe even vegetarian?

But when the waitress in her lovely Thai costume came to our table and softly asked if we were ready to order, he shoved at his glasses and said, “Oh, uh, the beef with oyster sauce and broccoli.”

When I’d placed my own order for pad thai—rice noodles with shrimp, tofu, egg, bean sprouts, and peanuts—I said, “Something’s on your mind. What did you want to talk about?”

He picked up his wine glass, drained it, then refilled it. My own glass was half empty but Richard, usually so attentive, didn’t even glance at it to see if it needed topping up. Nor had he waited for me to order dinner first, as he typically did.

A shiver of anxiety moved through me. Was something seriously wrong? I picked up my own glass and took a sip.

“It’s about Gabe,” he said abruptly.

Oh god, had he picked up on my bizarre attraction to his father? “Your father?” Nervously I took a bigger swallow.