Donna Lee’s was a small but always busy breakfast-and-lunch diner in the heart of the city, and Joe showed up bright and early. A table had been reserved for him, by Mike, of course. The server led him there. Though Joe would’ve been happier to sit at the counter with the early-morning work crowd drinking coffee and chowing down his eggs. They were the folks he felt the most comfortable with, the ones he represented, people on their way to jobs that kept the city alive. The everyday employees and small business employers. The last thing he needed was a reserved booth separating him from them.
“Thank you,” he said to the middle-aged woman, Mandy, as he took a seat in the booth meant for four, feeling a little foolish. She wore a super short silver haircut and dangly blue-beaded earrings, most likely made by her. They’d talked about her love of crafts on other occasions. Today the place was bustling and there was hardly time for pleasantries, let alone a real conversation. Dressed in the restaurant uniform, a dark blue polo shirt with the diner logo above the pocket, she left the menu and promised coffee was on the way. Leave Full or Blame Yourself, the logo said in large letters across the back of her shirt.
The booth was by the front window, so he gazed outside and watched the early-morning activity on Main Street. It made him smile. Joe quietly shook his head, sure as ever Mike had meticulously arranged where he should sit for the best photo op this morning. Taking care of every detail, as Mike always did as the campaign manager. Limelight was the guy’s middle name.
The place had been remodeled a few years back, and all the old pink Formica tabletops and black-and-white tiled floors were replaced with wood. The tables were highly varnished, and the floor planks were pre-distressed, giving the place a rustic and comfortable appeal. He liked it, and also noticed the new cushion on the upholstered booth seat was already worn down from constant use.
Thinking of Mike and his implicit instructions, Joe looked around the nearly full-to-capacity diner, nodding and smiling pleasantly at anyone looking his way.
As promised, Mandy came back and filled his coffee cup. He’d spent so much time looking around the packed diner and out the window that he’d forgotten to look at the menu she handed him. Then, midpour, his old friend showed up.
“Mike, what a surprise,” he said, droll as could be, knowing Mike understood.
“Couldn’t let my best friend eat alone,” Mike said, waving over the photographer from the Little River Valley Voice and asking the server to stick around for an opportunity shot. She didn’t look comfortable with the instruction.
Joe cringed inside. “You don’t have to, Mandy.”
“Not crazy about pictures, but for you, Joe, I will. I mean Mayor Aguirre.”
“Just Joe. And thanks.” He wasn’t crazy about opportunity shots, either, but went along with it for the sake of his campaign, and his pal. As always, he had to think of the bigger goal.
Once that was over, she blushed with the honor of getting her picture in the paper, then waited patiently while they quickly read the menu before taking their orders.
“Ah.” After a slurp of his black coffee, Mike said, “So I got an interesting message this morning.”
“And does this message involve me?” Joe also took a sip and had to admit the diner made great coffee.
Mike gave his signature full-toothed grin, thick cheeks accentuating his dimples. “These days everything involves you. You, my friend, light up my life.”
“Stop with the bull—”
“Okay,” Mike broke in before Joe could be heard swearing in public. “Ever hear of Dreams Come True?”
“Is it a song?”
Mike gave a pointed and mocking stare.
Okay. “Can’t say I have.”
“Well, it’s a nonprofit that grants wishes to people. Like the Make-A-Wish Foundation, except this one is for senior citizens.”
“Okay.” Joe waited patiently for the full explanation.
Mike took another drink of coffee, building suspense as only he could, the steam circling his long nose. “Apparently a senior citizen has made a wish involving you.”
“Me?” Joe scrunched up his face just as the newspaper photographer flashed another shot. So much for the staged photo. In his gut, Joe suspected this one, the caught-off-guard picture with his mouth open, would run in its place. Though that could be one way to figure out if the city rag supported him or her. As yet, they hadn’t come out with a statement. “What did they wish for?”
“Got to call the woman back to find out, but it must involve you, right?” Mike jumped up and headed outside, evidently deciding there was no time like the present to find out.
Joe looked at his watch. 8:05 a.m. He doubted anyone would take the call at this hour. His breakfast got delivered, and rather than wait for Mike, he dug in, letting Mandy know immediately how great the Denver omelet was, and asking her to tell the chef, as she refilled both the coffee cups. She smiled extra sweetly at him, and thankfully, the photographer from the booth across the way took another picture. At least this one wasn’t staged.
By the time Mike returned, Joe was nearly done with his breakfast while Mike’s sunny-side-up eggs had gotten cold.
“Great news,” Mike said, not caring about the state of his eggs and digging a piece of toast into the first yolk. “You, sir,” he continued dipping the bread, yellow goo dripping off the sourdough, “are on the bucket list of a sweet eighty-four-year-old named Savannah Schuster.” Only then did he shove half the toast in his mouth and chew, letting his supposedly earth-shattering news sink in.
Mike was ever the one for dramatic effect. Joe grinned inwardly but kept a serious expression while motioning for Mike to dab drippage from the corner of his mouth with a napkin and waiting for the rest of the story.
Mike explained every detail that the woman named Evangelina DeLongpre from Dreams Come True had described over the phone. Joe sat silent, wondering what this had to do with the campaign.
“Don’t you see? This is exactly what you need.” Mike leaned in and lowered his voice. “That shot in the arm you so desperately need right now. A senior citizen wants a date with you. It’s priceless.”
“And this will help how?”
“An adoring senior citizen from our very own town believes in you and longs to spend an evening with you. Did I mention she has early dementia and time is of the essence?”
“Do you seriously think this is a good idea?”
In short order, Mike had managed to demolish his breakfast. “The best idea,” he said, mouth covered by the napkin. He pulled his usual pregnant pause by taking a last quaff of his coffee. “This will show your compassionate side. I say ‘show,’ which is really important. It’s putting action to your words. We know you care about senior citizens. I tell people, you tell people, but this will show you in action. Imagine. You taking this little old lady out for an evening she’ll never forget.” He realized his error in exaggeration quickly. “I mean, it will be the biggest night of her life since turning eighty, and you can’t take that away from her, even when her memory goes. Got it?”
Joe inhaled. “Let me think about this. It feels a little too much like a stunt. I don’t want to come off that way.”
“It’s only a stunt if we orchestrate it.”
Joe tilted his head, eyes narrowing, weighing the difference.
Mike’s thick brows lifted. “Okay, think about it, but just until the end of the day. It’s important that we act soon. And as your campaign manager, I’m advising you to do this.”
“I’ll let you know this afternoon,” Joe said, standing and leaving a big tip before taking the bill to the cash register to pay. As he turned to leave the diner, one last camera flash blinded him before he stepped out into the full-on sun.
Later in the day, after speaking at the local high school PTA, Joe planned to get some personal work done. No sooner had he sat down at his desk than he got a call.
“Mayor Aguirre, I’m so glad I caught you in your office,” Eva DeLongpre said after introducing herself.
Lately his normal law office had become a madhouse because it doubled as campaign headquarters. It wasn’t ethical to use the mayor’s office for reelection purposes, which was probably why she’d called him here and not there. Normally, several of the locals, mostly high schoolers and town moms, plus a few senior citizens, volunteered to take his calls so he could attempt to get personal work done. Apparently no one had been scheduled today.
He crinkled his nose, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake answering the phone for his missing volunteer. Uh. “I like to help out when I can,” he said.
“I was hoping by now Mr. Machado has spoken to you about the request from Dreams Come True?”
Ah, the date! He pinched the bridge of his nose. “As a matter of fact, he has, and I think it’s a great idea.” Keep it humble. “Though I can’t imagine why Ms. Schuster picked me.”
“You remind her of Jack Kennedy.”
The comment stopped him. The great President Kennedy? “Really?” In what way? He suddenly had a hundred questions but no time.
“Yes. You’d make Savannah a very happy woman if you’d agree to the date. She’s been newly diagnosed with dementia, as you might know, and with the anxiety about her future and all, well, let’s just say you’d be a wonderful distraction for her. One evening. One memorable meal she can hold on to until...”
“Until it’s gone. I understand.”
“She’s a good lesson on living in the moment, and right this moment, she’s asking for you.”
“Because George Clooney is busy, I take it.”
Her lilting laugh surprised him. He liked it.
“On the contrary, you were her first and only choice.”
“Well, then.” His father had always taught him, when speaking to people, to not talk about himself, but to turn the conversation around to the other person. “And how did you get involved in granting wishes?” Man, he sounded like a politician.
There went that inviting laugh again. “Professional wish-granter. I should add that to my business card.” She paused. “I guess you could say I’ve always wanted to give back to my community.” Then she sighed. “Truth is, I’ve had it pretty good all my life and wasn’t sure I deserved it.”
She sounded sincere enough with the honest answer. “That’s commendable. And your background is?”
“Business major in college. A minor in psychology. A nonprofit seemed a good fit.”
“Yes, I’d say so, too.” His BS-ometer had yet to register. There was a genuine quality to her conversation, but he still wasn’t ready to commit. “Well, give me a little more time to look over my calendar, would you please, Ms. DeLongpre.”
“Of course, and please call me Eva.”
“Okay, Eva, I promise to get back to you before the end of the day.”
They said their goodbyes, and something about her soft-spoken voice lingered in his head. Something nice had just gone on, and it had been a long time since he’d “noticed” such things. He almost smiled, but his long-term companion of mistrust in all things female beat him to the moment. Instead, he hitched one side of his mouth. “Hmm. I wonder what her real angle is?”
Before making his decision about whether to agree—or not—to what he sensed could be perceived as a publicity stunt, he went online.
First he went to the Dreams Come True website and read their mission statement. The nonprofit appeared to be serving a noble cause for senior citizens, no doubt about that, with many folks having had significant requests met. Savannah’s wish seemed trivial in comparison, except for the fact she knew she had dementia and would lose her memory in due course. If it meant that much to her to have dinner with Joe, why shouldn’t he do it?
Then Joe clicked on the staff and singled out Evangelina DeLongpre. Wow. She looked a lot like Lacy Winters, Zack Gardner’s fiancée. Maybe they were related? Though Eva’s red hair was pulled back into some kind of knot. Her eyes, which were perfectly made up, were striking. They were blue like tinted crystals, almost unreal. It was obviously a touched-up professional headshot, and he wasn’t going to get carried away by her beauty. In his experience, looks were always deceiving.
He read her biography. Just what he didn’t need in his life, another spoiled rich girl. This one playing philanthropist. She’d hinted about her privilege on the phone, but it hadn’t brushed him the wrong way then. Maybe because she sounded a little guilty about it?
No doubt he had a jaded view of that type of woman thanks to his past. Briefly he castigated himself for labeling Evangelina because of Victoria Harrington but ran with his thoughts anyway. Evangelina hit all the criteria for SRG, from her name to where she grew up—affluent Hancock Park, Los Angeles—to where she went to college—East Coast Ivy League, Dartmouth. Both prestigious and expensive. He knew the breed well.
He’d had his fill of such types in college, after falling in love with one. All he’d wanted was to please her, to make her happy. She’d liked the sex just fine, but remained aloof, no matter what he did or how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to tear down her wall. Meanwhile, he’d confused love with worship, the worst possible combination with a woman like Victoria. Nothing he did was good enough. No achievement great enough. And she seemed to take pleasure in letting him know.
To this day he hated the fact he’d been helplessly in love with Victoria. After a long and messy breakup, she’d crushed him, leaving him thinking he simply wasn’t good enough for her and never could be. Being honest, even today, he was still trying to prove to her, and anyone like her, that they were wrong. He didn’t need money or status. He was worthy as he was. Keep repeating until you believe it.
“Money doesn’t equal worth,” he said quietly as he dug deeper into Evangelina DeLongpre’s history. Her mother, Bridget DeLongpre, had been the real estate agent to the stars in Los Angeles in the 1990s and into the early 2000s and onward, only recently retiring. Eva was most likely a trust fund baby who probably never had to work a day in her life. Yet, unlike Victoria, who embraced her privilege with everything she had, Ms. DeLongpre had started a nonprofit. To help others. That was completely different than Victoria, who’d gone on to marry a neurosurgeon. From what he’d read in the Santa Barbara newspaper society section, the only charity Victoria dealt with was planning balls for the rich and famous. A tiny voice wondered if she even knew he was the mayor of Little River Valley.
Who needed the aggravating and humiliating reminder?
Old resentment got the better of him and he wanted to think the worst of Eva, simply because of Victoria. He needed to let it go and think reasonably. Prove he’d moved on, if not emotionally, at least professionally.
Eva DeLongpre had chosen to work. As much as he wanted to resent her, the fair play side of his brain wouldn’t let him. But he’d certainly be on the lookout for any clues if he decided to go along with Savannah’s wish.
He scrolled through the list of seniors that Dreams Come True had helped. Each person had been given a wish they could never pull off on their own, and many of those wishes had been quite amazing and costly. Savannah came to mind with her simple and, if he wanted to be honest, sweet wish to spend the evening having dinner and drinks with a man she respected and felt—Joe begged to differ with the description—was handsome. He’d never think of himself that way.
Rugged, maybe.
That got him laughing at himself. Rugged. Seriously? “This is ridiculous,” he said to the computer screen. So he shut down the website.
He wasn’t in the rich girl league, for sure. He was nearly forty years old, barely making ends meet on the personal level, trying his best to rationalize spending his small retirement fund on the reelection campaign. Why did he do it again?
Because his constituents needed him, not that Louella Barnstable!
And here was one free and huge campaign booster falling right into his lap. He needed to put his personal objections aside. What was the harm? Besides, it was high time he forgot how he loathed spoiled rich girls. He could do that for one night in order to make a sweet little senior lady happy. Couldn’t he?
He picked up his cell. “Call Mike,” he instructed.
“Yo!” His best friend answered on the first ring.
“Okay, let’s do it. How soon can you set up the dinner date?”
On Friday afternoon Eva tried on a third dress, this one black, with a boatneck, cap sleeves and a classic form-fit to midknee, and made a slow turn for Lacy. “Think simple string of pearls and black three-inch pointy pumps?”
“Nice, but if it were me, I’d go with the first one, the peacock blue that fits like...”
“A condom?” Eva blurted a quick laugh as Lacy blushed. They’d already figured out how their upbringing had made them different. Hometown vs slick city girl. “Not the message I want to send! Which is exactly why I’ll wear this.” Eva preferred to think she’d evolved to sophisticated.
“I get that the dinner is granting Ms. Schuster’s wish, but...”
“Which is why I want to stay in the background. I’m nothing more than a facilitator.” She reached behind and unzipped herself. “The only reason I’m going is because of Savannah’s early dementia.” She slipped out of the dress, her mind made up. “Never thought I’d be a chaperone for an eighty-four-year-old.”
“I love your job!”
Eva put her knuckles on her waist. “I love your job!” At times like this, what she’d give to drive a bright pink food truck for one day, just to see how it felt. But then, of course, she’d also have to know how to cook.
Lacy stepped closer and hugged her sister, then they stood side by side and looked in the mirror. Eva in a skimpy slip, Lacy in jeans and a pale blue cotton top. Same height, only five pounds of disparity between Eva and Lacy, who had the rounder hips and slightly fuller breasts. They studied each other in the mirror for a few seconds.
“All those years I knew something was missing, and now here you are, my other half,” Eva said, more content than she’d ever been in thirty-one years. That is, after she’d gotten over the shock of discovering she was a twin.
“And I’m the only person in the world who knows exactly how you feel about that.”
Looking into her sister’s face, Eva was granted the gift of knowing how she looked to other people when she smiled. Still, she bet Lacy’s smile was brighter, less cautious. More beautiful. Because she loved her twin.
Stinging eyes were the price of times like these, the good kind of tears, yet Eva didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing her double.
“Okay.” Lacy was the first to speak, wiping at her lashes. “Be yourself tonight. You can trust Joe. He’s one of the good ones.”
“I feel like you’ve told me that at least a dozen times.”
“I’m just thinking it wouldn’t hurt for you to find a man, someone like Joe, for instance, who also hasn’t found the right person yet. Mainly because he’s as busy as you are.”
“I get it, I get it. But this is a professional event, nothing more.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Lacy toed the plush rug. “When opportunity knocks...”
“He’s a mayor of a small town taking the opportunity to shine for his constituents. Nothing more.”
“And I’m just saying, maybe look beyond that because he’s also a good man. Quality over fortune. That’s my point.” Tired of playing with the plastic blocks, Noah crawled over and Lacy picked him up.
Eva pulled on a loose mustard yellow sweatshirt. “Are you accusing me of being snooty?”
“Never. But most of us have no idea what it’s like to grow up rich.”
“Trust me—” Eva put a leg into her designer jeans, then the other “—it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.”
Lacy gazed at Eva’s overstocked closet to make an obvious point. “Mmm-hmm.”
“Borrow anything you’d like, anytime.” Eva used fingers to put her hair back in place in front of the closet door.
Lacy rolled her eyes and Eva caught her through the mirror. “I know, Ms. Cleavage, the dresses might be a little snug, but Zack would love it. In fact, borrow the peacock blue one! Knock the man over the head!”
Lacy’s cheeks turned pink. “We’re pretty darn great in that department without your help, thank you very much.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She turned to face Lacy. “All I have to do is see how he looks at you.” Eva stared down her sister, wondering what having a relationship with a man like that might be like. Her experience in relationships had been mostly the kind nightmares were made of. “You’re one lucky woman.”
Lacy took the moment and savored it, all the while holding a squirmy Noah. Eva saw the light bulb go off. “Now we’ve got to find someone for you.”
Eva shook her head, the thought of ever opening her heart again scaring the breath out of her lungs, sorry she’d brought up the subject of happy relationships. “Not a team effort. But thanks. I’ll get by.”
“I know it’s hard with a baby and work, but I’ll babysit whenever you want.” Lacy glanced at Noah and pretended to pinch his healthy cheeks. “Right, sweetie? We love spending time together, huh.”
“Like tonight.”
“Yup.”
“Except tonight is business only.”
“Right. Is everything packed up for him?”
“Yes. And I can’t thank you enough. It should be an early night. We’ve hired a limousine and a driver. You can expect me before ten.”
“Okay. He’ll be fast asleep in the portable bed in our guest room. He could spend the night just as easily, you know.”
Eva gave a dead stare.
“Okay. Just use your key and let yourself in.”
“Will do.”
“Good luck tonight!”
Eva’s stomach fluttered remembering her reaction while talking to Mayor Joe Aguirre the other day. The man seemed genuinely nice. Why did tonight feel like such a big deal?
Eva rapped on door twenty-three in the peach-colored hall of the assisted-living facility, having the distinct impression this was what hotels were like in the 1950s. Except each apartment was individualized by the tenant. Some had fake plants out front, others, glass cases with memorabilia from their lives. One even had a round-back wicker chair to sit in, as though on a porch, and people sat in hallways all the time. Other doorways were less ornate. Savannah’s had a large dog statue outside with a small flowering houseplant on the canine’s flattened head.
Yipping and scratching came from the other side of the door. Some small creature obviously wanted to tear Eva apart.
“Nipsey. Quiet!” came from inside in a surprisingly strong voice.
Eva was glad she hadn’t worn nylons, or they’d be about to get shredded by what sounded like an ankle biter. The door was opened by a white-haired woman, and a dog effortlessly leaped over the woman’s foot, meant to guard the animal from getting out. “Hello, I’m Savannah,” the woman managed to say as the dog barked louder, escaping into the hall. Eva stepped back.
“Nipsey, stop that!” Savannah said, as if the dog had never done such a thing before. Which Eva soundly doubted. Intent on sniffing everything below Eva’s knees, Nipsey ignored its master.
Eva kept moving away from the ever-advancing dog. “Is your dog a biter?”
Savannah glanced at Eva as if she’d grown a second head. “No. Nipsey just gets excited.” She bent down in a surprisingly limber fashion and scooped up the short-legged white-and-brown terrier. “Come in.”
With trepidation, Eva did. The small apartment smelled of yesterday’s cabbage or bell peppers and was decorated exactly as she would expect for a grandmother type. Sturdy dark tables, an overstuffed love seat with one matching chair and blue plaid upholstery that had seen better days. Marty Bell—or was it Thomas Kinkade?—cottage paintings framed in dark wood covered the walls. The dog continued to bark and had now added growling to the repertoire.
“So is Nipsey a boy or girl?”
Savannah let the dog down and it jumped around in a circle like a wind-up toy, as it showed off with the escalating barking. “A boy. A hyperactive and funny boy. Aren’t you?” she said to the dog. “Sometimes he kills me.” She focused back on Eva. “I named him after the comedian.”
Absolutely nothing came to mind. Had there ever been a comedian named Nipsey?
“Kind of a play on words. Because he’s a Jack Russell terrier. Get it?” Savannah waited for Eva to guess. The answer didn’t come. “You know, Nipsey Russell,” Savannah prodded.
Eva couldn’t help the blank expression.
“Come on, the man used to open for Sergio Franchi in Vegas and was on The Dean Martin Show all the time. You never heard of Nipsey Russell?” Savannah eyed Eva suspiciously as though they no longer inhabited the same planet. Even though she’d helped to make the wish come true, Eva had a hunch she’d moved down the scale of respect a few notches in Savannah’s eyes. “You’re very young.” Savannah seemed visibly disappointed. “Probably never heard of Hollywood Squares, either.”
“Oh, that I’ve heard of.” Eva sounded relieved and proud even to herself, but she secretly credited late nights as a new mother pacing with a fussy baby while watching retro TV. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had a clue. She glanced at her watch; it was time to move things along. “So, Savannah, it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I must say you look lovely.”
The woman’s expression changed from baffled-by-someone-who’d-never-heard-of-Nipsey-Russell to abundantly pleased. “I haven’t gotten this dolled up in a decade.” She patted her beauty salon comb-out that showed distinct outlines of curler marks, all sprayed into place.
“Well, you look beautiful.”
Savannah wore what qualified as a grandmother-of-the-bride outfit for an afternoon wedding. A teal-colored chiffon dress with a sequin-and-lace three-quarter-sleeved coordinated jacket. Accessorized with large costume jewelry earrings and matching necklace, most likely crystal. Oh, and a bracelet, too, Eva realized when Savannah scratched her nose in response to the compliment. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. And it’s so nice to finally meet you in person.” Nipsey had quieted down and Eva dared to take a step closer to clutch and shake Savannah’s cool and bony hands.
The woman looked into Eva’s eyes, emotion swirling around in her cloudy gray orbs. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“You are so welcome. Dreams Come True is honored to grant your wish.” Eva wrinkled her nose, fighting off misting up.
“And it’s a good one, too!” Savannah went on, her eyes brimming. She let go of Eva’s hands to rub her nose, sniff, then noticeably toughen up. All business again. “Joe Aguirre seems like a throwback in time. A good-guy politician who is willing to roll up his sleeves and work for the people of the community, not only for himself. Not to mention he’s a fine specimen of a man.” She made a hubba-hubba face. “He not only reminds me of Jack Kennedy as a politician, but Sergio Franchi, the handsome Italian singer. Have you met Mayor Aguirre?”
After tonight, Eva needed to google the Italian singer from yesteryear to compare. “Not yet, but we’re going to take care of that tonight, right?”
“I feel like Cinderella.” Savannah clapped her hands together. “I’m so nervous. I can’t wait!”
“Well, our car and driver await. Shall we go?”
Savannah bent to speak to Nipsey. “You be a good boy while Momma’s away, you hear me?”
The dog yipped and did its twirling bit again. It made Eva smile, and she had to admit the dog named for a comedian from the last century was cute.
Everything was arranged. Joe Aguirre had agreed to meet Eva and Savannah at the Four Seasons Santa Barbara resort restaurant. As arranged, he’d take a cab over, so later the chauffeur would drive, and Joe could walk Savannah to her door at the end of the evening.
As the driver helped Savannah—who hadn’t stopped talking the entire ride—out of the small limousine, Eva scanned the area for any guy in a suit. Her eyes stopped abruptly on a striking man who resembled the pictures she’d seen online but who seemed more like—just as Savannah had described—a throwback in time.
Those pictures didn’t do him justice. A quick shudder made her breasts tighten. Must be chilly, she rationalized the reaction.
From the distance, he grinned and casually waved. Then he started walking over in that slim-cut charcoal suit with a narrow dark tie, très European, with thick black hair begging for fingers to dig in. She suddenly wished she’d taken Lacy up on her suggestion to wear the peacock blue dress that fit like a...
A completely different image sprang to mind. Baffled by her full-body response, she tried to shut it down, but prickles started at the sides of her neck, first tickling downward and then working up toward her jaw. In a second, her cheeks would be in full blush. Tonight wasn’t about her, it was Savannah’s big wish.
Joe walked arrow-straight to Savannah and took her hand, kissed it, then glanced into her eyes and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, with that rugged voice Eva had picked up on the other day on the phone. Though, if he’d had a thick Italian accent, she would have bought that, too. His words said, as if he’d just said that to her while kissing her hand, not Savannah’s, Eva got a little dreamy-eyed. Wow, talk about charm.
Snap out of it! You’re the chaperone and tonight’s all business. Eva homed her gaze back to the guest of honor, while noting her mouth had gone dry. That was one powerful greeting.
When he pulled the bouquet of flowers from behind his back with a grin, his olive complexion made his teeth sparkly white. The guy was nothing short of a dreamboat. No wonder the guest of honor was so smitten with the man.
Under Joe Aguirre’s complete attention, Savannah Schuster was all aflutter, the former chatterbox now tamed, and the image warmed Eva’s vicariously palpitating heart.
He offered his arm and Savannah took a breath, straightened her shoulders, then slipped her arm through his, having calmed noticeably, assuming almost a regal air as they strolled toward the entrance.
Hadn’t Lacy said something about Joe being quality over fortune?
And if that was how Sergio Franchi smiled and behaved with women, Eva was suddenly his biggest fan.