Minutes ticked by, and my feet began to get cold. Libby came out of the deli. With her fingers, she oh-so-casually combed her hair away from her face. Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder and strolled toward me, hips swinging. I recognized all the signs. “Tell me you didn’t try to pick up Calvin while you were in there.” “Of course not. He looks terribly callow up close. But there was a very charming gentleman waiting for a latte, who—” “Are you so desperate for male company that you— Never mind. What is Calvin doing?” “Waiting for his lunch. He must be a hearty eater, by the way. He ordered two meals to go—a burger and a Greek salad.” “Maybe he’s picking up for somebody else.” “I suppose he— Look, here he comes!” We dodged into the doorway of a stationery shop and pretended to admire a display of Christmas cards.
