Gah …Where had they distilled this stuff?
”So …” She sensed more than saw movement across the table. “You said you had a business out?”
The voice emanating from the dark was about as warm as a Minneapolis January. “I might remind you, young lady, I’m taking time out of a busy schedule at the Neo Edo. l already have a business to run.”
This wasn’t going well at all.
I’m not going to give -up! Not that easily! Margo cleared her throat, thought about taking another sip of her drink, then thought better. No sense strangling again and cementing her doom. Her hands were trembling against the nearly invisible bourbon glass.
She cleared her throat again, afraid her voice would come out a scared squeak. “I’ve been looking for you, Mr. Carson, because everyone agrees you’re the very best time scout in the business.”
”I’m retired,” he said dryly.
She wished she could see his face and decided he’d chosen this spot deliberately to put her off balance. Cranky old …
”Yes, I know: I understand that. But…” Oh, God, l sound lake an idiot. She blurted it out before she could lose her nerve. “I want to become a time scout. I’ve come to you for training.”
A choked sound in the darkness hinted that she’d caught him mid-sip. He gave out a strangled wheeze, coughed once, then set his drink down with a sharp click. A match flared, revealing a thin, strong hand and a stubby candle in a glass holder. Carson lit the candle, fanned out the match, then just stared at her. His eyes in the golden candle glow were frankly disbelieving.