Man of Fate

Ava walked out of the elevator and dropped her handbag on a side table in the foyer. “I’ve been apartment-sitting for the past year,” she said over her shoulder.

He stared at her hips in the fitted jeans as she crossed the parquet floor to draw the drapes. The night before, he’d deliberately ignored her lush body in the revealing jeans and T-shirt because her injuries took precedence. But now he was able to stare at her—all of her, finding everything about Ava undeniably feminine. She wasn’t tall or short, heavy or too slim, but her full breasts and hips categorized her as a curvy woman.

“Where did you live before?”

Ava turned and gave him a long, penetrating stare. “I shared an apartment in the East Village.”

“Was your ex-roommate a man?”

“How did you know?”

“If it’d been a woman you wouldn’t have hesitated.”

Ava sat down on a tapestry-covered armchair, resting her feet on a matching footstool. “You’re really perceptive.”

Kyle approached her and sat on a silk-upholstered Louis XV bergère. “It comes with being an attorney.”

Pressing the back of her head to the chair, Ava closed her eyes. “Are you a good attorney?”

“That’s something you would have to ask my clients.”

She opened her eyes and smiled. “My, my, my, aren’t you modest?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Most lawyers I know are brash, aggressive and pretentious.”

Kyle bit back a smile. “You’re tarring lawyers with a pretty broad brush.”

“You don’t deny that you’re an arrogant lot?”

“I can’t speak for all of us, Ava. But on the other hand, the same can be said for social workers.”

“What about us, Kyle?”

“You’re a bunch of bleeding-heart liberals who believe they have all the answers to the world’s social ills.”

“Try sensitive, compassionate and benevolent.”

Looping one leg over the opposite knee, Kyle stared at the toe of his running shoe. He’d forgotten to add feisty. Bruised and obviously still in pain there was still a lot of fight in the sexy social worker. “Perhaps we can debate the merits of our professions over dinner or drinks—whichever you prefer.”

Ava recognized the silent expectation in the deep-set, slanting, catlike warm-brown eyes. Unable to tear her gaze away from Kyle’s chiseled cheekbones and close-cropped black hair with a sprinkling of gray, she wanted him to leave so she could get into bed. But she also wanted him to stay because it’d been a long time since she’d had the opportunity to talk to a man who wasn’t involved with the women or children on her caseload.

“Are you asking me out, Kyle Chatham?” He flashed the sensual smile she found so endearing.

“What does it sound like, Ava Warrick?”

She smiled through the dull throbbing in her head. “It sounds like a date.”

“Then it is. You were the one who said you wanted to make it up to me, and you can if you have dinner with me. Of course, when you’re feeling better,” he added.

Ava massaged her temples with her fingertips. “Okay.”

Pushing to his feet, Kyle walked over to Ava and cradled her chin in his hand. “Don’t bother setting your clock. I’ll call you.”

“There’s no need for you to do that.”

“Yes, there is,” he countered. “Someone’s supposed to check on you every two hours for the next twenty-four. Either you give me your number or I’ll hang out here until tomorrow.”

“Haven’t you done enough for me?”

“I just want to make certain you won’t renege on your promise to make it up to me.”

Ava swiped at his hand. “I never would’ve said so if I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s why I intend to keep you honest.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t. It’s not too often that lawyer and honest are uttered in the same breath.”

“See, Ava, that’s why we have to talk.” Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Kyle took out his cell phone. “Come now, give me the number to this place and your cell.” He programmed her name and both numbers, then leaned over and helped her stand. “Come and lock the door. I’ll talk to you in a couple of hours.”

She walked Kyle to the door, opened it and then closed it behind him. Ava tried putting what had happened over the past twelve hours into perspective but everything seemed to merge before coming apart like a thousand pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She knew she had to rest and wait for the pieces to come together.

It took twice as long as it normally did for her to shower and ready herself for bed, and instead of climbing the staircase to the second-floor bedroom, she selected one off the alcove near the kitchen. Carrying a cordless extension, she got into bed, pulled a sheet and lightweight blanket over her body and closed her eyes.

The incessant ringing of the telephone penetrated the comfort of her deep sleep, forcing Ava to open her eyes. The shades in the room were drawn, making it impossible for her to discern the time of day. Patting the mattress, her fingers curved around the receiver. She managed to find the Talk button after several attempts.

“Hello.” Her voice, still heavy from sleep, had dropped an octave.

“Ava, it’s Kyle.”

A dreamy smile parted her lips. His deep voice came through the earpiece like watered silk. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Kyle.”

“You sound sleepy. Did I wake you up?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Good?” she asked.

“Yes. That’s means you’re conscious.”

“I was sleeping, not unconscious, Kyle.”

“Thank goodness for that. Do you want me to call you again in another two hours?”