“You bet. Give my best to your family. And next time you talk to that sister of yours, tell her to stop by when she’s in town, okay? I haven’t seen Tara and that good-looking husband of hers in ages. And I bet their little girl is growing up fast.”
“Yes. Alison’s walking, and talking a mile a minute these days. Blake’s even teaching her to juggle. She should have it mastered by the time she’s two.”
Mindy giggled. “Sounds like she’s as smart as her mama.”
“I’d like to pay for my own meal,” Annie said when Mindy had walked away.
“Forget it. I asked you, remember?” He dared her with his eyes to argue.
Wisely, she didn’t try. “Then I’ll thank you and be on my way.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.” He rose with her and tossed a bill on the table, enough to cover the meals and provide a generous tip.
He felt the eyes on him again as he escorted Annie out. Again, he ignored them. He didn’t even nod to the people he knew for fear of being detained. They’d probably talk about how rude and unfriendly he’d been, but big deal. There was nothing folks around here liked better than talking about the McBrides.
It was just getting darker outside, and a stiff, early-spring breeze put a slight chill in the air that had been pleasantly warm earlier. Proving that she’d learned a great deal about the local citizens during the relatively short time she had lived here, Annie looked up at Trent as they reached her car and said, “I guess everyone in town will be speculating tomorrow about why you and I had dinner together this evening.”
He shrugged. “I’m used to being talked
about, but I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I didn’t say that.” She unlocked her car door. “Thanks again for the meal, Trent.”
The breeze had ruffled her glossy, brown hair, tossing a strand into her face and over her left eye. Without thinking about it, he reached out to smooth it back. He hadn’t planned to let his fingers trail across the soft skin of her cheek, nor to allow them to linger, tangled in the hair at the side of her face. He hadn’t deliberately moved closer, so they stood toe-to-toe, his head bent so that their faces were very close together. He didn’t intend to get lost in her big, brown eyes—but he did.
It had been a long time since he’d kissed a pretty woman, he found himself thinking. It was something he hadn’t given much thought to lately, being so absorbed in his other problems. He was giving it serious thought now.
He saw her lips tremble and knew she must have read the temptation in his eyes. He dropped his hand and stepped back—not from lack of desire or concern about their surroundings, but because he wasn’t sure just where an impulsive kiss would lead them.
If she was disappointed, she didn’t let it show. She looked quickly away. “I’ll see you next week,” she said, sliding into her car.
He nodded, then stood where he was while she backed out of her parking space and drove away.
Someone called his name from across the parking lot. He turned his head and recognized a former classmate from high school. Nice enough guy, but a real talker, hard to get away from once he got started. Trent raised a hand in greeting, then climbed quickly into his truck to avoid being caught up in conversation.
THOUGH HE TRIED to focus on other things that evening, Annie haunted Trent’s thoughts after he left her. He attempted to watch TV, but couldn’t concentrate for worrying about how frail and tired she’d looked when he’d caught her resting in Trevor’s office. He made an effort to work on his plans for the law firm’s cabinetry, but found himself remembering the sincerity in Annie’s voice when she’d told him how much she admired his work. He lay in bed later and remembered her bleak expression when she’d told him she wasn’t in contact with her parents.
Annie had gotten to him during the past couple of months. He didn’t know how or when, exactly, but somehow she’d slipped behind his defenses. For the first time in more than a year, he was spending more time thinking about someone else than himself. After all these months when he’d been the one being nagged to eat better and take care of himself, now he was fretting about someone else’s health.
It must be the vulnerability projected by her slight build and big brown eyes, he mused, crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the dark ceiling. While he knew her fragile appearance was somewhat deceptive, he still found himself feeling uncharacteristically protective toward her.
It was ridiculous, of course, for him to feel this way. He was no hero. He was hardly in a condition to take care of himself, much less anyone else. He didn’t know what had happened to leave her alone and near-penniless, estranged from her family, but he knew damn well there was nothing he could do to fix it—even if she wanted him to get personally involved, which she obviously did not.
There had been a time when he would have seen her as a potential conquest. When he’d been attracted to a woman—as he was to Annie—he had pursued her without worrying about where it would lead or what she might need from him. He hadn’t exactly kept notches on his bedpost, but he and his academy mates had competed vigorously for feminine attention. And there had been plenty of women who hadn’t seemed to mind being trophies in their game.
He wasn’t proud of his youthful record with women, but it was a part of his past that was over now—along with the flying, the traveling, the partying with his buddies. The smug assurance that had come with being young and virile and indestructible—or so he had mistakenly believed. He’d been grounded now, tethered to a place where everything he did was watched and discussed, where every action had consequences, and every careless gesture was analyzed for deeper meaning.
Even if he was the same guy he used to be—which he wasn’t—and even if Annie was the type of party girl he had once preferred—which she wasn’t—and even if she was interested in a fling with him—which he doubted—he wouldn’t subject her to the gossip being involved with a McBride would entail. Trevor called it the McBride Curse. For some reason the residents of Honoria had found his family fascinating fodder for dinner-table discussion. Annie seemed to relish her privacy too much to enjoy being in the gossip hot seat. He’d always hated it, himself.
So maybe it would be better if there were no more public dinners. No more near kisses. No more than the pleasantly professional relationship they had maintained—more or less—before.
Definitely the best plan, he told himself, pounding his pillow and settling back into it.
Now if only he could stick to it.
6
BECAUSE SHE was restless on Sunday morning and had nothing better to do, Annie found herself in the spare bedroom where Trent had left the painting supplies. She thought this room would make a nice study, giving her a place to do her paperwork. She could look for a good used desk, and line the walls with bookcases so she could move the paperbacks out of the living room.