His Healing Touch. Loree Lough

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СКАЧАТЬ back in his recliner. “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll think of something.”

      For a reason she couldn’t explain, the way he sounded just now matched the expression he’d worn earlier. Suspicious was the only word she could think of to describe it. And she couldn’t for the life of her come up with a reason he’d have to feel that way. “We could play a game, I suppose. Do you have a game cupboard up here?”

      “Actually, it’s a game chest.” He nodded at the coffee table. “What’s your preference? Scrabble? Monopoly? Life?”

      Last thing Kasey wanted to do right now was think. She wrinkled her nose. “How ’bout War?”

      “That baby game?” he said, grinning.

      “Truthfully, if it’s all the same to you, I’m not really in much of a game-playing mood right now.”

      Adam sighed. He’d never liked games. Not even as a kid. “Good, ’cause I’m never in much of a game-playing mood.”

      “Really?”

      He watched her tuck one leg under her, hug the other to her chest. In the lantern light, her hair gleamed like a coppery halo, her eyes glittered like emeralds. “Why’s that? Are you a sore loser?”

      She had a lovely, lyrical voice, too, he thought, smiling when she laughed. “Sore loser? Hardly. For some reason, I rarely lose.”

      “I see. So you turn other people into sore losers, then.”

      And that smile! Did she realize it made him want to kiss her?

      “Something like that, I guess.”

      She started to get up. “So, how ’bout I snoop around in your kitchen, whip us up a cup of hot chocolate. Or tea.”

      Somewhere under that thick, oversize sweatsuit, was a curvy, womanly figure. He knew, because earlier, her soaking-wet blouse and trousers had acted like a second skin, making it impossible not to notice. He was surprised at the caustic tone of his “Mi casa, su casa.”

      She padded into the kitchen on the thick-soled athletic socks he’d loaned her and turned on the gas under the teakettle. And as she opened and closed cabinet doors in search of tea bags and sugar, he said, “So tell me how you got into this flower business of yours.”

      “It’s a long boring story.” She shook an empty box. “And by the way, you’re out of hot chocolate.”

      “Well, one thing we’re not out of is time.” He linked his fingers behind his head.

      And you’d better spend it wisely, he cautioned, because he couldn’t afford to give in to his feelings.

      He had a pretty good life, all things considered. His mom was still healthy, thank God, and he had good friends, a good job, a nice house, a place to hide from the everyday stresses and strains of the world. Only thing missing, really, from his American Dream lifestyle was a wife, two-point-five kids and a golden retriever. The scene flashed in his mind—he and Kasey and a couple of rosy-cheeked, red-haired tots….

      Ridiculous! He could see it now: “Hey, how would you like to marry me? And by the way, I killed your father….” He wouldn’t live his dream life with Kasey.

      Yes, he’d lived a pretty good life, but aspects of it had been less than fair. Tonight, for example. He’d been sitting here, alone, browbeating himself yet again, knowing full well that he had no one but himself to blame for his solitary status.

      Still, if he’d shown a little courage fifteen years ago, Al Delaney wouldn’t have died—at least, not on that night. Adam knew, even back then, that he’d pay for his moment of cowardice for the rest of his days. And if he needed proof of it, he only needed to look into his kitchen, where a gorgeous creature was humming as she prepared him a cup of tea.

      He couldn’t afford to fall for her, no matter how cute and sweet she was, no matter how funny. If he did, well, eventually she’d find out he was responsible for her father’s death. And he’d rather die himself than have her hate him because of it.

      Keep it casual, keep it friendly. She’d be gone in the morning and he’d probably never see her again. Not outside the confines of his own private thoughts, anyway….

      “So,” he said in a calculatedly easygoing tone, “tell me the so-called long and boring story about how you got into the flower business.”

      Chapter Two

      A filled-to-the-brim steaming mug in each hand, Kasey trod slowly toward him. The tip of her tongue poked out from one corner of her mouth as she concentrated on every cautious step. Adam could think of just one word to describe her at that moment: Cute.

      Knees locked, she bent at the waist and carefully centered his mug on a coaster on the end table beside his chair. After depositing her own cup on the tile-topped coffee table, she flopped onto the couch.

      “Whew,” she said on a sigh. “I’ve developed a whole new appreciation for waitresses.” One dainty forefinger indicated the hot brew. “That’s dangerous work!”

      Chuckling, Adam lowered the recliner’s footrest, rested ankle on knee and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “You were about to tell me how you got into the flower business.”

      Her laughter reminded Adam of the wind chimes that once hung outside his grandma’s kitchen window.

      “I guess you’d have to say I just fell into it.”

      Adam continued to watch, transfixed as she gestured with small but clearly hardworking hands, her incredible green eyes flickering with wit as she smiled, pursed her lips, tucked in one corner of her mouth.

      “‘Falling into it’…now that,” Adam interjected, “sounds dangerous.”

      Her brows knitted in confusion. “How so?”

      “Well, look at those things—” He indicated the basket of cuttings. “Briars big enough to saddle, spears that could harpoon a Great White.” He met her eyes. “I sure wouldn’t want to ‘fall into’ any of that!”

      She laughed again, and again Adam noticed the way the sound of it rang inside him, like the silvery note of a bell. Get back on track, he thought. “So how, exactly, does one ‘fall into’ floral design?”

      Resting both elbows on her knees, Kasey leaned forward, puckered her lips and blew across the surface of her tea. “This stuff is hot enough to fog your glasses…if you were wearing any.”

      He wondered when—if—she intended to tell him about her work; how she’d try to keep him distracted if she decided not to. Wondered why she’d want to keep something so everyday-ordinary from him. The only reason he wanted to know, really, was to prove to himself that what he’d done fifteen years ago hadn’t destroyed her.

      She sat back suddenly and crossed her legs. “My shop is called Fleur Élégance, and—”

      “Your shop?”

      Wearing a proud little smile, Kasey nodded. “Couple of years ago, I paid off my mother’s mortgage. We’d always had this big СКАЧАТЬ