"What did you do that made her want to tell on you?"
"Nothing big," he said, separating the meat of his lobster tail from the shell. "I once kicked a hole in the wall with my cowboy boots and tried to say I didn't know how it got there, but she didn't hesitate to set my parents straight."
"Why'd you kick the wall?"
"She was trying to make me dress up as a girl for Halloween and I wanted to be a cowboy," he said with a laugh. "I had the boots and everything, obviously."
"How old were you?"
"Five."
Madison enjoyed envisioning the rough-and-tumble little boy Caleb had probably been. A cowboy was definitely the better choice for his personality. "I see. Then you were perfectly justified."
He nodded as he began cutting his lobster. "My point exactly."
"Did you get in trouble for it?" she asked.
"Not as much trouble as I got in for other things."
"Like..."
"Like the time my sister was baby-sitting and told me I couldn't have any frogs in the house."
Madison held her glass while the waitress came around with more water. "I take it you didn't listen," she said to Caleb.
"I snuck several into my room because I couldn't see how a few frogs would hurt anything."
"And?"
He dipped some lobster meat in butter and offered it to her. She wasn't typically fond of seafood, which was why she'd ordered a steak. But he made lobster look downright tasty. Leaning over, she ate from his hand, enjoying the fact that he'd thought to share with her, more than the sweet tenderness of the meat.
His eyes lingered on her mouth, and it took him a moment to get back to his story. "And then the frogs got loose and when my mother came home, she stepped on one in the laundry room."
"Ick," Madison said with a shudder. "But I don't see how Tamara had anything to do with that."
"Oh, she was right there, saying, 'I told him not to do it, Mother, I told him you wouldn't like it.'"
Madison chuckled at his imitation of his tattletale sister and tried her steamed vegetables. They were as delicious as the rest of the food. "You must have been a little hellion."
"I don't think I was a hellion. Trouble just followed me around."
"What about your father?" she asked, taking a bite of her garlic mashed potatoes. "Didn't he ever stick up for you?"
"My mother's pretty formidable. He generally doesn't go against her, even for me."
"So she wears the pants in the family?"
"Not really. The power play between my parents isn't too out of whack. My mother's just so...organized and sure of herself, everyone naturally falls in line behind her. Sometimes I call her the Oracle."
"Because she's the font of all wisdom?"
"Exactly. She's always right, no matter what."
Madison couldn't help wishing her own mother was more "organized," more confident, so she wouldn't have to worry about her as much. But then, Caleb's mom hadn't been forced to deal with what Annette had.
"What do you think about that woman they found?" she asked, suddenly changing the subject.
"What woman?"
"The strangled woman."
He stopped eating for a moment. "What do you mean?"
"Have you been following the story?"
"A little."
"Do you think it's a copycat?"
He offered her another bite of lobster, but she waved it away. "I guess anything's possible," he said.
She nodded, thinking about the box waiting for her at her mother's house. She had to do something about it tonight. Tomorrow was Saturday morning--a likely time to have Toby start work.
But for now she was going to forget that her father had ever been involved in a murder investigation, and continue to enjoy herself.
"You're slowing down," Caleb said, nodding toward her plate. "Don't tell me you're full."
"I can't fit anything else inside this dress."
His eyes flicked over her. "It's worth it."
Madison felt a liquid warmth swirl through her. "I'm glad I finally had the chance to wear it. I bought it two years ago, but it's been buried at the back of my closet ever since."
"Sort of like carrying a concealed weapon, huh?"
"What?"
"Never mind," he said, chuckling. He paused for a minute, then tipped his wineglass toward her. "You're sending me mixed signals. You know that, don't you?"
She leaned back, crossed her legs and took another sip of wine. "Mixed signals?" she repeated, as though she didn't already know perfectly well what he meant.
"You tell me you don't want a relationship, but you wear something that's--" he hesitated, then whistled softly "--guaranteed to stop me dead in my tracks."
"I didn't know this dress came with guarantees like that," she teased.
"It should have. Are you going to tell me what's up?"
She drank the last of her wine. "Okay, I admit to wanting to turn your head," she said. "I like the way you make me feel when you look at me, as though..."
"As though what?"
His voice was a little deeper, rougher than usual, and Madison had to work hard not to think about that kiss he'd given her at her door.
"Just 'as though,'" she said, slightly embarrassed. "But a little flirting is harmless, right? I mean, you're not interested in a relationship any more than I am. You're moving to San Francisco at the end of your lease. This is just a temporary...friendship."
He ate the last bite of his lobster. "I should probably tell you that this isn't feeling very much like friends to me."
"I'm not sure what it's feeling like to me," she said. "I was more or less robbed of the past twelve years. Maybe I'm trying to recapture some of the carefree fun I missed, some of the fun other people generally enjoy in their early twenties."
He held her gaze. "I guess I can understand that."
"Great." She smiled, eager to talk about something else. She didn't want to categorize their relationship or commit herself to any one mode of behavior. She liked looking at the night as an empty canvas, and refused to let the prudence that governed all her actions intercede at this juncture. "Then you won't mind taking me dancing."
He considered her for a few seconds. "Dancing."
"I want to have a night on the town, take a walk on the wild side for a change."
His eyebrows lifted. "How wild are you talking?"