CHAPTER 16

So they’d already done that “Hey, I really like your place; oh please, it’s nothing like yours; it doesn’t have to be, I like it anyway, and maybe better” thing. And Chris, quite the gentleman, had sat in the living room and politely waited while she changed out of her work clothes and into her comfort clothes.

That meant her “Caffeine Junkie” pajamas. Here she was now, sipping at her mug of herbal tea, contentedly ensconced on her big, comfortable sofa. Plump pillows supported her back, and her favorite cotton throw covered her from the waist down. All of this was Chris’s doing. He’d even retrieved her raggedy teddy bear from its place of honor on its miniature rocking chair by her fireplace and handed it to her. Totally embarrassed, Dianna had nevertheless tucked it against her side and tried to act as though she didn’t do this every evening … keep her teddy bear with her, that is.

For his part, Chris now sat at the other end of the sofa from her, somehow commanding it with his hand stretched out along the sofa’s spine and his legs spread, his feet flat on the carpet. In his other hand he held his mug of herbal tea, which he hoisted to her. “This is good. I’ve never tried it before.”

Dianna grinned at him. “No, I imagine you haven’t. Guys tend to run the other way from such things. But I’m glad you like it, even if you did turn your nose up at the idea.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at her. “I was obligated to do so. Herbal tea is not macho. Real men don’t drink herbal tea. Or eat quiche. Gross.” With that, he took another sip of his tea.

“Too bad. I make a mean quiche.”

Chris shrugged. “Well, if it’s mean, that might be allowed.”

“Allowed? So what is there—a manual or something?”

“Hell, yeah.” He said this very soberly, very seriously. “You ladies have yours, we guys have ours. In fact, Dave Barry wrote it a few years back.”

“I had no idea.”

Again he shrugged. “That’s because you’re not a guy.”

As she watched him, Dianna’s heart just melted. Could he be nicer or funnier? She didn’t see how. Or more warm and tender toward her? What a great guy he was. So rare. A genuinely nice man. Her heart as thoroughly warmed by his calming presence as was her tummy from the tea he’d made them, Dianna said, “Chris, thanks for staying. I mean it. You’ve been so, well—and at the risk of insulting you—nice.”

Sure enough, he made a face of mock disgust. “Great. Now I’m nice. And apparently I drink herbal tea. This keeps up and I won’t be allowed in sports bars anywhere.”

“You go to sports bars?”

“Sure. Sometimes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong with sports bars?”

“No.” She looked down at her tea and then met his waiting gaze. “I just couldn’t picture Her Nastiness going there with you.”

“She didn’t. You don’t take girls to sports bars.”

“Meaning she wouldn’t go.”

Chris shook his head no. “Wouldn’t set foot in one.”

“So did you go by yourself, then?”

He chuckled. “No, Dianna. I have friends, you know. Remember Rick Hampton?”

She brightened. “Oh, yes, I like him. How’s he doing?”

“Good. Still happily married. He thinks you’re really nice-looking.”

“What? He said that?”

“He did. Not too many days ago, too.”

“Oh, how sweet of him. So, who are some of your other friends?”

“Is this some sort of interrogation?”

“Actually, yes. I’m trying to get to know you. I mean, you did ask me to marry you and all.”

“Yet you said no. I told you I’m not asking you again. But, anyway, my other friends. There’s Mike Talbot and Jack Kaplan.”

“What do they do?”

“Mike’s an investment banker. Not married. And Jack’s big into computers, like me. Works high up for a huge company. He’s married. They have a baby. A little girl.”

“They sound like nice people, your friends.”

“They are. All good people. Now tell me about your friends.”

Dianna shrugged. “I don’t have any, not anymore, not since starting my business.”

“What’s that got to do with it? Jealousy?”

“No. We just sort of drifted apart. I guess it was the time constraints. There’s only so much of that, and I didn’t have time for girlfriend things like I used to. And then there’s my family—” She rolled her eyes. “Besides Mom, Dad, my brothers and their wives, I have hundreds, it seems, of aunts, uncles, and cousins, all of whom live around Baltimore. We’re very close, which means time happily given to them, but still … time.”

Chris nodded. “Gotcha. What about Melanie and Paula and Mrs. Windhorst?”

Dianna grimaced. “Not so easy to answer. Surprisingly enough, if any one of them, I’d say Paula. But they’re all employees whom I like and respect, yet I don’t see them outside of work. For their part, it’s kind of hard to be friends with someone who can fire you.”

“Yeah. That lonely-at-the-top thing.” Chris took a sip of his tea. “So, anyway, are they for real?”

Dianna chuckled. “I get that a lot. But yes, they are. A totally eclectic threesome, right?”

“I’ll say. I thought everyone was in costume except you that first day. It’s interesting to me that you’re so, well, normal, and the rest of them aren’t.”

“Really? Are you trying to figure out what that says about me?”

“Exactly.”

“And what have you come up with?”

“You like eccentrics.”

“I prefer to think of them as originals.”

Chris nodded. “That’s good. I like that. You’re fostering originality. I guess that’s what it takes to be so creative.”

“Exactly. And we create from scratch every day. They might be messes otherwise, but they’re extremely effective in their jobs. So what in the world were you doing with someone like Veronica, anyway?”

Chris shook his head as if he’d just been slapped. “Whoa. Big shift in topic. Where’d that come from?”

Dianna shrugged. “Me being nosy. So, how’d you two crazy kids meet?”

Chris’s expression hardened. “That’s a long story, Dianna.”

She felt the bloom of a guilty blush spread across her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Chris. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s been a rough few days, hasn’t it?”

Nodding, exhaling his breath with a whoosh, and mindful of his tea, he shifted his weight about on the cushions as he performed a sort of abbreviated stretch. “Oh, yeah. Rough. Sorry I snapped at you like that.” He settled into position and sent Dianna a considering gaze. “Oh, what the hell, I’ll tell you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Nah. It’s okay. I want to. Basically, she was a friend of a friend. Well, my old girlfriend. My first love.” Chris grinned, waggling his eyebrows and acting like it was all too silly.

But Dianna saw through that. His first love. “And I’m guessing your first love didn’t end all too well?”

He shook his head, his expression neutral. But Dianna saw a deep shadow in his eyes. “No, it didn’t end well. Not for me. My girlfriend Mary married my best friend Joe.”

Dianna grimaced at the hideousness of that. “Oh, God, Chris. That sucks. You poor thing.”

He shook his head, quirking his mouth like no big deal. “Nah. I’ve let all that go. It was a long time ago.” He settled his gaze on her. “They’re still together, got some kids.”

“Well, good for them. But if you tell me you’re big friends with them now, then I’m submitting your name for the Nicest Guy in America award. Or the Most Forgiving.”

Chris’s frown made two little vertical lines appear between his eyebrows. “Why do you keep trying to ruin my reputation as a tough guy?”

“Oh, please. It could only enhance your rep. Women love tough but compassionate guys. Sort of a blend of knights in shining armor and marauding pirates. But it doesn’t hurt to be nice-looking or rich. All that and we’re talking a major religious experience.”

As if amazed, though not in a good way, Chris stared at her. “You women are scary, you know that?”

Dianna batted at him, totally missing him by many inches. “We are not.” She sat back. “So Dr. Frankenlawyer was a friend of this Mary chick’s? What’d she do, come on the scene to comfort you?”

“I guess. She was just what I needed at the time.”

“Really? I’m not sure I want to hear this, but how so?”

“She didn’t make demands on me. Didn’t expect me to … Hell, I don’t know, Dianna. I’m not good at talking like this. We’re like girlfriends here, you and me.”

“Well, if you’re my girlfriend, Chris, and we’ve, uh, slept together, then you know what that makes us, don’t you?”

He sat up straight. “Hey, now we’re getting interesting. This is more like it.”

Chuckling and shaking her head at his antics, Dianna said, “Never mind. I shouldn’t have pointed that out, you naughty man. So, we were talking about Ronnie the Scary.” Dianna sobered. “How was she ever what you needed, Chris? I just don’t see it. She’s mean and cold and totally not engaged emotionally. She just seems so distant. And so self-contained.”

“Bingo.” Chris slumped back against the sofa’s cushions and turned his head to look at Dianna. “Everything you just said is why she was what I needed then. She made no demands on my heart or my head when neither of them were in a good place.”

“Okay, that I can understand. Makes sense. So I’m guessing, or hoping, you’re all better now?”

He roved his smoldering dark-eyed gaze over her face. “Yeah. Since you, Dianna, I’m all better.”

Deeply touched, and yet undone somehow, Dianna closed her eyes and rubbed at her temple. The man could heal her with a word, a touch, or a single look, that much was clear. All right, then, what was this hesitation she felt, this drawing away on her part? Dianna struggled to understand—and then it came to her: If only she could get over her fear that what she felt for him, and what he obviously felt for her, was just too much too soon, something so hot that it inevitably would cool down … and leave her devastated.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

Dianna opened her eyes, directing her gaze to Chris’s handsome face, the taut, masculine angles and planes of which never failed to make her heart beat faster. “Please don’t take it back. What you said is beautiful, and I cherish it.”

“Then why did it make you unhappy?” Looking unhappy himself, he set his mug on the end table and turned his head to look into her eyes. “Can you tell me why, Dianna? Because I don’t know what to do.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. “I know, and I’m sorry, Chris. I really am. I don’t know what to make of me, either, except to say I’m just not hitting on all pistons today.”

He smiled his sympathy. “You poor kid. Of course you’re not. I shouldn’t be pushing you. I mean, look at that eye. How’s it feeling?”

Dianna cupped her hand to her left eye. “Better since the ice pack and the Advil. Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

Nodding, Chris held her gaze. “You’re welcome. And despite what I just said about not pushing you, I’m going to do it again. Here goes. I’d take care of you forever, Dianna, if you’d let me.”

The undercurrents of deep emotion ran swift and treacherous. Dianna swallowed and lowered her gaze. “I know you would. And that means a lot to me, Chris, it really does—”

“But don’t push it today, right?”

She forced a smile for him. “Right. There’s just … too much that’s happened too quickly. I haven’t had time to sort it all out and see how I feel. Well, except for this now-famous eye. And it hurts.”

“I imagine a lot of things do.”

“They do, but they’re not fatal.”

“Imagine my relief.”

“And mine.” Tucked into her end of her sofa, and knowing he was watching her do it, Dianna gazed longingly at Chris. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. So handsome. There was just something about him, something elemental or primal that called to her on a cell-deep level. Just looking at this man caused a pleasurable response in her body and made her pulse race. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into his lap and curl up like a cat atop him.

Just then, Chris put his head back against the sofa’s cushions. “I’m beat, Dianna. I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute, okay?”

“Sure. Of course. Go ahead.” She was a bit taken aback by that, but then she remembered all the emotional upheaval he’d been through today, too. Could she be more selfish or self-centered? And there I was, all “Take me home. Wah. I’m so upset. I can’t cope.” What a jerk.

Her mouth puckering in concern for him, Dianna drank in Chris’s profile. For the first time she noticed that he hadn’t shaved today. For some reason, the sight of those grown-up-man whiskers made him look young and vulnerable. She studied his face, noting the dark eyebrows, the high cheekbones, and the generous mouth. His strong jaw; the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Dianna fairly hummed with wanting to touch him. But … the poor man, his face in repose, looked dead tired. He even had bluish-purple circles under his eyes and the corners of his mouth had turned down.

Feeling suddenly protective of him, Dianna took a sip of her tea, more so she could swallow her yearning than anything else. Why had she told this kind, handsome, funny man no when he’d asked her to marry him today? Oh, come on, you know why. Yes, she did. Earlier, at her office, the moment he’d chosen hadn’t been right. She’d felt then that she didn’t know him and his heart—much less her own—in the ways that mattered. But now, after talking to him like this and being with him, she’d changed her mind. He was the one she wanted for all time.

Then do something about it. Dianna blinked, all but looking around to see who’d spoken. Then she realized the order had come from within her own heart and mind. And now, this same urgent something assailed her senses, telling her she’d better act on this feeling right now, this minute. Dianna’s heart pounded with a brew of fear and anticipation—and hope. Screwing up her courage, taking a deep breath, she quietly called out his name. “Chris?”

He didn’t answer. Frowning, though bemused, Dianna cocked her head and really stared at him, listening now and watching him. His breathing was deep and regular. His body—his magnificent body, which she knew intimately; oh wow, just the thought, the memory of his hands on her body had that secret little place deep inside her quickening—was totally relaxed. Down, girl. Smiling at him, doting and adoring, Dianna realized he’d gone to sleep.

Just then the air-conditioning clicked and whooshed on, providing a soothing backdrop of white noise much like a gentle breeze. Dianna blinked and blinked and yawned. A nap. Yes. A nap. I’ll talk to him later when we’re both rested. She put her mug down on the coffee table in front of her … and took her blanket and her teddy bear with her as she scooted down to Chris’s end of the sofa. She laid her head on his firm, jeans-covered thigh and curled up. So sleepy, and so content she could purr, Dianna closed her eyes.

*   *   *

Like a king on his throne—his posture slouched, his knees apart, his arms resting along the armrests and his hands gripping the ends of them, Chris sat in the big overstuffed chair placed catty-corner to the sofa where Dianna still slept. He stared at her, thinking he should probably leave. He shouldn’t be here like this, just watching her. And yet he hadn’t left. Why? It was simple. Because there was nowhere else on earth he’d rather be. And no one else he’d rather be with. He checked his watch. She’d been asleep about two hours.

Chris grinned warmly. He’d been surprised to wake up—surprised, first, to realize that he had gone to sleep—but surprised to find her sleeping with her head on his leg. She’d had to do that willfully. He liked that she had, too. That was a first step, her coming to him. Well, maybe it was the second step, the first one being her asking him to bring her home and to stay here with her. He’d been pretty stupid earlier today to go down on one knee and ask her to marry him. He made a face at his own expense. What a creep, man. Your girlfriend had just beat her up, remember? And that’s another thing: You pretty much had a whole other girlfriend not twenty-four hours ago. So what was Dianna supposed to think—easy come, easy go? Shit, Chris, you weren’t thinking with the right head, son.

He accepted that now. But it didn’t mean he didn’t know his heart. And right now, just looking at Dianna’s injured face broke his heart. How could he have seen that coming? Ronnie had never been violent before. Hell, half the time, he hadn’t thought she cared enough about him to work up a good temper. But obviously she did because she had. Or did she? Chris frowned. What the hell was up with her, anyway?

Maybe it was that trial-lawyer thing with her, that not liking to lose. Sure, she’d walked in on a shocking scene, from her point of view, but still … to jump on Dianna and punch her like that. Total disbelief. Way over the top. And he wasn’t buying her I’m overwhelmed with love and want to marry you routine. That didn’t ring true. To his ears, her voice had held the note of some frantic emotion. He didn’t know how better to put it. All he knew was … it hadn’t rung true and something else was up.

Chris shook his head, thinking, Forget Ronnie, man. But he knew he couldn’t afford to, not right now. He had to get her to see reason and drop her talk of a lawsuit that would ruin Dianna professionally and, he suspected, personally. She had values. Morals. That girl-next-door quality. There was just a goodness about her, a caring for people—even people like Lenny and his girlfriend and Melanie and Paula and Mrs. Windhorst—that he admired. Dianna was a gatherer of people. He liked that, too.

And he’d be damned if he’d let Ronnie ruin that about her. No way in hell, either, would he stand for her dragging his and Dianna’s relationship through the mud and the tabloids. No way. Whatever fragile peace he and Dianna had come to this afternoon he didn’t want washed away in the shame and embarrassment of a public trial with tabloid news coverage. If that happened, then forever after, Dianna would associate him with it, and nothing would tear them apart quicker.

Again Chris heard Ronnie saying how she could hurt him worse by hurting Dianna.

“Son of a bitch,” Chris intoned barely above a whisper. Feeling like he’d just been stomped on, he exhaled and shook his head, then scrubbed his hand over his face. What the hell am I going to do? Not be with Dianna so Ronnie will back off? Just let her win? He shook his head, feeling stubbornness set in. But some instinct told him to fight that “cornered” mentality and to think of Dianna. All right, so Ronnie wins. So what? This isn’t about winning. This is about what’s best for Dianna. And she’s already told you no when you asked her to marry you. Pay attention.

He knew what he needed to do, dammit. He needed to walk away. Do the right thing. Freakin’ knight in shining armor.

Problem: I can’t walk away from Dianna. This was at once a troublesome and an uplifting first for Chris. Always before in his life, with the women he’d been involved with, he’d known he could walk away and be okay. He’d lived through what Mary had done to him. There’d been other women. Casual stuff. And, hell, even with Ronnie and after four years of togetherness, he had no urge to mourn. Nothing there to mourn.

Always before, the knowledge that he could walk away without too much hurt and hassle had made him feel safe and whole. But now, with Dianna West, he wasn’t safe or whole. Far from it. Instead, he’d break and shatter if she walked away from him. He didn’t know how he knew that this early on in their, well, whatever they had together. But know it he did. And it scared the hell out of him in the same breath as the realization made him want to whoop for joy.

His heart overflowing with a sudden whoosh of love, Chris grinned at Dianna’s sleeping form, all curled up like a little kid and holding her teddy bear. Maybe one day in the far, far future, he’d tell her about the ragged end of his baby blanket that he still had—okay, it was hidden in the back part of a bottom drawer somewhere, all right? And he wasn’t even sure which drawer. It wasn’t like he slept with it or anything, for crying out loud.

“Chris, what are you frowning so about?”

He jumped. “Oh, you’re awake. Nothing. I wasn’t frowning about anything.”

Her head resting on a pillow he’d slowly and carefully substituted for his thigh when he’d awakened earlier, she looked relaxed and content, and somehow totally sexy as she called his bluff. “Were too frowning. And now you sound guilty about something.”

“Well, I’m not.” He met her gaze and held it in a challenge—then totally caved: “I still have a piece of my baby blanket that I keep in a drawer somewhere. At the back of a bottom drawer. I don’t know exactly where. And I don’t sleep with it or anything. I just … have it. I like it. It’s mine.”

She chuckled. “And no one is going to take it from you, either. I like you better for having it, Chris. Thank you for sharing.” She sobered. “Just don’t touch my teddy bear.”

He held his hands up, palms toward her. “Hey. I wouldn’t think of it.”

“Good.” She patted the pillow under her head. “I liked you better as a pillow than I do this one, too.”

“Great. I guess I need to spend more time at the gym if I’m that soft.”

“Oh, as if. I just meant you’re more … comforting. And warm.”

Something in him quickened. “Want me to come back over there?”

“Yes, but no. Meaning, I should get up.” She struggled to sit up, and Chris catapulted himself to his feet and went to help her. “Thank you. What time is it?”

She was sitting up now and arranging her pajama top. Her actions molded the stretchy material to her breasts. Chris swallowed, his gaze riveted to her wonderfully full and feminine attributes.

“Chris? The time?”

He met her amused and knowing gaze. “Time. Right.” He retreated to his designated end of the sofa and sat down heavily. “Okay.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s a little after five.”

“Are you serious?” Dianna cried. “You should have awakened me.”

“Why? You needed your rest. And besides I’ve only been awake for about ten minutes myself.”

“You poor thing. I feel so bad for you, Chris. You had it rougher than I did last evening and then again this morning.”

Though warmed and pleased by her concern for him, Chris toughed it out. “I’m all right, but how does your eye feel now? Any better?”

Using only her fingertips, Dianna gingerly probed the swollen and bruised flesh around her eye and made a face. “Ouch. My eye, to answer your question, feels like someone hit me really hard with her fist.”

“And that’s because someone did.”

“And I thought it was all a dream.”

“Not unless you include me in it because here I am.”

Yawning and grinning at the same time, she ran her hands through her hair to straighten it out. Very provocative, those thick, dark, shining waves. “Talk about my dream guy, huh?”

Chris put his heart and soul into his answering grin. “I could be that guy.”

She nodded as though unmoved, but said: “You could.” Then she looked around her living room as if she’d never seen it before. “So, anyway, I’m amazed that I’m this casual. Here I am in my pajamas and sleeping … with you right here.”

“Did you think I might steal the silver?”

She shook her head. “No. There isn’t any.”

“Yeah, I know. I looked.” A big teasing grin followed that. “But it’s not so hard to understand, Dianna. I mean, about my being here and you sleeping. We have been, well, intimate, as they say. At least now I know how you look in the morning when you first wake up.”

“And how is that?” She raised her eyebrows, evidently daring him to say the wrong thing—or maybe it was the right thing.

“Great. You look great.”

“You are such a liar, but thanks. Anyway, I guess we got that awkwardness out of the way, didn’t we?”

“Yes. And seeing each other naked. Did that already, too.” He seasoned that remark with a big-bad-wolf grin.

Dianna arched an eyebrow. “Moving along, Mr. Adams.”

Chris loved this teasing, sexy banter between them. It spoke of an easy intimacy he’d not experienced before to this degree with anyone else. “Okay, moving along in our consideration of awkward relationship moments already experienced. Oh, got another one. I’ve asked you to marry me and you said no, so I don’t have to do that again.”

She cocked her head in question. “You’re really not ever going to ask me again? Really? Ever?”

Chris schooled his features into a solemn seriousness. “No, I’m not. One per customer.”

“Well, fine, then. All that’s left is moving in together and having children, right?”

“Right. Except for our mothers.”

“Our mothers?”

“Yeah. Do you think yours will like mine? If they don’t, our lives will be miserable. I ask you because you know yours, obviously, and you’ve had the misfortune of talking to mine. So what do you think?”

Dianna grimaced and slouched down into the sofa’s cushions. “Oh, Chris, I’m afraid they’ll love each other. Wouldn’t that be awful?”

“A total disaster. They’ll compare notes.”

“It won’t be pretty. And you’d already know that if you’d come over to my parents’ house the other weekend for hamburgers when I invited you.”

“The one where your cop brother was?”

She laughed. “Are you afraid of Tommy?”

“Yes. And Edward.”

“The man’s an accountant.”

“There’s a reason why they say they’re crunching numbers. They use a nutcracker to do that.”

“Listen to you. Anyway, back to our moms. About the only difference between them is my mother knows I’m not a prostitute.”

“Man.” Embarrassed, Chris rubbed a hand over his jaw. “My mother’s got that into her head and there’s no shaking it. Hey, I have an idea. I always take her to supper on Wednesdays—”

“My mother would say you’re a good son.”

“Well, score a point for me. So why don’t you go with me tomorrow night and meet my mother?”

“No. Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Lots of reasons. One being she doesn’t know that you and Veronica broke up yet. Maybe you ought to attend to that little detail before you spring me on her.”

“Good point.”

“I know. When I talked to her on the phone, she went into great detail about how much she liked Veronica and about how you two were a serious item and were about to be married soon.”

“I never told her that. But she had this whole opera composed about how I should marry Ronnie and make grandbabies.”

“Well, that ought to be a fun dinner tomorrow … which brings me to the other reason why I won’t be accompanying you. This shiner of mine. Your mother will be certain I got it in a drug bust or in a hooker deal gone bad.”

“A hooker deal gone bad?”

“I don’t know what they’re called when it turns out bad.”

“I should be glad for that.”

“You’re very funny, Mr. Chris Adams.” Dianna suddenly cocked her head. “Hey, what’s your middle name?”

“Where’d that come from?”

“You know mine. I don’t know yours. Just trying to even the score.”

“All right. It’s Allen. A-L-L-E-N.”

“So, Christopher Allen Adams.”

“Yes?”

“Nothing. Just testing it.”

“I see. And how does it play?”

Dianna nodded. “I like it.” She got up off the sofa. “Will you excuse me? I have to go to the little girls’ room.”

“Sure.” Chris came halfway up and put a hand out to her. “Be careful about moving around on your own. Your perceptions will be off with that eye like that.”

“Whoa.” She stood there, swaying, her hand on the sofa’s arm. “You have had a black eye before, haven’t you?”

“More than one.” She started to walk away, and he called out to her back, “Hey, you hungry yet? I could fix something.”

She stopped and slowly turned around. “Well, that’s sweet. But I distinctly remember you saying more than once that you can’t cook.”

“I can’t. Maybe I should have said I could break something, then.”

“In that case, no, I’m fine.” She turned away again.

Chris grinned at the baggy seat in her loose pajama bottoms. “A can of soup, maybe? I can open soup. And use a microwave oven. Okay, I can’t. But I can call someone who knows how.”

She just waved a hand at him without stopping or turning around. “Shut up. Don’t make me laugh. It makes my face hurt, and I have to pee.” After a few more shuffling steps, she said, “Those two things are not connected.” Before she went around the corner, she turned to him, her eyes wide, imploring. “Chris, thanks for staying. I appreciate it more than you know. But I know it’s late, so if you want to get home, I’ll understand.”

He feigned horror. “You’re not going to send me out in this rush-hour traffic, are you?”

“Not if you don’t want to go. I just didn’t, well, want to keep you.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with me?” Chris crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m housebroken.”

She chuckled. “Could you be cuter? I just meant if you had somewhere else you need to be. You’ve already gone above and beyond the call of duty with me, but I—”

“Uh-oh. The big brush-off is coming.”

“Will you stop that?” She shook her head at him, as if she were thinking, Men. “Never mind. Just give me a minute, okay? If the phone rings, answer it.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Seriously. It could be about business.”

“It won’t be. It’ll be your mother or one of your brothers.”

“Or it could be my father. He likes to blow things up.”

Chris started to feel sick. “You mean like out of proportion?”

“No. I mean like ka-boom.”

“Well, all kinds of good news here. We’ll just pray it doesn’t ring then, won’t we? And you don’t lock the bathroom door, missy.” She raised her uninjured eyebrow at him. “In case you fall. Or pass out.”

“I thought for a minute I had a Peeping Tom on my hands.”

“Hey, I’m off probation for that. I was framed. But I am still facing charges on the axe-murder thing.”

She grinned at him. “Shut up.” And then disappeared down the hallway.

A moment later, Chris heard a door close. He relaxed. She’d safely made it to the john. Satisfied with how this afternoon was going and how witty and warm and funny Dianna was and how full of himself he was, Chris grinned at the living room at large and then sighted on the sacred teddy bear sitting at the other end of the sofa from him. “Hey, buddy, if this keeps going this well, you and I could be sharing living space—”

The telephone rang. Chris’s feeling of good will fled. “Oh, shit. How’d she know it would ring?” He stared stupidly at the ringing apparatus just sitting there on the end table at Dianna’s end of the sofa with the teddy bear. “Get that, will you?” he asked the teddy bear. Stubbornly, it wouldn’t. Chris grimaced at it. “Traitor.”

By the third ring, he had the handset plucked up. He punched the talk button. Knowing somehow that there was no way this was going to end well, he put the handset to his ear and said, “Hello. Dianna West’s residence.”