“Lucy, you’re avoiding me.”
I wanted to say No shit, Sherlock but I pushed back the urge. Maybe I could kill this guy with kindness. Being pissy didn’t have any effect.
“Professor Schultz. It’s so nice to hear your voice again.”
“All evidence to the contrary, Miss James. You never return my messages so it can’t be that nice.” His deep voice hummed through me like a radio frequency. For a man who had done-me-wrong, he was working hard to turn the tables. No dice.
“I wanted to let you know that I’m going to be in Reno to give a lecture at the Art Museum. I was hoping that you could attend or if not, we could meet for dinner afterward.”
“Because our last dinner was so great,” I responded sweetly.
He laughed. He really, honestly and truly laughed. What a nerve!
“You have a good sense of humor, Lucy, since on our last date—actually, our first and only date—we ended up at the hospital when you slammed your finger in my car door.” He paused. “Then we found a dead body at the museum.”
“You remember the scenario well, I see.”
“…Well, it was certainly unforgettable, that’s for sure. And I’d like to make up for… um, the disappointing way our less-than-successful adventure ended.”
It was my turn to chuckle. “Would that be when we were getting cozy at your place and your girlfriend called?”
“Lucy…”
“Because that’s how I remember the ‘adventure’ ending.” I blew out a chilly breath with my words.
“I’ve tried to explain many times that she wasn’t my girlfriend.”
“So why did you say that she was your sister when I asked?”
His voice squeaked a bit. “…I panicked, okay? Allison and I had broken up before I flew out with the art exhibit and it was a little… past relationship residue.”
“Past relationship residue? Never heard that one,” I smugly added.
Neither of us spoke for a few moments. He patiently tried again. I had to give him points for tenacity. Why hadn’t I hung up?
“Where were you just now?”
“Why?”
“I bet you were off investigating something.”
“How would you know that?” I scrunched down in my seat, darting a wary glance out the windshield.
“Because you’re so curious, Lucy. It’s one of your best features.”
A few pretty words and I could feel myself weaken. Buck up!
“I’ve got to go, Eric.”
“Dinner? Please? How about tomorrow night after my lecture? Pretty please with sugar on it?”
“Well…”
“I’ll meet you anywhere you say, except for the cafeteria at the hospital,” he laughed. “Been there, done that. And with no car, no finger in the car door.”
“I get your logic.”
“So? How about it, sister of Sherlock?”
I softened like a stick of butter in the microwave. “Okay. The steakhouse at Harrah’s but be prepared. I’m arriving late.”
I could hear the smile. “Seven o’clock at Harrah’s Steakhouse tomorrow night. See you there, cutie.”
I hung up without saying goodbye. He’d gotten what he wanted and I’d folded like a pup tent. Huh… Where was my spine? Apparently, I’d left it in my apartment next to Baskerville’s water bowl. I started the car and headed for home, a frown definitely parked on my face until another section of my brain made my lips curve slightly. Hmm. A date. A date with Eric, the Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike. Then my logical side said, ‘At least he’ll be paying for the meal.’ Sometimes I hate being so logical.
* * *