Page 12 of To Steal a Heart

She blinked in surprise. “Me too.” She’d gone to San Francisco and stayed with a friend from college while writing a novel that took place in wine country. She fell in love with the city and eventually bought a condo.

He lifted an eyebrow. “San Francisco? You sound like you’re from the South.”

“Good ear. I’m originally from North Carolina.”

He looked pleased. “Thought so. What took you to San Francisco?”

She dreaded opening up about herself. Before she could fully process what she was doing, the words slipped out. “I’m an aspiring writer.”Liar, her conscience shouted. Hadn’t she just thought earlier that she had no patience for pretense? Then again, would it hurt to downplay her accomplishments? It would be nice to be judged by her own merits … to be plain ole’ Arden Chasing. She nearly laughed at the thought. Okay, there was nothing plain about the Chasings.

“Ah, that’s neat. Are you writing anything now?”

“I’m mostly doing research.” At least she’d been truthful about that. “What do you do?” she blurted before he could ask her anything else.

“I’m an architectural consultant.”

He went one way. She went another. He stepped on her foot.

“Oops. Sorry about that.” He offered a sheepish grin.

“No worries.” Other than the one misstep, he was a decent dancer.

“Let’s go through the full sequence,” Marissa said loudly. “We’ll do this a couple more times and then call it a night.”

A burst of pleasure ran through Arden at the thought of Crew being her last partner.

His eyes sparkled in a lighthearted challenge. “Can we do it without messing up?”

She laughed. “I guess we’re about to find out.” She could do the steps in her sleep.

They glided fluidly through the dance moves as if they’d done them a thousand times.

“You’re pretty good,” Arden observed. She liked the feel of his hand holding hers and the pressure of his other hand on her back as he maneuvered her.

He grinned and ducked a little under the praise. “So are you.”

Crew’s shy demeanor was endearing. It helped to downplay his extraordinarily good looks, making him more approachable. A lock of hair fell over his glasses. He flicked his head to push it back.

“In which part of the Bay do you live?” he asked.

“Glen Park. What about you?”

“The Mission District.”

“The trendy art section. Nice,” she drawled. “Are you an artist?”

He laughed easily. “Not in the slightest, but I’m an admirer of the arts.” A lopsided grin slid over his lips. “The street tacos sealed the deal.”

She grinned. “The Mexican food is outstanding in your neck of the woods.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“What?”

“Neck of the woods.I hear the Southern coming out.”

“I’m afraid it’s imprinted on my DNA,” she joked. She was curious to learn more about him. Time was ticking away. She needed to get her questions out fast without sounding like an interrogator. “What brought you to Carmel?”

“I’m consulting on a new home that’s going up in Sea Haven.”

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