I'll settle for another tango one day."
She placed her hands on her stomach. "My tango days are over for a while."
" I'm a patient man," he said, meeting her eyes. "I'm willing to wait."
She noticed the way he took her arm again when they crossed Nassau Street, then held onto it a little longer than absolutely necessary. They both pretended nothing had happened, but she knew that he knew she'd been aware of the possibilities hidden in that touch. It was the kind of touch she understood, and her response was familiar and comforting. Nothing like the wild burst of flame she'd felt just thinking about Rafe Garrick.
They walked down to the U Store , and she noted the upscale cosmetics on display in the window. "No money troubles in Princeton," she remarked, unable to keep the edge of bitterness from her voice.
" You'll be fine," Spencer said, touching her hand for the briefest moment. He reminded her so much of Robert, the Robert she'd fallen in love with and married. Her easygoing, companionable partner.
" Short of robbing a bank, I don't see how. I'd go back to working full-time, but the doctor thinks the daily commute to Manhattan would be risky right now. I've taken on as many manuscripts as they'll give me." She'd explained that so often lately she could do it in her sleep.
" Be patient," he said. "It will all work out"
She wanted to ask him how he could be so sure , but the sun was shining, he was giving her one of those reassuring smiles, and besides, would it kill her to believe he might be right?
#
A battered red pickup truck was parked in front of her house when Molly got home. "There's nothing left," she muttered grimly. Not unless they were there to steal the carpeting. Reality had hit her right between the eyes on her way home. She'd been so dazzled by Spencer Mackenzie's warmth and concern that it hadn't occurred to her that he'd yet to offer one solid piece of advice.
The one thing she didn 't need right now was to bump up against one of Robert's thieving pals. Or, even worse, Robert himself. Although the odds of seeing Robert in a pickup truck were a million-to-one.
There was nobody in the vehicle. That didn 't surprise her. The thief was probably inside trying to pry up the nails on the wall-to-wall. She parked the Jeep in her driveway and was about to climb out and track down the perpetrator when Rafe Garrick rounded the side of the house. He had a loose, long stride that reminded her of the cowboys she'd seen in the movies when she was growing up. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs—she had to battle down the surge of heat building inside her chest.
" Hello again," she said, walking toward him.
He nodded at her. "I was checking out your backyard."
Her brows drew together in a frown. "Do you mind if I ask why?" She didn't like the idea of a stranger, a man, poking around her home when she wasn't there. Especially one who made her feel like a stranger in her own body.
" The fence needs repair, your deck's rotting out, and your lawn's the worst one for miles around. And that's just for starters."
" Aren't you the bearer of glad tidings," she said, bristling at the criticism.
She noted the tight look of his jaw. She didn 't particularly care if she'd insulted him. He was a stranger. He had no right to be there uninvited.
" I'm here to help you," he said.
" Who asked you?"
" I have your money. It's the least I can do."
" No, the least you can do is respect my privacy. Nobody asked you to prowl around my house."
" I wasn't prowling."
" You weren't invited."
He looked at her for a good three or four seconds.
"You're right," he said. "I wasn't."
" I thought you were a thief here to take the carpeting."
His expression softened. It annoyed her to even no tice. She didn't care about his feelings. His feelings were irrelevant. This was about the sanctity of her home. She didn't have much else left but she still had the right to pick and choose who spent time there.
" Why
She placed her hands on her stomach. "My tango days are over for a while."
" I'm a patient man," he said, meeting her eyes. "I'm willing to wait."
She noticed the way he took her arm again when they crossed Nassau Street, then held onto it a little longer than absolutely necessary. They both pretended nothing had happened, but she knew that he knew she'd been aware of the possibilities hidden in that touch. It was the kind of touch she understood, and her response was familiar and comforting. Nothing like the wild burst of flame she'd felt just thinking about Rafe Garrick.
They walked down to the U Store , and she noted the upscale cosmetics on display in the window. "No money troubles in Princeton," she remarked, unable to keep the edge of bitterness from her voice.
" You'll be fine," Spencer said, touching her hand for the briefest moment. He reminded her so much of Robert, the Robert she'd fallen in love with and married. Her easygoing, companionable partner.
" Short of robbing a bank, I don't see how. I'd go back to working full-time, but the doctor thinks the daily commute to Manhattan would be risky right now. I've taken on as many manuscripts as they'll give me." She'd explained that so often lately she could do it in her sleep.
" Be patient," he said. "It will all work out"
She wanted to ask him how he could be so sure , but the sun was shining, he was giving her one of those reassuring smiles, and besides, would it kill her to believe he might be right?
#
A battered red pickup truck was parked in front of her house when Molly got home. "There's nothing left," she muttered grimly. Not unless they were there to steal the carpeting. Reality had hit her right between the eyes on her way home. She'd been so dazzled by Spencer Mackenzie's warmth and concern that it hadn't occurred to her that he'd yet to offer one solid piece of advice.
The one thing she didn 't need right now was to bump up against one of Robert's thieving pals. Or, even worse, Robert himself. Although the odds of seeing Robert in a pickup truck were a million-to-one.
There was nobody in the vehicle. That didn 't surprise her. The thief was probably inside trying to pry up the nails on the wall-to-wall. She parked the Jeep in her driveway and was about to climb out and track down the perpetrator when Rafe Garrick rounded the side of the house. He had a loose, long stride that reminded her of the cowboys she'd seen in the movies when she was growing up. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs—she had to battle down the surge of heat building inside her chest.
" Hello again," she said, walking toward him.
He nodded at her. "I was checking out your backyard."
Her brows drew together in a frown. "Do you mind if I ask why?" She didn't like the idea of a stranger, a man, poking around her home when she wasn't there. Especially one who made her feel like a stranger in her own body.
" The fence needs repair, your deck's rotting out, and your lawn's the worst one for miles around. And that's just for starters."
" Aren't you the bearer of glad tidings," she said, bristling at the criticism.
She noted the tight look of his jaw. She didn 't particularly care if she'd insulted him. He was a stranger. He had no right to be there uninvited.
" I'm here to help you," he said.
" Who asked you?"
" I have your money. It's the least I can do."
" No, the least you can do is respect my privacy. Nobody asked you to prowl around my house."
" I wasn't prowling."
" You weren't invited."
He looked at her for a good three or four seconds.
"You're right," he said. "I wasn't."
" I thought you were a thief here to take the carpeting."
His expression softened. It annoyed her to even no tice. She didn't care about his feelings. His feelings were irrelevant. This was about the sanctity of her home. She didn't have much else left but she still had the right to pick and choose who spent time there.
" Why
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