“Oh, honey, guys like Jim are what easily distracted is all about! Don’t feel bad. You acted like any other woman would have acted.”

“I’m not every other woman.”

“Then maybe you should try to be. Lighten up. You’re too hard on yourself. Relax and just have fun. You were never like this until Peter the Jerk stomped all over your self-confidence. Stop thinking about him. Stop worrying about what other people think of you.”

“People like Jim? You were worried about what he thought of you, weren’t you?”

“Was I?” By the way she said it, I could tell that Eve hadn’t seriously considered this part of the equation at all. “I wasn’t making a play for him, if that’s what you think.”

“Which is why you practically hung out a Come-and-Get-It sign.”

She laughed so hard, she had to catch her breath before she could reply. “He’s not my type. You know that, Annie. A cooking instructor?” She wiped a tear from her eye. “So he’s cute. So he’s more than cute! I don’t have him in my sights, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really!” I defended myself so vehemently that even I wondered if I was telling the truth. “Guys like Jim don’t look at women like me.”

“Because you’re cute.”

“Because I’m not…” I screeched my frustration. “Because he’s sexy and gorgeous and has that accent that makes my toes curl. That’s why. I’m not his type.”

“If you tell yourself it’s true, you will never be his type.”

I chewed over the thought, and I have to admit, I didn’t like the way it tasted. Mostly because I knew everything that Eve said was right on the money.

“Oh, rats!” She slammed on the brakes, effectively jarring me out of my thoughts.

“My watch is gone.” Eve fingered her bare left wrist. “It’s back at Très Bonne Cuisine. I took it off when we were washing up, and I know just where it is. On the counter next to the sink.”

I thought about Monsieur Lavoie and the way he kept the door between the shop and the cooking school locked. I shrugged. “It’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Well, yes, I know that.” Eve chewed on her lower lip. “If it was only that…”

The driver behind us laid on his horn, and Eve started up again. “I’m having lunch with Clint tomorrow,” she said by way of explanation.

Clint.

I did a quick shuffle through my mental Rolodex.

It wasn’t easy keeping Eve’s love life straight. Or the legion of guys who always seemed to be hovering, like bees around an especially beautiful flower.

There was Joe, the professional football player. Michael, the attorney. Scott, the architect. And Clint…

I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking, and the pieces finally clunked into place.

“Oh, Clint. The jeweler,” I said. “He’s the one who gave you-”

“The watch. Exactly. If I don’t wear it, he’s going to notice. And if he notices, he’s going to ask why.”

“And you’re going to tell him that you left it at your cooking class.”

“Practical as always, Annie.” As ifpractical were a dirty word, she tsk-tsked away the very idea. “If I don’t wear it, Clint is going to think that I don’t care.”

I thought back to the conversation we’d had only a few days before, the one in which Eve complained about everything from Clint’s choice of aftershave to Clint’s decision to trade in his BMW roadster for a sedate and sensible Volvo.

“You don’t care,” I reminded her.

Eve squealed a laugh. “Of course I don’t! But there are better ways to deliver the news. No, no. I could never be that cruel. Not to Clint. After all, the shine may be off our relationship, but the boy does have exquisite taste in jewelry.”

Eve wheeled left at the next street, ducked into the nearest driveway, and turned around. Before I could protest further, we were headed back toward Clarendon.

Fortunately, it was a Monday night, and the streets weren’t as crowded as they can be later in the week. Between that and the fact that it was after nine and most of the stores in the area were closed, traffic was pretty light. We cruised past the Cheesecake Factory, where there was still a line outside waiting to get in, and the Whole Foods Market that sold the yogurt that I loved so much. We turned left at the cross street closest to the shop. It must have been our lucky day (or night), because we found a place to park within sight of Très Bonne Cuisine’s back door.

When we got out of the car, the first thing we heard was a woman’s voice raised in anger.

“No! I will not listen. I will not change my mind. You know what I want.”

“That’s Beyla.” I recognized the voice and the accent that belonged to the beautiful, dark-haired woman in our class. And in the glow of the security light near the shop’s back door, I saw her, too. She was facing off against a man. He was farther from the light, and all I could see was a hulking silhouette. Though he kept his voice down and I couldn’t make out what he said, there was no mistaking the anger in his voice when he replied.

“You say this? To me!” Beyla shot back. She raised her chin, and when she snarled, I could see her teeth glint in the light. “I’ll kill you, Drago. I swear it on the souls of my ancestors.”

Apparently, Drago wasn’t buying any of this, and just to prove it, he closed in on Beyla. He stepped into the circle of light, and for the first time, I saw his face.

Eve had come around to my side of the car, and I grabbed her arm, automatically drawing her into the protection of the shadow of a nearby tree. “It’s the big guy,” I hissed. “The one who almost knocked me out cold when we got to class!”

“Yeah, and he’s even more pissed than Beyla.” Eve leaned forward, trying to hear and see more. “What do you suppose they’re fighting about?”

“Something tells me it’s none of our business.” I tugged her toward the front of the shop. “I think we should get out of here.”

“And miss all the fun?” Eve shrugged out of my grasp. “I’ll bet they were lovers in the Old Country. You know, one of those family feud things. Forbidden pleasure and all that.”

I heard Drago’s voice again and saw him pull back his shoulders. He was a big guy. Call me a wimp but if I had I been in Beyla’s position, I would have been intimidated. She looked more defiant than ever. I could practically feel the bad blood between them all the way over where we were.

“That doesn’t look like love to me,” I told Eve. “Think we should call the police?”

“Don’t be silly! And tell them what? That a man we never met and a woman we barely know are having an argument about something we don’t know anything about? The police have better things to do.”

No doubt, they did. But I couldn’t help but worry. “She said she was going to kill him.”

“And you know she didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

“Then maybe we should go into the shop and tell Monsieur Lavoie what’s going on by his back door.” I latched onto Eve’s arm, and when she didn’t budge, I played my trump card. “If we don’t hurry, the store will be locked up, and you won’t be able to get your watch.”

She recognized the ploy for what it was and made a face. “Party pooper.”

“No, that would be you if you show up tomorrow at lunch with Clint without your watch,” I reminded her.

She knew I was right, even if she didn’t like it. Eve took one more look toward the verbal knock-down-drag-out going on by the back door and followed me to the shop.

There was a light on inside, and we could see Monsieur over near the front counter. But we had to knock twice before he looked our way, and another time to get him to open the door a crack.

“Yes, yes?” he asked. He peeked around the edge of the door. “What is wrong? What is it you want?”

I was all set to tell him about Drago and Beyla, but Eve didn’t give me a chance.

“Well, maybe I just wanted another look at your smiling face, sugar!” Eve slipped inside the store. I had no choice but to follow or end up standing out on the sidewalk by myself. “What we really want is just to pop upstairs.” She displayed her empty wrist. “My watch,” she said with a little pout. “And I was just devastated when I realized it was gone. You wouldn’t make a poor girl spend the whole night without her very favorite piece of jewelry, now would you?”