Debbie will have the statistics on the sinkhole study for you to see
tomorrow."
"Whoa. She sure got that together fast." She told Ross, "Debbie is the
newest member of the firm. She just got her degree. Her working
knowledge of computers is much better than Lee's or mine." She frowned.
"Boy, would I like to take more courses."
"Why don't you?" Ross asked.
"No time. Lee and I have worked our butts off trying to make ESE a
functioning enterprise." She shot a look at her partner. "I think we're
finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel."
His grimace took her by surprise. Instead of agreement, she saw sudden
doubt. "That's another point of discussion for the weekend," Lee
informed her softly, squeezing her arm a final time before releasing
her. "But, hey, it's getting dark. Let's carry on inside. Want to stay
for dinner, Ross?"
Chloe bent to retie a shoelace that needed no retying. She didn't want
Ross staying for dinner. She wanted to return to her life, and that
meant having him leave and stay gone. Naturally, he had other ideas.
"That would be fine," he said with gratitude.
But Chloe sensed something in him. As the three of them walked back down
the beach to her house, she saw the tension on Ross's face. His eyes met
hers, and she was again grateful for Lee's presence.
Then Lee turned traitorous. With a grin, he said, "There's some great
wine in the cellar, Chloe. The steaks are already on the counter. Why
don't you take another one from the freezer? I'll meet you in the
kitchen."
And he loped off.
Before she could follow, Ross wrapped a hand around her long ponytail
and held her in place.
"What was that all about?" he asked with a scowl. "You told me you lived
alone."
She stared straight ahead, looking after Lee. "I do."
Ross moved closer. His head lowered to hers. "Then why is that fellow so
damned at home in your house? He sounds like he's the live-in
chef-between the wine and the steaks. What other services does he
perform?"
She didn't like his implication. Still staring at the house, she said,
"He's good enough to bring the trash to the dump once a week and put
They had reached the base of the field stone steps that led to Chloe's
back porch. Ross paused on the first step. "And those others I saw here
this afternoon. Who were they?"
:"Workers on our various projects."
"Partners in the firm?"
She shook her head. "We hire part-time people. They're mostly students,
master's candidates from local schools like URI and Brown."
The pale blue of dusk was quickly giving way to the darker purples of
evening in a star-filled sky. Only the spill of pale gold light from the
kitchen window lit Ross's features now. It left his lines more
clear-cut, his profile more distinct and dramatic. Chloe was intrigued.
"I admire you for your dedication," he said.
She continued to study him. "Do I hear wistfulness?"
His chuckle was suspiciously poignant. "Maybe. There are times-at which,
that's a whole other thing."
When she would have pursued it, Lee's shout jarred her. "Chloe!" Her
head whipped around. "Where are the matches? The pilot light is out on
the broiler. I can't get it lit."
Ross leaned close and murmured, "And here I thought he was the one who
always came to your rescue."
She turned to defend Lee, only to find Ross's lips a breath from hers.
His eyes were glowing, his body warm though the heat of the day was
gone, and her mouth was suddenly dry. "I think I'd better give him a
hand. Pray we're not out of matches."
Her response was meant as humor, because she wasn't telling Ross the
truth. Oh, yes, Lee was a willing handyman, able in nine cases out of
ten. But they had a running gag over that tenth. Chloe was convinced,
and had told Lee as much, that his occasional flub was intentional, his
way of reminding her that he needed her, too. He never denied it. And
Chloe always indulged him. Emotionally, he gave her so much. She liked
giving a little some of that back.
Without further pause, she ran up the steps. It was only when she
reached the top and started for the door that Ross caught her hand. He
pressed something into it. She looked down at a book of matches.
"You smoke?"
"Actually," he said with a wry twist of his lips, "I carry matches
around with me just in case a pilot light goes out."
:,Do you smoke?"
"Through my eyes, when I'm angry."
"Ross, do you?"
"Smoke? No."
She sighed. "That's good. This is a nonsmoking house. If you wanted to
smoke you'd have to sneak one in the john, or stay out here with the
chipmunks."
"That's some choice. Good thing I don't have to make it. As it happens,"
he informed her, "my only vice is sex. Do we have to sneak that in the
john, too?"
She might have choked if she'd been eating. But she recovered quickly,
shook her head, and muttered a soft "Incorrigible.. ." as she pulled the
screen open. She took refuge in the kitchen, where her loyal protector,
Lee, was waiting.
And he filled that role repeatedly throughout the evening, taking over
for her when she was distracted. He was an able conversationalist, a
gracious host. She trembled to think what would have happened had she
and Ross been alone in the house. She was too vulnerable, too
susceptible where Ross was concerned. If she hadn't known it before, she
learned it that evening.
It started before dinner, when she left the two men and went off to
shower. She put on a pair of jeans and a western-style blouse that had
breast pockets and a decoratively stitched yoke. Her intent was to be
cool and at ease. The finished product, though, spoke of homespun
femininity. Had it been the pale pink of the blouse, she later asked
herself.? Or the way the seasoned denims outlined her hips? Whatever,
she caught Ross's attention. Her first step into the living room, where
the men were nursing drinks while the steaks grilled, brought Ross's
eyes her way for a perusal that set her pulse hammering. Where Chloe's
peace of mind was concerned, it was downhill from there. She wanted to
tune him out, but she couldn't.
The talk centered on business matters. Sitting quietly in a peacock
chair, Chloe learned that Ross's headquarters were indeed in New York,
but that there were corporate branches in the South and in the West.
She tried to imagine it. "You must live out of a suitcase a good deal of
your time."
"I'm used to it. Don't forget, when I was a kid my family was shuttled
around by the Army." At Lee's prodding, Ross elaborated on his
background. Chloe found herself wondering if he had ever settled down,
even for a short time, or if he ever would. She found herself wondering
how as compelling and attractive a man had avoided the lure of a wife, a
home, a family. When she was caught in the act of admiring him, Ross
smiled in what she swore was a knowing way.
And so went the evening. Lee talked with Ross, and Ross talked with Lee.
Chloe listened, joining in from time to time, trying to fight admiration
without much success.
Why Ross? she asked herself at one point. Why not Lee? The two were as
physically alike as brothers. But then, why had Ross been attracted to
Chloe rather than Crystal? Or had he? Had Crystal been right? Had it
been a case of his taking what was offered by whichever sister came
forward?
That question nagged. Had her being with Ross been pure chance? A simple
turn of fate? But what about that coin? There was nothing coincidental
about Chloe winning the toss. And Ross-had he been looking at Chloe
rather than at her identical twin sister? Had it all been by design, or
had it been by pure chance?
She was distracted as the evening waned, unaware of looks of concern
sent her way. When Lee said, "I'm takin' off now, Chloe," she was
startled. Her head came up. Unsure, she straightened.
"I'm sorry," she apologized softly. "I'm afraid I haven't been much
help. We haven't even gone over those things we should have."
"No problem." He smiled. "We'll do it tomorrow." Taking his cue from the
disquieted look in her eyes, he turned to Ross. "Are you staying here
tonight?"
"Yes."
"No."
They spoke at the same time. Chloe hurried on. "No, Ross. You can't stay
here." She was determined. "There's one bedroom and one bed, and I need
it."
"Why don't you stay with me, friend?" Lee offered-and for the second
time that evening, Chloe could have disowned him. She wanted Ross to
leave. Out of sight was out of mind. Lee's offer only complicated
things.
Naturally, Ross accepted the invitation. "No imposition?"
"No imposition. The sofa in the living room opens into a bed. The back
door will be open. Chloe will point you in the right direction." Before
she could protest, Lee reached the door. "Good night, folks." He
grinned, letting himself out with a flourish.
With a steadying breath, Chloe settled deeper into her high-backed
chair, tucked her feet under her, forced her fingers to relax against
the broad wicker arms, and looked across the room at Ross.
He spoke softly. "You really do look like a princess in that chair.
Those peacock markings could as easily be a crown of gold as a swirl of
wicker. Are you comfortable?" His eyes were gleaming, mocking.
"No," she answered honestly. "You know I'm not."
His grin held no apology. "That's a shame. I don't want you to be
miserable through the entire weekend."
"You can't stay all weekend!"
"Why not? I have a place to sleep. That Lee's a good guy."
"Too good!" she grumbled. "I thought I could trust him."
Ross sat forward, elbows on his thighs, fingers steepled. "That's what
puzzles me. I'm sure you can trust him, but I can't figure out for the
life of me why."
Chloe instantly came to Lee's defense. "He's been a true friend to me."
"Why only a true friend? Why not a lover?"
"Lee doesn't want that from a woman."
"You mean, he prefers-"
"No. No, Ross. Don't twist things." Beneath his stare, her own insides
twisted. "Lee was married once. He has two children. He and his wife
divorced five years ago. She lives in St. Louis."
"Ah. Once burned ... okay, I'll accept that."
"How kind," she murmured, but she was annoyed enough to see an opening
and take it. "What about you? In the eleven years since I knew you when,
what have you done along similar lines? Should I assume you've developed
odd preferences?"
The instant she said it, she knew it was a mistake. Good humor faded
fast from Ross's face. When he stood and approached her, she struggled
to avoid cringing into the chair. There was a hard look to him.
"Would that make you trust me more?" he murmured. He towered above her
for a minute, then bent over. His hands covered hers on the arms of the
chair. His face was too near. "Sorry to disappoint you, but my
preferences are still for the opposite sex." His lips moved closer.
Chloe looked down to escape them, but his long body filled her view.
Everywhere she moved her eyes, she saw him, one point more alarming than
the next. If it wasn't the vee of his chest, with its wisps of dark hair
edging alongside the tab of his collar, it was the breadth of his
shoulders or the lean tapering of his middle or the casual set of his
hips. Those hips told their own story. She tore her gaze away,
completely convinced of his preference.
He grinned. "Any further questions?"
The slight shake of her head was enough to bring his lips into contact
with her cheek, and Chloe was suddenly conflicted. Pull away. Move
closer. Keep your eyes shut. Look at him. Look at him. Look at him.
She looked. His eyes held gentleness now. And the same desire she felt.
So close. So far away. "Kiss me. Don't.
He did. Very, very lightly. A ghost of a touch with shuddering
intensity. Chloe's eyes were shut, her lips parted. To taste him once
more ... When he kissed her again, his tenderness incited her need. She
moved closer, clung to him with her own lips, drank in the tang of his
mouth, so moist and strong yet soft. His tongue touched hers briefly
before he raised his head.
"Definitely my preference." He spoke thickly, his breathing uneven.
Chloe was momentarily disoriented. It was a minute before reality
returned. Then she was appalled. "What am I doing?" she asked, not
realizing she'd spoken aloud. "What am I doing?"
"Letting yourself live," came the husky but gentle declaration.
Burying her face in her hands, she struggled to understand what had just
happened. She couldn't face him, much less herself. Easier to hide
behind the cascade of hair that fell forward, shielding her from the
world.
Lost in silent self-reproach Chloe was unaware that he had moved away
and returned to the sofa. He was waiting, listening, when she finally
raised her head.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she pleaded softly. "Why can't you just
leave me alone?"
He frowned. "Funny, I've asked myself the same question a dozen times in
the last two weeks." He studied his knuckles, seeming to struggle. "It's
like for the first time in years, I care."
"What do you mean?" she asked falteringly.
