Fortunately, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He did what any red-blooded man would have done under the circumstances and stood still, admiring the rear view of Colleen Kavanaugh Sinclair in a pair of tight jeans. She came to a halt and turned her head, the abrupt gesture causing her mane of long blond hair to whip around her.
“Are you coming or what, Reyes?”
He knew she didn’t expect an answer, just compliance, so he said nothing as he caught up to her. Neither of them spoke as they walked side by side down the hospital corridor to his office.
He’d known her since he was seventeen years old—or at least, he’d known of her. They hadn’t exactly moved in the same social circle. She was a Kavanaugh, after all, and he was the son of an immigrant who cleaned Harbor Town offices
and hotel rooms. She was a daughter of a wealthy Chicago attorney who could afford to buy a vacation home in Harbor Town and provide his wife and children with sunny, perfect vacations that lasted not just for two weeks but entire summers. Colleen had been the prettiest girl in a group of very pretty girls. She’d been the best athlete, the bravest and the smartest of that elite group, as well.
Some people couldn’t help it. They were born having it all.
Of course, appearances could be misleading. Tragedy had struck Colleen not just once, but twice by the time she was thirty years old. First her father had been killed in the wreck when she was sixteen. Then her husband had been killed in Afghanistan several years ago.
He knew that for most men, the first things that would pop into their head when they considered Colleen was her good looks and effortless ability to talk to anyone. It was why she was such a talented clinical social worker, after all. She could put a long-term drug addict and recidivist criminal at ease as quickly as she could a wealthy blue blood who was struggling with his wife’s alcoholism. Eric knew that Colleen was probably born with a lion’s share of kindness and charm, but it was her pain and grief that had molded her into the person she was today.
Of course, he only knew about her kindness and natural ability to connect with other people from observing her during her clinical work. That, and the memory of a bluish green-eyed stare and a smile that could haunt a man for half a lifetime.
Sometimes he was convinced that he couldn’t stand Colleen when she turned on her Princess of the Icy Realm act, but his irritation at her was usually only short-lived. He understood that their uneasy history sparked her hostility, and she did it to defend against past hurt. Once he got some distance from her, his annoyance at her would become tinged with sadness.
He’d watched her work, and the truth was, he admired her. She was no pushover, and the patients at The Family Center knew better than to try to manipulate her. Her kindness wasn’t of the “sweet” variety, but the deep, enduring, measurable type; it was demonstrated daily through her relentless faith in people’s ability to heal and her track record for going the extra mile for her patients—not occasionally but as a matter of course.
It sucked, plain and simple, knowing he was one of the few people on the planet who couldn’t make Colleen smile. He wished he hadn’t been forced into admiring and respecting her from a distance. He’d rather be doing it up close and personal.
“I’m right in here,” he said.
She followed him into his office. He sat on the edge of his desk and observed her while she glanced around curiously and then wandered over to his bookcase, smiling when she saw a photo of a ten-year-old Natalie. Nat wore a tutu and an anxious, hopeful smile. Colleen took a few steps and looked closely at his diplomas, and then his old hockey stick from college. She sobered when she saw the photo of his mother.
There it was.
For the thousandth time, he wished the weight of the past didn’t stand like a ten-foot-thick barrier between them.
“They say that men who are so neat have something to hide,” she said briskly as she turned around. She sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and crossed those long, booted legs.
“Who are they, exactly?”
“Okay. I say that,” she replied with a bewitching little smile.
“I thought women liked a man who picked up after himself.”
“Maybe some women.” Her eyes flickered over him briefly before she glanced out the window at the brilliantly sunny fall day. For a moment, he took pleasure in examining her while his regard went unnoticed. Her heart-shaped face managed to convey delicate, feminine beauty and strength all at once. She wore her bangs long and spiky. They highlighted her large, expressive eyes to perfection. Her hair was loosely curled and tumbled around her upper arms and back, and as always, he experienced a desire to delve his fingers into those glossy locks.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” she prompted.
He cleared his throat and forced himself to focus.
“I was watching you in the waiting room when Liam and Natalie announced they were getting married. I saw your expression. I know I’m not the only one who thinks they’re being impulsive about this.”
Colleen shrugged. “I didn’t make a secret of it. My brother is a wonderful man. He’ll make Natalie very happy. You’ve got nothing to complain about.”
“And you do?”
She stood up quickly. “Not at all. I happen to like Natalie very much.”
“I like Liam, as well. I do,” he said when she gave him an incredulous glance. “Granted, I haven’t always. But he’s gone out of his way to get to know me over the past few months. I know that hasn’t been easy for him, either. I respect the fact that he’s done it for Natalie’s sake. He’s not the first person I’d pick for Nat, but—believe it or not—he’s not the last,” he admitted gruffly.
“Stop. Your benevolence is overpowering me.”
“Cut the sarcasm for a second, will you? I’m trying to talk to you about something serious. You can listen to everyone else on the damn planet. Can’t you do it with me for ten minutes?”