Page 71 of Perfume Girl
“I’ll be glad to see you eat. When was your last good meal?”
“I eat well enough.” She rolled her eyes. “You probably think I’m a mess. That shoe incident didn’t exactly inspire confidence.”
“I admire you.”
She gave me a rueful smile. “Why?”
“There’s no pity party being thrown. I see a woman who will find a way to get back on her feet in no time.” I lowered my gaze. “You provided a demonstration minutes ago.”
She glanced at her feet. “Sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“Grace under pressure. I think you could handle anything. Or anyone, Raquel. I’m looking forward to revealing more of your skill set.”
“Oh?”
“Anything you want to share?” I waited for her to answer.
“Not really, no. Why?”
“You just seem a little unsettled.”
“I really liked those shoes.”
I remembered the uncomfortable expression on her face as she’d looked around her old laboratory. That scale on the floor was out of place. She didn’t strike me as someone who’d treat her equipment with disrespect. Or maybe she’d snapped from the pressure and beneath that serene demeanor was someone on the edge.
I leaned back. “What I’m interested in knowing is what lengths you’ll go to.”
“For my store?” she whispered. “I’m doing okay.”
Pulling out my phone, I opened up the browser and typed in Perfume Girl, searching the recent headlines all the while pretending to read a text. “I’ll only be a second,” I reassured her.
“Of course.” She buttered her bread roll. “You probably don’t get a day off.”
The news article was on the second page of the Google search, and I selected the header that took me to an online article in the Dunedin Weekly. Apparently,her store had sustained a break-in a week ago.
Someone had thrown that scale to the ground. Someone had tipped their hand, and this was as much about greed as it was an emotional strike. Even more startling was the fact that Raquel had not mentioned it.
My gaze rose to meet hers. “Red or white wine?”
“I’D LOVE A CHARDONNAY.”I couldn’t look at him.
I was afraid he’d see how conflicted I was because I was enjoying his company, and yet I’d inserted myself into his lab for one purpose only.
If it wasn’t for that ultimate goal, this would be the date of my dreams—though Astor had made it quite clear this evening was strictly business.
I was still inwardly cringing over the fact he’d discovered I was living at my shop. It was considerate of him to rescue me, but it made my situation more complicated. If Astor was innocent, he’d remember this evening and end up feeling betrayed on the deepest level. Either way, all of this was temporary and as wonderful as it was to spend time with him it wouldn’t last.
Wewouldn’t last. Even losing him as a friend would hurt more than it should.
The waitress interrupted my dark musing when she turned up with a glass of wine. Astor declined to drink as he was driving. I took a large sip of chardonnay, and when I saw him watching me I took a calming breath and quickly thanked him for bringing me here.
Astor had chosen a lovely restaurant with a spectacular view of the harbor and its row upon row of yachts, their tall masts reflected dreamily in the water. A cool breeze blew in from the ocean and the dark clouds in the distance told me a storm was brewing. At some point it would rain tonight.
“What are your thoughts?” he asked softly.
“I know we won’t be going back to Havana together,” I admitted. “But I had a lovely time.”
“When we made love?”
