Free Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral by Stephanie Bond Page B

to think of it, was the way she felt about
    trusting her father again.
    She downed a couple of Advil tablets, then dressed in a
    knee-length tan skirt and white long-sleeve linen shirt,
    with a triple strand of long, faux pearls and red Donald J
    Pliner strappy sandals. She desperately wanted a cigarette,
    but knew Peter would frown on the scent that would
    undoubtedly cling to her clothes. She glanced at the charm
    bracelet lying on the dresser and, on impulse, decided to
    put it back on. Eva McCoy had said her bracelet brought
    her luck, and Carlotta certainly needed all the luck she
    could get.
    She left her hair down and as much as she hated to, she
    donned the flexible cast to support her tender arm. And
    because she was working on a blister from being on her
    feet all day, she tucked a pair of black Cole Haan loafers
    into her shoulder bag. The bottle of over-the-counter
    painkil ers went in, too.
    After checking her appearance, she put a hand over her
    racing heart and acknowledged she was nervous over their
    date. Just being near Peter always left her feeling caught
    between the infatuation she’d had as an eighteen-year-old
    and the uncertainty of the woman she was now. She took
    a deep breath, then returned to the living room where
    Peter stood with his hands in his pockets, studying the
    tarnished Christmas tree.
    “Now that Dad has made his presence known, I was
    hoping that Wesley would let me take down the tree.”
    Peter turned. “You told Wesley that you saw your dad
    while you were in Florida?”
    She nodded. “I decided he had a right to know. But he
    doesn’t know that Dad called you.”
    “That’s probably wise for now,” he agreed, then reached
    for her hand. “You look amazing.”
    “Thank you.”
    He kissed her fingers. “I can’t tel you how much I’ve been
    looking forward to tonight.”
    Her pulse kicked up. She hadn’t considered that Peter
    might want to…
    “Let’s just take it slow and have fun,” she murmured.
    “Ready to go?”
    He nodded and they left the house. Peter’s low-slung
    Porsche two-seater was a far cry from the beater cars in
    her garage. She slid into the leather seat that cradled her
    like a hand and allowed him to close her door. If one thing
    led to another, she knew Peter would buy her any car she
    wanted.
    Any thing she wanted. Just for the asking. She studied him
    as he settled into the driver’s seat.
    “Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes worried as if he
    were expecting her to pul the plug on the date at any
    moment.
    “Yeah,” she said, smiling. “I’m hungry.”
    “Me, too. I thought we’d go to Ecco. Have you been?”
    “No, but I’ve heard about their bar.” Her former coworker
    Michael Lane had wanted her to go with him a couple of
    times, but it hadn’t worked out with her schedule…or her
    finances. She hadn’t known financial security since her
    parents had left, but after having her identity stolen and
    her already-compromised credit damaged further, she’d
    cut up her plastic and put herself on a strict budget.
    “They have a great wine list, and I think you’l like the
    food.”
    “Don’t we need reservations?”
    He winked. “I got you covered.”
    “Sounds good.” Good for someone else to make decisions,
    good to be taken care of for a change. Just…good. Carlotta
    closed her eyes and allowed the music on the stereo to
    wrap around her during the short ride to Midtown.
    For a muggy Monday night, the sidewalks were busy with
    locals waiting out rush hour by indulging in happy hour,
    and visitors looking for something to do after touring the
    Margaret Mitchell House.
    The restaurant was packed, but Peter maneuvered a place
    at the oversize bar where they enjoyed a leisurely glass of
    wine. Peter was a good conversationalist, thoughtful, yet
    entertaining, and startlingly handsome. She felt a rush of
    affection for him. Peter’s rejection ten years ago had
    devastated her, but surely he’d suffered more than