Free Her Special Charm by Marie Ferrarella Page A

serving on his plate with his fork. “Dolmadakia,” he murmured.
    Constance raised her eyes to his, her mouth curving in a soft smile. “Yes, I know.”
    â€œGreek,” he said needlessly.
    Truly a man of few words, she thought as she nodded in reply. “Uh-huh.”
    A hint of suspicion entered his eyes. “Santini tell you I liked Greek food?”
    Her expression was the soul of innocence. “The subject never came up.”
    It shouldn’t have, and yet, here he was looking down at a plate of Greek cuisine. “Then I’m supposed to see this as some kind of cosmic coincidence?”
    She slipped another piece of meat to the dog’s plate. By the look on Stanley’s face, James would have said that the dog had fallen in love. “If it makes you feel better to call it that, yes.”
    He didn’t believe in coincidences. “What would you call it?”
    Her mouth curved as she finished another forkful. “Delicious.” The food was melting on her tongue. “Nico outdid himself.”
    The name meant nothing to him. He couldn’t help wondering if the man attached to it meant something to her. “Nico?”
    â€œNico Plagianos. The man who runs the restaurant,” she explained, then added, “he also runs the kitchen. He’s a friend of mine.”
    James looked over toward the sink where she’d left the thermal carrier. The name of the restaurant was stamped across the top.
    â€œThe Greek Isles,” he read out loud. The small restaurant was popular and trendy among the in-crowd. He’d heard that reservations had to be placed a month in advance. Sometimes even longer than that. As far as he knew, they didn’t have takeout. Yet she had just waltzed in and gotten this order. “You know the guy who owns the Greek Isles?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd the chief of police.”
    She couldn’t tell if he was questioning the truth of her statements, or that he was just impressed and struggling to hide the fact. “Yes.”
    James snorted, shaking his head. What was this woman doing here, eating with him? She was clearly out of his league. “Just what kind of a crowd do you run around with?”
    â€œA friendly one.” She placed her fork down on the plate for a moment as she looked at him. Questions stirred in her head. She’d taken in a stray once. He’d had that same wary look in his eyes as she was seeing now in James’s. “And for the record, there’s no running. Nico had bypass surgery last year, so he’s not allowed to run and Uncle Bob’s knees bother him too much to take to the track anymore.” Picking up her fork, she held up the small portion she’d speared. “Good, no?”
    â€œYeah. Good.” Excellent, actually. The food wasn’t the problem. The woman who had brought it, that was the problem.
    He glanced down at the floor and saw that Stanley had finished his portion and was now watching intently for anything that might have the occasion to fall off their plates.
    Constance followed his line of vision and laughed. “I forgot how quick they can eat. My dog lost her appetite at the end. Broke my heart to see her turn away from everything I tried to feed her.”
    He knew he shouldn’t ask. The more he knew, the harder it was to remain distant. But he supposed it was a harmless enough question. After all, it was just about her dog, not her. “What did she die of?”
    â€œBeing twelve. That’s pretty old for a lab.” A sadness twisted her lips, as if she were fighting to keep it at bay. “When she went, I felt so alone, I didn’t think that I could stand it.”
    Despite the look on her face, he couldn’t see this woman with her terminal cheerfulness succumbing to sadness. “What about ‘Nico’ and ‘Uncle Bob’?”
    She sensed he hadn’t meant the question to sound sarcastic. It was