me?” He seems genuinely surprised, and I don’t want to admit that he looks a little more ragged than I pictured him being, wearing old jeans and a faded Harley Davidson shirt. Still, he’s undeniably handsome, with those keen brown eyes that transmit so much energy.
“Well, it was dark yesterday, you know.” I lead him into my office.
His voice gets softer, fuller. “But I recognized you .” I don’t know how to respond to that, so I nod, my ponytail bobbing rhythmically. I feel him behind me, his presence; am aware of his body and how tall he is, as he shadows me all the way into my office.
“Please, sit down.” I make my way to the other side of my desk. Maybe if I stick to my usual professional role, I can regain my composure here. I run a smoothing palm down the front of my khakis as I primly take my seat. Then, folding my hands in front of me, sitting very upright, I meet his magnetic, golden-eyed gaze. Oh, yes, he’s too beautiful for me—by many long miles. Plus, he’s got to be married.
Surreptitiously, I glance at his hand, but it’s obscured behind the stack of manuscripts on my desk. Okay, no answer to the Big Question yet.
“So.” I clear my throat. “What’re you doing here on a Saturday? Don’t tell me you’re this dedicated to keeping my lights on.” As soon as the double entendre is out of my mouth, I regret its accidental escape. Thank God Michael doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Oh,” is all he says, like he hadn’t thought about it before now. “Just forgot my paycheck, that’s all.”
He reaches absently for a paperweight on the corner of my desk, moving it from hand to hand, which is when I begin to wonder precisely why he’s come to visit me. He looks down at the domed glass, studying the picture within. “Your family?”
I wince because it’s an old picture of me, one that predates my attack. No scars, just me—as beautiful, I suppose, as I once used to be. “Yeah, me and my parents.”
He squints down at the magnified image, studying it intently. I notice the way the edges of his eyes crinkle into smile lines.
“Horse farm?” He turns the picture toward me, although I know the image by heart.
“I was raised on one, yes.” I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to reveal anything personal—at least not anything more than he’s already gotten out of me. Certainly not that my retired parents live just a few miles away, over in Santa Monica, or that they came here three years ago to nurse me back from the brink.
He returns my paperweight to my desk guiltily, giving it a reassuring pat. Again, I wonder precisely why Michael Warner has come to see me, why he keeps fidgeting this way. I try a new tack. “Andrea is a precious girl. We had a really good time yesterday.”
“That’s what I heard. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did.”
“It was nothing.”
He looks intensely at me. “No, that’s not true. It was really important to her.” His voice grows quieter. “And me.”
“Well, your stepdaughter was an angel.”
“My stepdaughter,” he repeats, frowning.
“Well isn’t she? That’s what she told me.”
His whole expression darkens like a storm cloud. “Actually Andrea’s why I wanted to see you today. Don’t know how to ask this, so I’ll just do it.” Those words always seem to pave the way for bad news, and I tense immediately. “Did Andie mention her scar?”
I relax again, relieved to know what’s on his mind. “A little, yeah.”
“What about the accident? Did she talk any about that?”
I shake my head no, and it hurts me the way his face kind of falls. “Oh, okay.” He nods thoughtfully, the thick dark brows knitting together into a melancholy scowl. “I had hoped maybe so.”
“What happened to her?”
His gaze tracks back to me. “She was in a bad car accident. Something she doesn’t talk about much,” he admits. “Hasn’t talked to anyone about it, honestly. It was pretty
“Well, it was dark yesterday, you know.” I lead him into my office.
His voice gets softer, fuller. “But I recognized you .” I don’t know how to respond to that, so I nod, my ponytail bobbing rhythmically. I feel him behind me, his presence; am aware of his body and how tall he is, as he shadows me all the way into my office.
“Please, sit down.” I make my way to the other side of my desk. Maybe if I stick to my usual professional role, I can regain my composure here. I run a smoothing palm down the front of my khakis as I primly take my seat. Then, folding my hands in front of me, sitting very upright, I meet his magnetic, golden-eyed gaze. Oh, yes, he’s too beautiful for me—by many long miles. Plus, he’s got to be married.
Surreptitiously, I glance at his hand, but it’s obscured behind the stack of manuscripts on my desk. Okay, no answer to the Big Question yet.
“So.” I clear my throat. “What’re you doing here on a Saturday? Don’t tell me you’re this dedicated to keeping my lights on.” As soon as the double entendre is out of my mouth, I regret its accidental escape. Thank God Michael doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Oh,” is all he says, like he hadn’t thought about it before now. “Just forgot my paycheck, that’s all.”
He reaches absently for a paperweight on the corner of my desk, moving it from hand to hand, which is when I begin to wonder precisely why he’s come to visit me. He looks down at the domed glass, studying the picture within. “Your family?”
I wince because it’s an old picture of me, one that predates my attack. No scars, just me—as beautiful, I suppose, as I once used to be. “Yeah, me and my parents.”
He squints down at the magnified image, studying it intently. I notice the way the edges of his eyes crinkle into smile lines.
“Horse farm?” He turns the picture toward me, although I know the image by heart.
“I was raised on one, yes.” I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to reveal anything personal—at least not anything more than he’s already gotten out of me. Certainly not that my retired parents live just a few miles away, over in Santa Monica, or that they came here three years ago to nurse me back from the brink.
He returns my paperweight to my desk guiltily, giving it a reassuring pat. Again, I wonder precisely why Michael Warner has come to see me, why he keeps fidgeting this way. I try a new tack. “Andrea is a precious girl. We had a really good time yesterday.”
“That’s what I heard. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did.”
“It was nothing.”
He looks intensely at me. “No, that’s not true. It was really important to her.” His voice grows quieter. “And me.”
“Well, your stepdaughter was an angel.”
“My stepdaughter,” he repeats, frowning.
“Well isn’t she? That’s what she told me.”
His whole expression darkens like a storm cloud. “Actually Andrea’s why I wanted to see you today. Don’t know how to ask this, so I’ll just do it.” Those words always seem to pave the way for bad news, and I tense immediately. “Did Andie mention her scar?”
I relax again, relieved to know what’s on his mind. “A little, yeah.”
“What about the accident? Did she talk any about that?”
I shake my head no, and it hurts me the way his face kind of falls. “Oh, okay.” He nods thoughtfully, the thick dark brows knitting together into a melancholy scowl. “I had hoped maybe so.”
“What happened to her?”
His gaze tracks back to me. “She was in a bad car accident. Something she doesn’t talk about much,” he admits. “Hasn’t talked to anyone about it, honestly. It was pretty
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