Free Shadow Dance by Julie Garwood Page A

drink right away and then went back to helping the other customers while Jordan looked over the menu. When she had decided on a chicken salad, she put the menu down, opened her laptop and turned it on, and then spread out some of the research papers so she could start reading.
    She made notes while she read so she could check the professor’s research when she got back to Boston.
    “Your fingers are flying over those keys,” Angela said. “Am I interrupting your train of thought?”
    “No, you’re not,” she said, glancing up from the screen.
    “What were you doing?”
    “I had been making notes, but just now I was merging my calendar with a spreadsheet. Nothing important,” she added as she closed the laptop.
    “So you must know a lot about computers…you know, how they work and all.”
    “Yes,” she answered. “I work with computers.”
    “Jaffee’s got to meet you. He’s got a computer, but it won’t work right. Maybe you could answer a couple of questions for him after you have your lunch.”
    “I’d be happy to help,” she said.
    The restaurant had emptied by the time she finished her salad. Angela came out from the kitchen with the owner. She made the introductions, and Jordan complimented him on the restaurant.
    “It’s a charming place,” she said.
    “It’s named after me of course,” he told her with a grin. “My first name’s Vernon, but everyone likes to call me just plain Jaffee. I like it too,” he admitted. “Where are you from, Jordan Buchanan?” Jaffee had a wonderful twang in his voice, like a guitar string being plucked.
    “Boston,” she replied. “What about you? Did you grow up in Serenity, or are you a transplant like Angela?”
    “Transplant,” he replied, flashing a smile. “From another tiny town you’ve probably never heard of. I did a spell in San Antonio. That’s where I met my wife, Lily. She worked at the same restaurant, and you know…we kind of clicked. We’ve been married fourteen years, and we’re still clicking. What’s the weather like in Boston? Does it get as hot as it does here?”
    The conversation about the heat lasted a good ten minutes. Jordan didn’t know anyone, aside from a meteorologist, who was more interested in the weather than Jaffee.
    “Mind if I sit with you a spell?” he asked as he pulled out a chair across from her and sat down. “Angela said you wouldn’t mind answering some questions about computers.”
    “I don’t mind at all,” she said.
    “Did you like your salad? City girls always like salads, don’t they?”
    She laughed. “This city girl does.”
    Jaffee was such a nice man, and he was definitely in the mood to chat.
    “I had quite a crowd here for breakfast. Always do. I don’t have half that many for lunch. Truth is, I barely break even in the summer months, even serving dinner, but come fall I do a real nice business. My wife has to come in and help out then. My chocolate cake is famous around here. I expect folks will come dribbling in later this afternoon for a slice or two. Don’t you worry though. I already put back a slice for you.”
    She thought he was going to get up when he shifted in his chair. She reached for one of her folders so she could read another outrageous story about the saintly MacKennas and the demonic Buchanans.
    Jaffee wasn’t going anywhere. He was merely getting comfortable. “Chocolate cake is how I ended up owning this coffee shop.”
    She put the folder down and gave him her full attention. “How did that happen?”
    “Trumbo Motors,” he said. “Dave Trumbo to be exact. He owns a dealership in Bourbon, which is about forty miles from here. Anyway, Dave and his wife, Suzanne, were vacationing in San Antonio, and they had dinner in the restaurant where I was working. I’d made my chocolate cake, and boy oh boy, did he take to it. He had three slices before his wife made him stop.” He laughed then. “He’s got a real love for chocolate, but Suzanne won’t let him