The calamity Janes by Sherryl Woods Page B

for this non-date dinner?”
    “Tony’s,” she said at once. Maybe Gina would bethere. She could offer additional insights into the kind of person Sue Ellen had been when they were growing up.
    “The Italian place on Main Street,” he said. “Great lasagne.”
    “Better pizza,” she countered.
    “Are we going to argue over that, too?”
    She gave him a faint smile. “More than likely. I’ll see you there. Give me an extra couple of minutes to check in on Caitlyn and let my parents know I’m going out.”
    “I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
    “Forget the wine. It might loosen my tongue.”
    “That’s the whole idea,” he said with an unrepentant grin.
    “Make it coffee.”
    “Whatever you say, Counselor,” he said with a jaunty salute.
    If only, Emma thought as she watched him drive away.
     
    When Ford spotted Gina Petrillo coming out of the kitchen at Tony’s, he understood why Emma had picked this particular restaurant. She’d wanted backup. Was that because she was afraid of what she might say about Sue Ellen and Donny Carter? Or because she felt—and feared—the same sizzling awareness that had aroused him? Did it even matter? The bottom line was that they were going to be well chaperoned.
    Gina greeted him with a smile. “I’m filling in for Tony, and the waitress is on a break. Are you here for dinner?”
    “Of course. Tony must really rate, if he can lure you into substituting,” he said.
    “He got me into the restaurant business,” she told him. “So, are you here alone or are you expecting someone?”
    “Actually, your friend Emma will be joining me,” he said. “How about that booth over there? It looks fairly private.”
    Gina studied him with a penetrating look. “You intending to whisper sweet nothings into Emma’s ear?”
    “Nope. This is an interview, not a date,” he said, dutifully reciting the ground rules.
    Gina grinned. “Your choice of words or Emma’s?”
    Before Ford could answer, she said, “Emma’s, I imagine. I really need to have a talk with her. What can I bring you to drink?”
    “Red wine for me, coffee for her.”
    “Two red wines,” she corrected.
    “As long as I don’t end up wearing that second glass,” he said, chuckling at her audacity.
    “Blame it on me. She’d never toss it at a friend, especially once I explain to her that wasting a perfectly good wine is a sin.”
    Gina had delivered the two glasses of wine and retreated to the kitchen by the time Emma arrived. She scowled at him.
    “I thought I made myself clear about the wine,” she said.
    “You did,” he agreed. “To me, anyway.”
    “What does that mean?”
    He nodded toward the kitchen. “Your friend had other ideas.”
    “Gina?”
    “She’s subbing for Tony tonight.” He studied the guilty flush on her face. “Which you were hoping for, right?”
    She didn’t answer. He took that for a yes.
    “In that case, drink your wine. I promise if you get wild, I’ll drive you home and never print a word about it.”
    “As if I’d believe that.”
    He frowned at her. “Is it me you distrust, or all reporters?”
    “All media,” she said succinctly.
    “There must be a story there.”
    “If there is, you’ll never hear it from me,” she said, then lifted her glass in a mocking toast. “Not even if I drank the whole bottle.”

Chapter 6
    D inner turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. Maybe it was the warm glow Emma was feeling from the wine. Maybe it had something to do with the way Ford seemed to hang on her every word without taking notes. He’d sworn to her that he’d let her know when the conversation shifted from casual chitchat to a formal interview. Not that she wasn’t very circumspect all the same, but she had begun to relax just a little.
    It had been a long time since she’d had dinner with a handsome, intelligent man who wasn’t a business colleague. As long as Ford talked about sports and theater and books, she could almost convince herself that this