Free A Promise to Cherish by Lavyrle Spencer

morning for my son’s house in Tucson. He’s got a new baby, you know, and we’ve never seen her.”
    “I imagine it’s a little hard to keep your mind on marinated shrimp then, isn’t it?”
    “For you, sir, not at all. Service is the same as always.”
    They laughed together in the way of men who go through this ritual often. Lee noted the same camaraderie between Brown and yet another man who brought them goblets of ice water.
    When they were alone with their menus at last, Lee admitted, “I am impressed, Brown. How could I help but be?”
    “Tell me that when you’ve seen me in action in the office and it’ll mean something.”
    She looked for signs of teasing and saw none.
    This man, this Sam Brown, what did she know of him? Was he honorable or a scoundrel? Was his poise in these elegant surroundings an intentional smoke screen to hide his seamier side? He could charm the gold out of a person’s teeth—she had no doubt about that—but could he also be ruthless? He was handsome enough to turn any woman’s head, and that fact made it more difficult to assess his hidden traits. After all, she was making a business decision, and what he looked like had absolutely no bearing upon his character or his motives. Studying him now, Lee entwined her fingers, pressed her arms along the table edge, and bent forward until her breasts touched her wrists.
    “Level with me, Brown. Would you hire me with the ulterior motive of exploiting me, like Thorpe did?”
    She watched his eyes carefully as they registered faint surprise at her direct question, then glinted with brief amusement before that too disappeared and he asked matter-of-factly, “Could it be, Ms. Walker, that you have a hang-up about being Indian?” Immediately she bristled, but before she could respond he went on. “I did a little checking on you. You’re good, you’re honest, you’re young and ambitious. A man could do worse than hire a person like that as an estimator, especially when his corporation has all its officers intact. Besides that, it wouldn’t be far for you to drive. That’s always to an employer’s advantage.”
    His answer set her back in her chair. “How do you know where I live?”
    Again a glint of amusement filled his eyes. “You forget. Your suitcase had a tag on its handle just like mine did.”
    Of course! How could she forget what had led her here in the first place? Yet it was disconcerting to think he’d been asking people about her.
    “Tell me, Mr. Brown,” she began, “is there anything you don’t know about me?”
    He looked up from his menu and she became uncomfortably aware that she was wearing a necklace shaped like an Indian arrowhead strung around her neck on a leather thong. But his eyes returned to his menu as he answered, “Yes, I don’t know why you bother to order your meals without potatoes when you don’t need to. The food here is tremendous. Don’t stint yourself tonight.”
    His answer raised an instant prickle of female vanity, but she warned herself to accept the compliment with a grain of salt. Just then the waiter approached to take their order.
    The meal was delicious, as promised. They ate it while discussing upcoming jobs Sam would want her to bid, projects she had worked on, nothing more personal until, over coffee, he sat back with one shoulder drooping lower than the other in a way with which she was already becoming familiar.
    “Actually, there is a question about you that puzzles me,” he said.
    She looked up, waiting.
    “Why don’t you have records of employment before Thorpe Construction?”
    “I do. They’re in St. Louis.”
    “St. Louis?” Sam quirked an eyebrow.
    “Yes, that’s where I lived before.”
    “Before what?” Though his eyes rested lightly on her, she had the feeling he was drilling into her head.
    “Before I moved here three years ago,” she answered with deliberate evasion.
    “Ah.” He tilted his chin up, and for a moment she thought he might question