Heatwave

A wry, self-deprecating grin curved her lips. “It’s a good thing I have a sense of humor because I definitely hit the double trifecta today. Not only am I out of a job, I got dumped—at the airport of all places—and since I gave up my rent-controlled apartment six months ago to move in with my now ex, I’m out of my home.”

She folded the dish towel and draped it over the drain board. “If that’s not enough to heap on one person within twenty-four hours,” she continued, “I also discover I’m going to have a baby, my grandmother’s in the hospital and now you’re telling me that someone is trying to burn down her life’s work.” She shook her head and managed a short burst of laughter that held little humor. “I’m almost afraid to ask, what’s next?”

He wondered if she had any idea how her eyes brightened when she laughed. Or how his gut just tightened with need at her announcement that there was no longer a man in her life. Which could very well be a temporary situation for all he knew. Besides, once she told the guy about the baby, in Drew’s opinion, there was a pretty strong chance the guy would be back in her life again, provided he had any sense of responsibility.

“Wanna talk about it?” He resisted the ridiculous need to look out the kitchen window to see if a white steed was grazing nearby.

“And spread around my doom and gloom? Thanks, but no thanks.” She pushed off the counter. “I’ve had about as much as I can stand for one day.”

He flipped off the light switch and followed her out of the kitchen into the living room. “It’s not healthy to keep things inside.”

He’d bet his trust fund he’d just heard the clank of armor.

She sat in a wooden rocking chair near the fireplace and looked up at him. Curiosity filled her eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me. Obviously you’re not short on dates, so it’s not as if you’re hard up for female companionship.”

He winced at the reminder of his overloaded voice-mail box. No answer—at least none he cared to admit—sprang to mind.

He shrugged, then took a seat on the sofa. “I made a promise,” he answered evasively. Not exactly the truth, but he sure didn’t want to tell her that, in his opinion, she far outranked those other women on the intelligence scale. And then, of course, he did enjoy her sense of humor. Better yet, she didn’t appear to want anything from him, either. From what he knew of her thus far, she didn’t strike him as the type of woman to play games and she most certainly said whatever was on her mind. Traits, he realized, that were downright refreshing.