Jake followed Josephine out to her car, watching the way her hair danced across her shoulders and down her back. He was amazed at how close his imagination had taken him.

She turned once toward him, saying something over her shoulder. Jake completely missed it.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, hoping she hadn't caught him staring, or worse thought that his eyes had been elsewhere.

"I said," she repeated. "You don't really have to come if you don't want to. The grocery store isn't very far away, and I doubt Saturday evening traffic on I-85 is going to teach you much." Her tone of voice wasn't very reassuring.

He hit her with his best 'I'm a nice guy' smile. She ignored it.

Okay. The old tricks definitely were not going to work in this situation.

"I really wanted to come," he replied, goodnaturedly, determined that he would figure out what made Josephine Donovan tick. Perhaps for the time being it was best to sit back and observe. He climbed into the passenger seat, before continuing.

"Nothing against Shelly and Mike, but I was starting to go a little stir crazy." He glanced at her profile as she placed the key into the ignition. Long, flowing waves slipped over her shoulder in a rich cascade. Suddenly the urge to have his drawing pad in hand was overwhelming. Unfortunately, in his study of her, he missed something else that she said.

Mortified, he met eyes that were suddenly watching him intently. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Where most women would have immediately picked up on his line of thought--and been flattered by it, Josephine seemed genuinely concerned about him. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with that. Obviously Josephine Donovan wasn't most women.

That was probably why he told her the truth.

"Really?" She seemed almost touched by it. But then she quickly looked away.

Jake found himself telling her more, more even than he'd told his family. His art had always been very personal to him. When he realized that he was rambling on, he stopped, mildly embarassed at just how much he'd opened up.

Josephine looked distinctly uncomfortable as well. He wondered if he'd really gone too far. She was essentially a stranger, and he sensed that she was a private person. Maybe she didn't want to know his business any more than she wanted him to know hers.

"Look," he began, all set to apologize. "I didn't mean to--"

"It's okay," Josephine told him. "You didn't. It's me. . ." She glanced at him briefly before returning her gaze to the road. "I have a confession to make."

Those weren't exactly the words he'd been expecting to hear. The gentle flush in her cheeks was just off the map. What in the world could she want to confess? "All right?" he said, wondering if trepidation or expectation was the correct feeling.

"I--I know about your art," she said softly, haltingly.

He released his breathe. "That's okay--"

Josephine put up her hand. "Wait. There's more. When we were at the hospital, I went through your overnight bag. It was for the nurse--she said that any information we could find would help. One of your drawing tablets fell out."

Jake turned and looked out the window. "It's okay. No big deal. It's not as if it were classified information or anything." But still a mild tension lingered in the air.

He glanced toward her mischievously, "If it were classified, then I'd have to--"

"Oh please, tell me you didn't just use that tired line!" She cried in feigned horror.

"Uh, 'fraid so," he chuckled, glad that the tension was relieved. "I'll have you know I have relatives, close relatives, who think that was the best movie ever made."

"I hear there's a vaccine for that," she shot back. "It's called 'good taste'. Maybe you should get your close relatives some help."

Jake found himself laughing at her. The fascinating, beautiful, dry-witted woman he remembered from the hospital was back. The facets of her personality that he had seen thus far were almost intoxicating to his senses. He absolutely wanted to know more.

"You know," she said, switching gears on him again. "You're very talented. A couple of the things you drew just kind of stuck with me. I especially liked the one of the desert sunset. And Bojo would have to run a close second."

Flattered, he said the first thing that came to mind. "You looked at them all?"

Josephine blushed crimson. "No... I..." she quickly back-pedalled.

"I'm teasing," Jake hurried to say, touching her arm. "I'm sorry. I was only kidding."

Josephine looked at him from the corner of her eye and began to smile. "You will pay for that," she warned."

He looked forward to it.

Several minutes later, they arrived at the largest grocery store Jake had ever had the displeasure of meeting. "You're kidding me," he said, staring up at the building.

"Would that I were," Josephine said. "Absolutely, positively gauranteed to have any and everything but what you want."

"Voice of experience?" Jake thought he sensed a little something there. He couldn't recall a woman who didn't like to shop. If if he weren't carefull, his comparing her to generalizations was going to get him into major trouble.

"You betcha," Josephine agreed. "Let's go tackle it."

Tackling wasn't enough. For all the forty varieties of cheese carried by the store, none were the type Shelly had requested. Josephine assured Jake that she only used 'normal' cheese for her meager cooking needs. She then muttered something about her mother that Jake didn't quite catch, but he was too distracted by her humorous company to wonder over it for long.

After covering the grated cheese section four times, Josephine admitted defeated and suggested that they hunt down a phone and give Shelly a call. Jake teased her about not joining the yuppie revolution and getting a cellular of her own.

"I really do need to," she admitted. "But the idea of dealing with a sales person and sorting through all of those plans...ugh." She feigned a shudder. "Just leave me in the dark ages."

"Rytron must have tried every phone and plan known to man," Jake said. "Why don't I help you sort through the propaganda?"

"You mean you'll willingly walk in to one of those horrid places...on purpose?" Jo teased him.

"I live to conquer those places. A kick back from cave man times, I suppose." He winked at her, having already heard her theory on the word 'dude' having links to prehistoric times when man was supposed to have grunted the language.

"All right," she said. "The grunt work is all yours."

"Good," Jake grinned, turning when a customer service representative approached to assist them. This was the easiest date he'd ever made.

~*~

"Well?" Shelly murmured to Josephine. The dinner was over, and Josephine was heading home. A flat parcel was cradled in one arm, and a look of relaxed contentment played in her heart.

"Well what?" Josephine asked, smiling at her friend. She could tell that it was practically eating Shelly alive not to say something pertaining to her lovelife. But, of course, if Jo mentioned it first--and she had no intention of doing so--Shelly would be in the clear, and free to talk all she wanted.

"You know." Shelly hinted in a frustrated whisper.

Jo blithely ignored her friend's plight. "I had a wonderful evening," she said. "You really outdid yourself with all the food and everything."

"Well thank you," Shelly said, sighing wistfully at the conversation she wasn't going to have. Then with a little pout, she said, "You're making this far too hard on me, you know."

"I know," Josephine said, a touch of smugness in her tone. "But what else are friends for?"

"Right." Shelly mocked dryly. "Aside from arguing over dinner about quintessential male behavioral patterns. . ."

"Yeah, there's that," Jo agreed, remembering the conversation that she and Jake had embarked on over dinner. It had led to a rousing conversation about stereo-types in which she'd insisted that it was just a part of man to be perpetually lost, and too stubborn to ask for directions. She'd even quoted studies that proved that in most relationships, women were the navigators.

"Or daring said friends to find your place on his own, in Charlotte traffic." Shelly continued slyly.

Josephine's gaze hardened into feigned annoyance at Shelly's managing to find a way around the matchmaking ban.

"It was a reasonable way to prove my point," Jo said. "An experiment. Especially since we were going to go shopping for a cell phone anyway."

"I'm not even going to go into how stunned I am at that," Shelly said. "And I can't believe how sweet Jake was about this." She reached a hand out to touch the framed charcoal drawing that Jo had told him she'd admired. "He really is good," Shelly gazed at the picture again.

"He's got talent."

"Among other things," was Shelly's mischievous rejoinder, followed by a little wink.

"You're treading dangerously close to that line," Jo warned her. "He was just thanking me."

"Right." Shelly said, backing off, though the small secretive smile that graced her lips was no secret at all. That she thought that Jake and Jo should make a go of it was obvious. But Jo had absolutely no intention of making a go of anything. She just happened to enjoy the man's company.

"Well, I'd better get out of here. You know how mom frets."

They said their good-byes and Jo dashed out to her car and headed home.