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Page 112
face. If only he could get her to say what was really on her mind. Better yet, he should toss her out of his life before she wreaked any more havoc with the nice, controlled existence he'd built over the past months.
But he would not do that. Instead he realized he wanted to learn all there was to know about Abby Wynne.
By the time the freeway signs said Arcadia, Mike felt hungry, glad he was heading for another Arlen's Kitchen. He maneuvered toward an exit.
The restaurant was located on Colorado Boulevard, the main street of trendy Old Town Pasadena. Abby stared at the aging buildings much as she had at the Barstow shopping center. Mike sighed quietly in frustration. What the heck was she thinking?
He parked in a space along the street, shaking his head at the way Abby glanced at him when the beep setting the car alarm sounded, and stared with fascination as he fed the parking meter.
This Arlen's Kitchen looked, of course, very much like the one they'd visited the day before. Despite the brick and plaster facade that blended this building with the rest of Old Pasadena, standardization was a key to the restaurant chain's success. Each sported the Arlen's Kitchens logo with its neat, old-fashioned script letters on signs and walls and on paper cups, plates, and bowls; each shared the same color scheme of pink, red, and white.

 
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