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“Oh, but it’s a great shop. They sell all kinds of vintage — ”
Van looked dazed, but gathered himself together and barreled right over Mary’s voice. “Mr. and Mrs. — ” Confusion flitted across his face. “Never mind. You two will help with this maneuver. We’re getting this young woman up and covered up. When I swing her to her feet, stand right behind her to block the view that way while I put her into my suit jacket.”
“It’s Kazinski.”
Van glared Mrs. Kazinski into silence. “I’ll count to three. Here we go. One, two, three — ”
A bit of Mary’s coat remained intact in front. She wouldn’t think about the back.
She pulled what she could together and clutched one arm across her middle while stretching out her other arm. Van had her on her feet in one nanosecond and wrapped up in another.
“It’s about time,” Mary said when she could catch her breath again. “This has taken so long the least you can do is work with me.”
“Ithinkshe’sright,youngman,”Mrs.Kazinskisaid.
Van shook his head, more as though he needed to clear it than say no again.
He gathered himself together. “Let’s go back to the beginning, to a simple stroll, walking our dogs in the park. They met, and we met. I’m Francis Van Deventer. Some people call me Van.”
“Under the circumstances, I’ve decided I’m one of them. I’m Mary Samuel. I write the Movers, Shakers and Makers column for the Toronado Today website.” She crossed her fingers so her present tense wouldn’t count as a lie.
For a moment he looked impressed. Rightly so. Everybody in town read that website. And her column. Or did.
Marycouldn’tthinkaboutthatnow.“It’sapleasure to meet you.”
Oh, what a pleasure it was. A dangerously ginormous pleasure. Except that he knew she was in very unprofessionallingerieunderhercoatandhisjacket. Unless even her lingerie was gone because it had caught fire in the spontaneous combustion engulfing herbody.Howdidpeoplekeeptheirsanitywhenthey felt like this? Maybe they didn’t. She was in love. She was sure of it. Nobody ever said that was sane at any time, much less when the affliction struck on first encounter.
She’d rather think she was just excited about the book she wanted from him.
If she had fallen in love at first sight — okay, first sniff, even though it didn’t have the same ring to it — if she’d been struck down from one second to the next, like all the other women in her family, her ancestral curse was already operating too. The end of this love affair was beginning, right now.
No. She wouldn’t think about that now.
She started to reach out to shake Van’s hand. She jerked to a stop when his jacket and her coat threatened to gape open.
“Yes. Well,” he said. “It’s been a — pleasure — to meet you. You’ll understand if it’s one I don’t care to repeat. You’ll find a card in my jacket pocket. Leave the jacket with the doorman at the address on that card.” He clicked his fingers and gathered his dog’s leash. “Come along, Lancelot.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, you’ll understand — ”
“No,” Mary said, “I mean, what did you call your dog?”
“Lancelot.”
“Ohhhh.” Mary could hardly believe what she’d just heard.
“Don’t tell me there’s a problem with my dog’s name. I mean, my aunt’s dog’s name.”
“You might think so,” Mary said.
“I might think what?”
“You might think there’s a problem with the name of your aunt’s dog.”
“I don’t intend to think the name of any dog is a problem,” Van said.
“But my dog is Guinevere. Yours is Lancelot,” Mary said. “What we have here are two of the greatest star-crossed lovers in history. What if they don’t give up this time?”
