Free Banjo Man by Sally Goldenbaum Page A

began.
    “I’ve taken care of everything. And you don’t have to thank me. It is my pleasure.”
    They were halfway down the block when she stopped and turned, pulling him to a halt. “Rick—you make me crazy! I forget who I am, where I am … where I’m
supposed
to be! I can’t go to lunch now; it’s after one. I have to be back at work.”
    “Okay, then, dinner. I’ll pick you up for an early dinner, and then we’ll go to the theater, and dancing afterward. Don’t say no!” he insisted, waving away her objections. “Listen, the jitterbug is back, and I’m a great jitterbugger. Trust me!”

Six
    Didn’t that man
ever
sleep? Laurie yawned languidly, rubbing the heels of her palms against her eyes.
    She pulled her chair over to the window and leaned across the sill. The white light of early morning washed across her arms, but there was no warmth to it yet, just a teasing promise. Since last night, all of life seemed a teasing promise: a golden ring on the merry-go-round, a surprise at the bottom of the Cracker Jacks box.
    She hadn’t slept a wink and was sorry now, at just past seven A.M. , with the whole day stretching ahead. Her eyelids drooped over sleepy gray eyes; the small of her back ached; her heart thumped and bumped unevenly in her chest, a tom-tom beating out a disquieting message.
    Rick Westin! There was the heart of the problem.
    The thought of him pulled at her soul like the tide, constant and irresistible. When she closed her eyes, his face was imprinted on her lids; whenshe drifted into a moment’s sleep, he moved through her dreams.
    They had shared an exquisite Japanese dinner, seated on woven cushions behind a paper screen, drinking warm sake that made her head spin. Or was it the look in his dark eyes that made her dizzy? Then they’d made a mad dash to the theater, where she had sat at what was now
her
table, stage front, to be thrilled again by the sound of his voice and the wild, dark excitement of him on stage. And as if that weren’t enough, later they had gone dancing at some little club where the band members all knew Rick and the music tugged at their feet … and she wished he would hold her in his arms forever.
    And then she had sat awake in the stiff kitchen chair for most of the night, trying to talk some sense to herself.
    The trouble was, she wasn’t listening.
    She was, quite honestly, crazy about the man. She wanted to quit her job, abandon her bed on the couch, snatch up her hairbrush and toothbrush, and go pound down his door. She could see the headlines now:
    EX-NUN ARRESTED FOR BREAKING AND ENTERING LOVER’S APARTMENT!
    Hugging her knees, she pressed her fevered forehead against the windowpane. She couldn’t believe herself, talking about a lover! A month ago she would have been just leaving the chapel after matins, her veil in place, her dark skirt brushing the floor. Too much was happening. Too much, too fast. It was wonderful—but so very confusing.
    Again she closed her eyes and saw his dark, angular face, the curve of his jaw, the shape of his mouth. She pictured his wild, dark hair and gypsyeyes, the sexy grin that flickered across that perfect face.
    Oh … was this love? Could it be? She had so little knowledge, and no practice at all. How was she supposed to be sure? Whom could she ask?
    “Good grief, what are you doing up already?” Ellen stormed in through the front door, her eyes taking in everything at once, as always. “Honestly, a person who doesn’t have to be at work until nine should sleep till at least eight forty-five! Coffee on?” she asked without pausing for breath.
    “Gee, I forgot. I’m sorry.”
    “No problem. I’ll have it perking in a sec. Should I put a muffin on for you?”
    “No, thanks, I—”
    “Hey, are you all right, kiddo? These last few days you’ve had the appetite of a sparrow! And you know, you’re looking very pale … kind of translucent, you know what I mean? Like a candle burning at both ends. Have