who’d be willing to help shoulder her burdens—not all the time just once in a while.
She slid away from Harris even though all she wanted to do was rip off her dress and say take me, big boy. Emotionally she stepped back as well. Reaching up she smoothed her hair and tried to make some appearance of normalcy even though her pulse was racing to beat the band.
She and Harris had some unfinished business before things went too much further. Because when he’d held her just a moment earlier she’d realized she already cared about this man with the dark stormy eyes. She already cared about this man who made her forget that happy endings didn’t seem in the cards for her. She already cared for this man who was watching her as if she’d turned into a deadly enemy.
Nerves assailed her and for once she couldn’t talk. He kept watching her, making her more nervous with each passing second. She shrugged and tried to say something but all that emerged was a squeak.
Harris cursed under his breath. “I need a drink.”
He paced to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey. She watched him unsure what to do next. Watching Harris drink wasn’t it.
She walked around him to the love seat facing the windows. Patting the cushion next to her, she said, “Come join me.”
“I think I’d rather take this news standing up,” he said, tossing back his drink.
“I’m not going to be delivering a proclamation.”
“Then what?”
“I want to finish our conversation from earlier.”
“Is that really necessary?”
She thought about it. To Harris life was an endless cycle of affairs. The whole evening had the feeling of ritual. Seductive though it was to think that Harris had pulled out all the romantic stops for her tonight, his posture said otherwise. He’d done this before and she needed to feel like she wasn’t one of the many with Harris. Because he wasn’t one of many to her. “To me it is.”
He sighed and ran his fingers through his blond hair. She wished she’d had the guts to run her fingers through it. She wished she’d held his head in her hands and plundered his mouth instead of being a slave to his embrace. She wished, just once, she’d have the courage to be the woman she’d always dreamed of.
Maybe tonight.
“You said something about our meeting being bad luck.”
He poured himself another splash of whiskey and knocked it back like medicine. Cursing again he paced to the wall of windows just as the fireworks started lighting up the sky. How would seeing relationships as obsessions affect a man?
It was odd to see Harris illuminated by the fireworks. He was too grounded. To nose-to-the-grindstone. Maybe that’s why their paths crossed, she thought. Maybe she was meant to show him the lighter side of life.
“I’m not sure you want to hear my thoughts on luck,” he said after a few minutes.
“But I do.”
He pivoted to face her and she couldn’t make out his features in the shadows of the candlelight room. But she knew he was sincere. When had he ever not been?
“Relationships—and I’m speaking strictly of business ones here—are hard to maintain. And then you have a common goal.”
“Men and women don’t?”
“Not in my experience.”
“You keep saying that. But Harris, you aren’t your father.”
“I know that,” he said.
She wanted to probe deeper but suddenly was afraid to. “I think we can be different.”
“Why do you think that? Is it a sop for your conscience to justify sleeping with me?” he asked. Sarcasm was his defense mechanism, she noticed.
She was willing to cut him some slack but she didn’t want to be a doormat. “That was low, even for you.”
He paced back to the liquor cabinet but didn’t pour anything, just toyed with his empty glass.
“I’m sorry,” he said, at last.
“Do you really feel that way?” she asked.
“God, no. I don’t want to talk about this any more tonight. I’m not sure any kind of luck exists. But if it
She slid away from Harris even though all she wanted to do was rip off her dress and say take me, big boy. Emotionally she stepped back as well. Reaching up she smoothed her hair and tried to make some appearance of normalcy even though her pulse was racing to beat the band.
She and Harris had some unfinished business before things went too much further. Because when he’d held her just a moment earlier she’d realized she already cared about this man with the dark stormy eyes. She already cared about this man who made her forget that happy endings didn’t seem in the cards for her. She already cared for this man who was watching her as if she’d turned into a deadly enemy.
Nerves assailed her and for once she couldn’t talk. He kept watching her, making her more nervous with each passing second. She shrugged and tried to say something but all that emerged was a squeak.
Harris cursed under his breath. “I need a drink.”
He paced to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey. She watched him unsure what to do next. Watching Harris drink wasn’t it.
She walked around him to the love seat facing the windows. Patting the cushion next to her, she said, “Come join me.”
“I think I’d rather take this news standing up,” he said, tossing back his drink.
“I’m not going to be delivering a proclamation.”
“Then what?”
“I want to finish our conversation from earlier.”
“Is that really necessary?”
She thought about it. To Harris life was an endless cycle of affairs. The whole evening had the feeling of ritual. Seductive though it was to think that Harris had pulled out all the romantic stops for her tonight, his posture said otherwise. He’d done this before and she needed to feel like she wasn’t one of the many with Harris. Because he wasn’t one of many to her. “To me it is.”
He sighed and ran his fingers through his blond hair. She wished she’d had the guts to run her fingers through it. She wished she’d held his head in her hands and plundered his mouth instead of being a slave to his embrace. She wished, just once, she’d have the courage to be the woman she’d always dreamed of.
Maybe tonight.
“You said something about our meeting being bad luck.”
He poured himself another splash of whiskey and knocked it back like medicine. Cursing again he paced to the wall of windows just as the fireworks started lighting up the sky. How would seeing relationships as obsessions affect a man?
It was odd to see Harris illuminated by the fireworks. He was too grounded. To nose-to-the-grindstone. Maybe that’s why their paths crossed, she thought. Maybe she was meant to show him the lighter side of life.
“I’m not sure you want to hear my thoughts on luck,” he said after a few minutes.
“But I do.”
He pivoted to face her and she couldn’t make out his features in the shadows of the candlelight room. But she knew he was sincere. When had he ever not been?
“Relationships—and I’m speaking strictly of business ones here—are hard to maintain. And then you have a common goal.”
“Men and women don’t?”
“Not in my experience.”
“You keep saying that. But Harris, you aren’t your father.”
“I know that,” he said.
She wanted to probe deeper but suddenly was afraid to. “I think we can be different.”
“Why do you think that? Is it a sop for your conscience to justify sleeping with me?” he asked. Sarcasm was his defense mechanism, she noticed.
She was willing to cut him some slack but she didn’t want to be a doormat. “That was low, even for you.”
He paced back to the liquor cabinet but didn’t pour anything, just toyed with his empty glass.
“I’m sorry,” he said, at last.
“Do you really feel that way?” she asked.
“God, no. I don’t want to talk about this any more tonight. I’m not sure any kind of luck exists. But if it
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