"Since my wife died, I've learned to do a lot of things that I'd never done before, like laundry, housecleaning and cooking. But I enjoy it."

As he was speaking, Charly suddenly became aware that McKinnon's eyes were riveted on her left hand where it curled around her coffee cup. And he was frowning. Outside of a murmured "Thank you" to Mr. Baker, he had been silent.

Completing a quick tour of the house, Charly thanked Mr. Baker for his hospitality and, when invited, said she would love to come back just to visit. And she meant it. She sensed the loneliness in him and decided he probably didn't have many visitors.

Back on the road again, she suppressed the urge to ask, "How did I do?" and kept silent. Her mind was already reviewing the next two farms and then there was the problem of lunch. By the time they reached their next destination, it would be 12:30 and not a good time to disturb a farmer.

Making her decision, she drove into Belleville and parked in the lot of her favourite pizza parlour. It wasn't crowded yet because it was only 11:30, so they didn't have to wait for a table. She didn't ask McKinnon what his preferences were and she didn't really care. She normally ate a salad for lunch and she knew this was one restaurant with a decent salad bar.

Once seated across from him, Charly began to feel uncomfortable. He was so dammed uncommunicative and this was suddenly a social situation. It had been relatively easy to brush off his presence until now. But there he sat, as big as life, just across the small table, studying the menu.

Knowing exactly what she wanted, Charly didn't need to look at the menu. So she looked at him instead and she saw him for the first time as a very attractive male. He would be mid-thirties and his features were rugged, rather than classically good-looking. His eyes were dark velvety-brown, covered at the moment by the sweep of long and slightly curled lashes. His hair was a dark mahogany with reddish highlights, and it was just a little longer than the average cut.

Too bad the personality is the pits, she mused, and then almost died when he glanced up sharply, and stared right into her eyes. Almost as though he could read my mind, damn it. She looked away as the waitress approached, and quickly gave her order for the salad bar and coffee.

Muttering, "Excuse me, please," she left the table and made her way to the Ladies' room. How embarrassing to be caught staring at him, like a schoolgirl! No doubt he's doing his best to unnerve me, but he isn't going to succeed. I want this job and I'm going to get it.




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