Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

Then he was struck by the fact that he had forgotten her name, or maybe it had never been mentioned. But it was strange that she hadn’t offered him her card. He could only assume that in terms of purpose, she was legitimate. The arrangements had been made weeks ago, and to tell the truth, his lack of enthusiasm had caused a lack of attention to what was being said. All he had managed to remember was time, date, location, and that a woman would conduct the interview. This additional lapse in manners disturbed him further. The last thing he wanted was to ask her to identify herself. That would be humiliating, and he was bound to lose status in her eyes. Any status he may have gained with her was an unknown, but he wanted to hold onto it and was sure this wouldn’t help. He had to ask himself why he cared about her opinion and had to admit that he did care. That was another part to the mystery of why this woman had unknowingly cast a spell on him.

Ana reached across the table and touched Ben’s arm lightly. “You seem to have gone to another planet. I could hear the wheels turning. I guess you didn’t hear me.”

“I’m sorry. I can be guilty of letting my mind wander at inopportune times. I really didn’t mean to be rude.” He ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously.

“Is that a common occurrence with writers? Do you ‘go off’ into a different realm where ideas form and stories are born?”

“Maybe sometimes. This time I think it was to escape the noise. My head is buzzing.”

“I get that. I’ve had enough too. Think I’ll make a quick trip to the ladies’ room before we decide when this interview will actually happen. Watch my coat please?”

Ana slid out of her seat and then moved gracefully between the tables until she was out of his sight. As Ben scanned the room he noticed that the scruffy man had returned to the pub. He was seated at a table with another man, and they were deep in what appeared to be a serious and very private conversation. The other man looked to be in his twenties and was dressed in a suit and tie, but in spite of such attire he did not look the part. The scruffy man leaned back in his chair as his companion leaned forward and pounded on the table several times. He rose quickly, grabbed his old wool coat and made another quick exit, this time heading for the men’s room. The man in the suit waited for a short while, finishing his beer, then got up and left. By this time, Ben’s curiosity was more than piqued, and his imagination had started to work overtime.

There was a long queue for the Ladies, but Ana joined it and waited. She tried to avoid eavesdropping on the friendly conversations of the women lined up against the wall. She noticed an elderly man come out of the men’s room and tried to step aside for him as he squeezed by the line of women in the narrow hallway. Another man entered the hallway from the opposite direction, and as he strode by, he very nearly pushed the elderly man against the wall. As he passed Ana, she caught the scent of sweat and damp wool. He went into the Men’s and came out rather quickly. He pulled a phone out of his coat pocket and dialed. When the party answered, he spoke in a hushed tone. Even though he was turned away from her, his proximity allowed her to hear his anxious words over the women’s banter.

“He’s still here. He’s drinking at a table. Talking to some woman,” he said, turning around to see who might be listening. He paused, waiting for the person on the other end to stop speaking. “Our unwilling associate Mr. Logan hasn’t turned out to be very cooperative. I’ve been talking to him at a table and he got wound up, started banging on it and drawing attention. We need to change our plan. He won’t like that, or what’s going to happen to him if he causes trouble.”

Before he had finished his call, it was finally Ana’s turn to enter the restroom. She went in, freshened her hair and makeup, and tried to push what she had overheard out of her mind. After all, there was a handsome man waiting for her, and he probably wondered where she’d gotten to after all this time. Coming out of the restroom she noticed that the man had left the hallway. She didn’t understand why that fact made her feel relieved.

Ana returned to the table, and Ben stood to push in her chair as she sat. She had brushed her hair and applied lipstick. Her cheeks were still rosy from the cold, and Ben became even more taken with her. He pushed the two men from his mind and returned to the matter at hand. “I think we’ve squeezed all we can from this evening,” he said. “Would it work for you if we set up another meeting, maybe tomorrow or the next day?”

“I’m sure we can work out something that’s convenient for you. I must admit, my feet are really cold now. I think I’d be smart to get back to the hotel for a warm bath and some sleep.”

Without being summoned, Ben’s previous train of thought returned. But in this fantasy Ana was languishing in a perfumed bubble bath, surrounded by soft candlelight. Her hair was piled high on her head, and the soothing sounds of Debussy filled the air. Once again he shook himself back to the present, mystified by how she had become the main character in a variety of possible story lines going through his head. It was much simpler than that. He wanted her.

Ana stood and reached for the raincoat Ben had slung onto the back of a vacant chair.