Finger Prints by Barbara Delinsky

feel like the company….” His voice trailed off. The invitation could stand by itself. With a wave and a prayer, he shut the door behind him.
     
     
     
    Carly gave it much thought. Ryan appealed to her. He intrigued her. He amused her. He also frightened her. Since Matthew’s death, she had never been as naturally drawn to any person. Her relationship with Peter had been different—deep and meaningful, if devoid of heat. But heat was an early sign of fire. At the thought, she shuddered.
    With the struggle she was waging to adapt to her new life, involvement with Ryan was the last thing she needed. She’d had Matthew and the all-abiding love they’d shared. She’d had Peter and the warmth of an affection based on similarity of interest. She’d had more in the past ten years than many a woman had in a lifetime. More love. More grief. It always seemed to end badly. She couldn’t let Ryan in for that.
     
     
     
    What the mind resolved, however, the heart could overturn in no time. It was actually several minutes after eight the next morning when Carly found herself on the front walk approaching Ryan, who was very diligently occupied tying the laces of his sneakers for the third time.
    He looked up, straightened and offered her a self-conscious smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
    “Neither was I.” Having spent half the night debating the wisdom of joining him, of fostering any kind of relationship with him, she looked mildly tired.
    “Late night?” he asked cautiously. Her light had been on when he’d returned at one. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been alone.
    “Uh-huh.” It wasn’t wholly a lie.
    He glanced toward the river, shaking off that glimmer of jealousy, then returned a more placid gaze. “Shall we?” When she nodded, they took off slowly, reaching pace only when they turned onto the river path. They went for several minutes in silence, before Carly felt herself begin to relax. There seemed no point in rehashing the pros and cons of her decision. She knew that she was far too susceptible to Ryan’s charm. She also knew the danger entailed. But damn it, she wanted to run with him. She felt safe and happy. She deserved a splurge now and then. After all, they were only running.
    With several successive deep breaths, she shifted her awareness from the tall, lithe man by her side to the fresh, clear world all about. “Another beautiful one, isn’t it?”
    “Yup. Won’t be too many more.”
    “I wonder whether this path will be cleared in the winter.”
    “You’ve never run in the winter?”
    “I’ve never run here in the winter.”
    “You mean along the river?”
    “I mean in Boston.”
    “Then you’re new to the area?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “From…?”
    For the briefest minute she felt a pang of guilt. But she’d been given a past, an authenticated one at that, and it behooved her to use it. “San Diego.”
    “You grew up there?”
    “No. I worked there.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Teaching.” It came out more easily than she’d expected, the staccato exchange facilitated by the rhythm of the run. Had they been sitting over coffee, looking at each other, she might have had more trouble.
    “Is that what you do now?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Where?”
    “Rand Academy.”
    “Rand?” He shot her a sidelong glance underscored with a grin. “No kidding? Several of my partners’ kids go there. It’s supposed to be top ranking.”
    “We do well in college admissions.”
    “How long have you been there?”
    “Since September.”
    “And in Cambridge?”
    “Since July.”
    They ran on, reaching the bridge, crossing over to hook onto the river path by Storrow Drive. The traffic was even lighter than it had been the day before. It was as though they had the world to themselves.
    “How about you?” she asked between breaths.
    “Yeeeeesssss?” he drawled.
    “Where did you live before yesterday?”
    “In Winchester. About half an hour thataway.” He flicked his head