Kitabı oku: «Bewitched», sayfa 5

“What the hell’s wrong with your cat?”

Harry smiled fondly at his pet. “That’s Ted. He doesn’t like females.”

“Ted? How’d you come up with that name?”

Shrugging, he said, “He’s just Ted. Here, use this chair.”

Cautiously, keeping her gaze on the cat, Charlie circled to the chair Harry held out. “Is he always so mean?”

“With women, yes. He behaves well enough for me. Or maybe I behave well enough to suit him. Whatever, the arrangement works.” Harry smiled at her.

“The dogs don’t bother him?”

“Actually, they all get along fairly well. On his first day here, about a year or so ago, Ted explained things. We haven’t had a real ruckus since.”

“You’ve only had him a year? He looks older.”

“He is. I found him in an alley while I was on a job. He saved me by making a grand distraction when he objected to our invasion of his private space.”

“He threw a hissy like he just did to me?”

“Exactly, which effectively distracted the fellow who’d been holding a gun on me. I was able to…get the upper hand. So I brought Ted home. The vet treated him, despite Ted’s vicious complaints, and as long as I keep him well fed and his litter box clean, he doesn’t destroy my home.”

“A fair enough trade-off, I suppose.” She still eyed the cat warily, but Harry was pleased to see there was no dislike in her eyes. She understood, and he liked that.

“Cream or sugar?”

She snorted at such a suggestion, then took a healthy sip of her black coffee.

Harry scrutinized her as he liberally sweetened his own. “So you drink yours like a trucker, hmm? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

After another sip, she asked, “For the same reason that seeing you turn yours into syrup doesn’t surprise me?”

“Your insults are getting sloppier. You must be tired.” He glanced at the clock, saw it was after midnight, and wondered if he should call Dalton after all. He hated to wake the older man if he’d already gone to bed. And Dalton did know Harry could take care of himself, so perhaps he hadn’t been worried at all. “Is your sister appeased by whatever story you told her?”

She frowned at that. “I told her the truth, and yeah, she’s appeased, but far from happy. She told me she’s going to wait up for me.”

Charlie offered that last small tidbit with a wince, which told Harry the night was going to get a whole lot shorter. “I assume this means you want to head home soon?”

“I’m afraid so. Jill is only eighteen, and she worries more than she should.”

That brought out a snort, which appalled him. Good God, he was beginning to pick up her less discriminating habits. Harry cleared his throat. “More than she should? With a sister who muddles into extortion and gets herself kidnapped, I’d say she’s justified.”

Charlie shrugged. “She wants me to give it up, my spying that is, but I’m determined.”

“Charlie—”

“No, before you start any lectures, I have a few questions for you.”

“Please, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I know you said you wouldn’t want to see me again—”

Before he could correct her, because at this point he had every intention of seeing her, all of her, as many times as was necessary to get the fever out of his system, she held up a hand and continued.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get clingy. A little hanky-panky would have been…nice. But the night has gotten way too complicated, and I can see why you wouldn’t want to get involved with me beyond the night. I mean, we’re hardly two peas from the same pod.” She tried a smile that looked more like a grimace. “But… Well, I was hoping we could work out a different arrangement.”

Harry leaned back in his seat, positively prostrated. “You think a rendezvous with me would be merely nice?”

She looked startled by his tone. “Very nice,” she clarified, as if that made it better.

He felt smote to his masculine core. Here he’d been dredging up pagan images too erotic to bear, and she’d relegated the possibilities to merely nice. “I’ll have you know—”

“I’d like to hire you, Harry.”

That effectively put the brakes on his righteous diatribe. Hire him? Did she consider him a gigolo? Did she dare think she could afford him if he was for sale? The nerve.

But in a lusty sort of way the idea genuinely appealed to him. His body tensed until his muscles cramped. He was so hard, he could be considered a weapon.

Carefully, in case he misunderstood, he asked, “Hire me for what?”

“Detecting, of course. What else would I mean?”

Disappointment flowed through him. Nevertheless, he contrived to look merely curious. “Of course. And what would you need a P.I. for?”

“I told you.” she said with exaggerated patience. “To find out information on my father. He abandoned my sister and me ages ago, and that’s fine by me because from what I know of it, we were better off without him. Except now I think it’s time he accepted a few responsibilities. I figure since your friend has hired you to look into the extortion, and my father is one of the proprietors in that area, it shouldn’t really be too much trouble for you to find out a few things for me.”

A sick feeling of dread started to choke him. He remembered their most recent introduction, when she’d given him her last name. His belly churned, and he forced the question out. “Your father is?”

“Dalton Jones.”

CHAPTER FIVE

HARRY STARTED TO choke, picked up his coffee to take a large gulp, then choked some more. Coffee spewed out his nose and Charlie jumped up to pound on his back with surprising force. The cat hissed and loped out of the room. Harry fumbled for a napkin, and while Charlie tried to drive his ribs through his chest, he cleaned his face.

“You okay?”

Wheezing, he said, “If you’d quit bludgeoning me, it’s possible I’ll survive.”

She quit. In fact, her small hand opened, and rather than pounding, she smoothed her palm over his back. Harry stiffened. “What are you doing?” he asked carefully.

“You feel nice. Hard. And real warm.”

He started to choke again, and Charlie reseated herself. “That was the strangest damn thing, Harry. I’ve never seen coffee shoot out someone’s nose before. And it was still steaming.” She looked vaguely impressed when she added, “That had to hurt.”

“You frightened Ted, attacking me that way—”

“Yeah, right.” She gave a hearty snort. “Nothing would scare that beast.”

“—and you don’t sound the least bit sympathetic, so just be quiet.” His brain throbbed not only from her interested, caressing touch, but with ramifications of her admission. Dalton Jones, his best friend, the man who’d always been there for him, emotionally supported him, got him through his divorce-from-hell, was Charlie’s father? And she didn’t appear to have any fond feelings for the man. No, she literally sneered when she said his name, leading Harry to believe her feelings bordered more on contempt than anything else. Harry dropped his head to a fist and sighed.

“Sheesh. What’s got you so all-fired dejected, Harry?” She lounged back in the chair, at her leisure. “If you don’t want the job, just say so. It’s not like I was trying to coerce you or anything. I just thought since you’ll be checking things out there anyway, it’d be no big deal to let me know if you heard anything.”

Feeling himself duly cornered, Harry sighed again. “Let me get this straight. You want to get reacquainted with your father?” It was a shock, but Dalton would certainly be thrilled. Harry knew he’d spent a good portion of his life chasing after his ex-wife, doing his best to locate his children, to reclaim them, but the woman had always eluded him for reasons of her own.

Charlie bristled like an offended porcupine. “Hell no! I personally don’t want anything to do with him. And if I had any other choices, he could rot for all I cared. But…well, my mother passed away not too long ago and between her never-ending medical bills and the funeral, I’m flat broke. I need some cash to get my sister through college. The bar is mortgaged through the roof, and I can’t handle another personal loan.”

Harry started to tell her that Dalton would gladly help her in any way he could. But he held back. It wasn’t his place to make promises for Dalton, so he decided to talk to him first. Besides, Charlie’s attitude was less than promising, and explaining away the past was a chore Dalton could better handle.

Still, Harry felt he had to soften her just a bit, to perhaps suggest she modify her assumptions until the facts could be presented. “I’m sorry to hear about your financial difficulties, but—”

Her fist smacked the tabletop, causing him to jump. “Why should my sister have to settle for less than the college of her choice, just because my father was too low, too deceitful to own up to his responsibilities? Why should he get off leaving the entire burden to me…I mean, my mother?”

Harry heard the slip, of course, but he let it pass. All he knew about Charlie’s mother was what Dalton had shared, and he imagined from what he’d heard, Charlie’s life hadn’t been an easy one. That had been one of the biggest motivators for Dalton, the main reason why he’d refused to give up the search. He’d worried endlessly for the well-being of his daughters.

The dogs chose that propitious moment to want in, giving Harry a few minutes to think. He automatically went into his laundry room first to get an old towel, then opened the back door and knelt down. The dogs, well used to the routine, waited while Harry cleaned their muddy paws.

Charlie gawked at him. “Do you do that every time they go out?”

“When necessary, yes. I have fastidious dogs.”

“Gee, I wonder where they get it from?”

There was just enough sarcasm in her tone to tell Harry she was nettled. Very slowly, he looked up at her. “You’re not, perchance, making fun of my animals, are you?”

Her brows lifted.

“Because while I’ll accept aspersions thrown at me, I don’t take kindly to insults of my pets.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re defending an old collie, a mutt and an alley cat?”

His eyes narrowed and she muttered, “All right. Sorry.”

She didn’t look overly sincere. In fact, she still looked angry. Well, there was nothing he could do about it, not yet at least.

Harry reseated himself. Sooner lay on the floor, resting his head on Harry’s feet. Grace went to her dish to eat. “Perhaps your father has a legitimate excuse—”

“Ha! If he does, then he can damn well keep it to himself, because I’m not interested in hearing it. Years ago I might have…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. Sooner stared at her, picked up on her distress, and abandoned his master to go lick her hand. Charlie smiled and scratched his head.

After an audible swallow, she continued. “All I want to know is if he’s got any money, if I can count on him to do the right thing. He owes it to my sister to help her, to give her the opportunity to do her best in this world.”

Harry saw her stubborn pride, her visible struggle to keep herself together. Something inside him softened, and that tender feeling made him uneasy. “What about you? Doesn’t he owe you, too, Charlie?”

She stared him straight in the eye and said, “If it was just me, I’d gladly survive in the gutter with the moldy rats before giving him the time of day.”

Well. Harry leaned back in his seat, nonplussed. She certainly had a visual way of getting her point across. “Things aren’t always as they seem, you know.”

She stood, and both Grace and Sooner flanked her. “If you don’t want to help out, that’s fine. But spare me the lectures on goodwill. My charitable attitude died a long time ago.”

She turned away and the dogs followed, forming a small parade. Harry felt abandoned and left his seat to hurry after them. Since his legs were so long, he only had to hurry for two steps. “Where are you going?”

“To call a cab. It’s time for me to head home.”

“Charlie.” He caught her arm and turned her back around to face him. But she looked up at him, and her face was so innocent, despite her bravado, her eyes dark and searching, he felt that damn tender feeling swell up again. It seemed to explode inside him, filling him up, choking him when he hadn’t even touched his cursed coffee.

He released her and backed up. The dogs frowned at him, but with the facts of her parentage dropped at his feet, all carnal tendencies would have to be forgotten. He couldn’t see her as a sexual being, as a woman he wanted so badly his muscles ached. No, she was the daughter of his friend, a man who’d always been like a father figure to Harry. Touching her would mean betraying Dalton, and he couldn’t do that.

Charlie was definitely off-limits.

That little truism annoyed his libido and gnawed at his control, but he stiffened his resolve.

He shook his head, verifying to himself, if not to her, that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, be tempted. Not now. “I’ll drive you home. You can’t very well get into a cab alone this time of night, especially not dressed like that.”

She summoned a look of such scorn, he felt his ears burn. “I know how to take care of myself, Harry. I’ve been doing it most of my life. You can rest easy. Your duty is over.”

He looked down his nose at her, being deliberately intimidating, which sent the dogs slinking off, though the effect on her seemed minimal. “Your shoulders are too narrow to support such an enormous chip, Charlie. No, don’t flog me with your insults. I am taking you home and that’s all there is to it. Since I’m of a greater size, and you’re rather piddling in comparison, it stands to reason I’m more capable of carrying through with any threats, veiled or otherwise. It’ll be better for both of us if whatever you’re thinking remains unsaid.”

She rolled her eyes. “Half the time, Harry, I have no idea what the hell you’re saying.”

“And…,” he added, knowing he was jumping into a muddy creek when he had no idea how deep it might be, “I will check into things for you.”

There, he’d committed himself. But even as he’d reluctantly uttered the ill-fated words, Harry wondered what else he could possibly have done. He couldn’t just let her leave; Dalton would never forgive him. He’d looked for his children, spent a small fortune on the chore, for a great many years. Now here was his daughter, despising Dalton without knowing him, resenting him on hearsay, condemning him without knowing all the details, and Harry had the chance to find out where she lived, to assure Dalton that his daughters were alive and thriving.

He thought of everything at stake, and added softly, “Please, Charlie.”

It was the “please” that did it, causing the rigidity in her shoulders to relax, her attitude to soften enough that she could agree. “Oh, all right,” she muttered, without an ounce of feigned graciousness. “I suppose it doesn’t make sense to give up what I want just because I’m pissed off.”

She was certainly direct. “Ah…exactly.” He retrieved her jeans and found her another jacket to keep her warm on the ride to her place. They both said goodbye to the dogs, who wanted badly to go along but Harry explained to them there wasn’t room. “Just guard the place until I come home.”

The dogs went back to sleeping in their self-appointed spots.

Ted was nowhere to be found.

“He sulks when it’s dark,” Harry explained, “because more than anything, he likes lazing around in the sunshine. When there is none, Ted hides. Which is good, because when he doesn’t hide, he makes his discontent known to everyone.”

Charlie gave him a soft, feminine look that took him completely off-guard. “You’re very good to them, Harry.”

He didn’t like that look, didn’t want her thinking soft, feminine things about him, not when he couldn’t do anything about it. So he hustled her out to the parking garage where he kept his car before temptation could get the better of him, or before she could start disagreeing with him again. She truly was a most contrary woman.

He worried about her being barefoot, but he certainly had no shoes that would stay on her small feet, and she’d disdained the socks he offered her. Luckily, the complex was kept tidy, with nothing strewn about the grounds to injure her tender skin. No broken glass or debris.

She had very cute feet.

“You know, Harry, I figured you’d left your car at the grocery today.”

Distracted from her pink toes—hardly a source of sexual stimulation, even if his body tended to disagree—he looked up at her and made a face. “My car wouldn’t have survived three minutes parked at that curb. I took a taxi. What about you?”

“The bus. Cabs are a little out of my price range.”

As he stopped next to his car, a shiny black Jaguar convertible, she dug in her bare heels, stiffened up again, and whistled low. “These are your wheels?”

“Yes.” He noticed her horrified expression and patiently asked, “Now what’s the problem?”

She turned to him, beautiful blue eyes wide, jaw dropped. “I can’t afford you! First that luxury town house, and now this. You must make a killing as a P.I. to afford this car. I mean, these suckers go for over fifty grand a pop!”

Her phraseology alternately amused and irritated him, but her meaning was always quite clear. After another heartfelt sigh, Harry opened the door and practically thrust her inside. “Put on your seat belt.” He closed the door, circled the car and slid behind the wheel.

Her frown was ferocious. “I mean it, Harry. We need to reevaluate here. I thought it’d cost a few hundred bucks at the most to get your help. I had no idea—”

The car started with a throaty purr. “I’m not charging you, Charlie.”

He was in the middle of backing up when she opened her car door and literally leaped out. He slammed on the brakes. “What in the name of—”

She leaned in and growled across the seat, “I don’t take charity, Harry Lonnigan!” He opened his mouth, and she said, “And before you bother sighing again, let me tell you, this is not negotiable!”

Since Harry had lost all semblance of patience, he barked, “Fine. Have it your way. But a few hundred will more than cover it, so get your sweet little posterior back in the damn car!” He ended on a shout, and shouting was something Harry had seldom done since his divorce. He liked it that way, liked his life calm and orderly, dished up to his specific design, without interruptions and disturbances and ill-mannered females throwing things into a whirlwind and stirring up unaccountable lust.

He sucked in a deep breath, sought for lost control, and continued in a forced icy-polite tone, “I have inherited money from my father, and that’s how I bought the car. Now, will you please quit making a spectacle of yourself and let me drive you home?”

She gingerly reseated herself, as if the leather seat could bite her. She also looked around the garage, then snorted at him. “I can hardly be a spectacle when there’s no one here to see.”

“I’m here, and your show is beyond distressing. A little decorum wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

She relatched her seat belt, then waited until they’d entered the nearly abandoned roadway before saying, “So you come from a rich family, huh? I could have guessed that.”

Harry looked at her with acute dislike. His father had been rich, and he’d also been unfeeling. He’d given Harry very little during his life, certainly no real emotion or pride or concern. Taking his wealth after his death had been beyond difficult. At first, all Harry’d wanted to do was give it away. But Dalton convinced Harry to accept his father’s legacy, to acknowledge and use the one thing his father had been capable of sharing.

He didn’t discuss his father with anyone but Dalton, certainly not with a woman he’d only known a day, a woman who seemed to take pleasure in pricking him, both his mind and his body. “You’re an irritant, Charlie. Now would you like to give me directions or should I try guessing?”

“Go to the corner of Fifth and Elm. You can see my bar from there. It’s called the Lucky Goose. There’s a big sign hanging out front, painted in lime green.”

That description alone was enough to make his stomach queasy. “You must be joking.”

“Nope.” She sent him an impish smile and added, “Lime is the dominant shade in our decorating scheme. Not too long ago, I had to replace several things, and I found a lot of stuff at an auction, real cheap.”

“Whenever something is ‘real cheap,’ there’s usually a viable reason why.”

She laughed. “You’re right about that. The lime is almost enough to make you toss your breakfast, especially with so much of it. But the men who frequent my bar aren’t out for the fashionable ambiance. They’re there to drown their supposed woes, and as long as they have a stool to sit on and a glass in front of them, they can forgive anything else. And to be real honest with you, the color’s kind of grown on me. I figure if I ever get far enough ahead, I’ll add some black accent pieces. That’d look good, don’t you think? Sort of classy? Black and lime?”

Harry shuddered with the image. I’ll tell Dalton how witty Charlie is, how spunky, how energetic. I’ll simply leave out her appalling lack of taste. When she continued to stare at him, waiting for his response, Harry forced a smile. “Yes, charming.”

She beamed at him.

“Tell me about your sister.”

“What about her?”

“I don’t know. Anything, everything. Does she help you in the bar, things like that.”

Charlie turned to look out the window. “Jillian just turned eighteen. She’s beautiful, so intelligent she scares me sometimes, sweet, giving. She’s also naive and a worrier.” Charlie turned back to face him, her expression earnest. “And no, I would never let her work in the bar. That’s why I need the money so she can go to college. She’s gotten some partial academic scholarships, but not enough to foot the whole bill. If I left it up to her, she’d put off going for a year and save the difference herself, and even then, she’d have to settle for a less expensive college, and she’d lose the partial scholarships. I don’t want her to have to do that. She’s worked too hard all these years, keeping her grade average up, excelling in all her classes. She deserves the best, and one way or another, she’s going to have it.”

It was that one way or another that had Harry worried.

They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence. The late moon was partially hidden by clouds, not a star in sight. The near empty roads were still wet and the tires made a slick hissing sound that could lull a turbulent mind.

And then that damn glaring green sign jumped out at him. Charlie hadn’t told him it was framed with a neon green gaslight. The color was so bold, it seemed to throb in nauseating waves through the darkness. Cautiously, surveying the area, Harry pulled up to the curb. He swallowed hard, not wanting to ask but knowing he had to. “So, this is the bar. But where do you live?”

“Upstairs.” She unhooked her seat belt. “When I bought the place, the second floor was empty, so I converted it into an apartment. My mother was already sick then, so I needed to work close to her and Jillian. The setup is great, though I wasn’t crazy about having Jillian at a bar. But the stairs leading up are just inside the door, so Jillian doesn’t have to come all the way into the bar unless she wants to. There’s a door at both the bottom and top of the stairs, and they’re kept locked. Only Jillian and I have keys. Anybody I see messing around with the door gets tossed out and isn’t welcomed back. Since the Lucky Goose is so popular, nobody wants to test me on it.”

That strange tenderness swelled in his chest again, making him warm and fidgety. “You’re a real tough guy, aren’t you, Charlie?”

He said it softly, working the words out around the lump in his throat, but she took him literally. She shoved the door open and climbed out. “I have to be.”

She looked surprised when he turned off the engine, stepped out, and activated his car alarm.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Harry grinned. “A gentleman always sees a lady to her door.”

She looked nearly frantic with consternation. “I’ll agree you’re a gentleman, Harry, but I’m hardly a lady. You can save your gallantry for someone who’ll appreciate it. I don’t need to be seen anywhere.”

Her denials made that strange tenderness more acute, almost like a pain. She was so used to taking care of herself, with no help at all. She was a small woman, but she gave the impression of being an amazon with her stubborn, forceful attitude. It hurt to think of all she’d been through before perfecting that attitude.

Shaking off the feeling, Harry took her arm and began ushering her reluctantly forward. “You look more than feminine to me.” Especially since he knew she wore his silk boxers beneath the long shirt. His palms itched with the need to smooth that slippery material over her sweetly rounded bottom. No, no, no. Dalton’s daughter, Dalton’s daughter… He mentally repeated that litany until his heart calmed.

As they stepped inside the heavy wooden doorway he was met with dim light, cigarette smoke and a low hum of noise. He looked around with feigned casual interest, when in truth, he felt appalled. He cleared his throat. “I’d very much like to get a peek at your establishment, and to meet this paragon sister of yours, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“You want to meet Jillian?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just…why?”

He shrugged, trying to fetch forth a logical excuse that wouldn’t make her more suspicious. So I can describe her to Dalton. “Because she’s your sister, and I’m vastly curious.”

Charlie looked doubtful, but just then the door to Harry’s left burst open and a tall, slender, very young girl bounded into the hallway. “Charlie!”

Harry had already thrust Charlie behind him and taken a fighter’s stance. The girl’s eyes widened as she stopped dead in her tracks, one hand lifting to her throat. From behind him, Charlie snickered in a most irritating way.

And Harry muttered, “Ah, hell.”

Peeking from around him, Charlie said, “Harry, meet my sister, Jillian. Sis, this is Harry Lonnigan. You’ll have to ignore his chivalry, but you did bust out like a tornado. You see, Harry has these odd heroic tendencies, and he was trying to protect me, in case you were a threat.”

Harry pulled her around to the front of him and growled, “I am not a hero.”

“No? Well, Ted or the dogs might disagree. And you saved me from a pager today, remember? And now you just protected me from my sister.” She snickered again, and the sound grated along his raw nerves. “You’re either a hero, or you’re nuts. Take your pick.”

CHARLIE CONTINUED to smile as Jillian cautiously stepped forward, her eyes huge, staring at Harry with absolute awe. Charlie knew the feeling. It seemed every time she looked at him, he impressed her anew. He was just so…big. And so manly and hard and solid. Despite the fine clothes, the immaculate haircut, Harry Lonnigan had an aura of savagery about him.

She liked it.

Harry reached out and gently took Jill’s hand. “Never mind your rather disputatious sister here. She seems to take immense enjoyment in plaguing me for no evident reason.” Jillian stared, and Harry added, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jillian.”

Jillian licked her lips, glanced sideways at Charlie, and whispered, “What did he say?”

Charlie laughed. “Who knows? He always talks funny, but it seems to be getting worse as the night goes on. I think he needs to get some sleep and recharge his wits.”

Jillian nodded, then turned back to Harry. She clasped his hand with both of hers. “Thank you so much for bringing my sister home safe and sound. She tends to get herself into trouble awfully easy, but from what she told me, she topped herself tonight.”

Harry nodded. “Hmm. Her intentions are good, but she appears to be misguided by too much pride and bravado.”

“Yep, that’s Charlie. I tried to talk her out of doing something so stupid, but—”

“Jill.”

Jill smiled. “Would you like to come up for a drink? I was just making some hot chocolate.”

“Jillian…”

“Thank you, I’d love to,” Harry said, cutting off Charlie’s protest. “Hot chocolate sounds like perfection.”

Charlie rubbed her head. “Harry, don’t you think it’s getting kind of late?”

He glanced at his wristwatch. “Very. What time do you close the bar?”

“At two. And as soon as I change, I have to check on things. So really, it’d be better—”

He gave her his back. “Jillian, if you’d like to lead the way, I’ll drink my hot chocolate and then head home. Charlie’s absolutely correct that it’s been a rather full day.”

Jill smiled. “Follow me.”

Eyes narrowed, Charlie stomped along behind them up the silent stairwell. When they reached the top, Jill used the key hanging from her wrist to unlock the door. She said over her shoulder to Harry, “The doors automatically lock when they shut.”

“Good idea. Are you ever bothered by the noise downstairs?”

“Not at all. I’m used to it.”

“And the patrons respect your privacy?”

“Patrons?” Jill giggled as she headed down another hall and into the kitchen, the first room on the left at the top of the landing. Water already boiled in a softly whistling teapot, so Charlie got down three mugs and the tin of chocolate powder. Jillian dug three spoons from the drawer. “I’d hardly call the guys who hang out here ‘patrons.’”

“No? Then what would you call them?” Harry seated himself at the Formica table and crossed his long legs. He looked entirely too much at his leisure to suit Charlie, especially when she noted him looking around, surveying their small but tidy kitchen.

Jill shrugged. “I don’t know. Regulars? I suppose that’s the nicest thing I can come up with. Oh, really, they’re not all bad. But as Charlie has always told me, we attract a certain clientele here at the Lucky Goose, and it doesn’t include anyone who’s too discriminating.”