know if the spark was still there. It was. When she looked at him, there was a flutter of something that shouldn’t exist for a man she barely knew. Barely knew now, but that could be fixed.
“Why don’t you join me for a muffin and a coffee?” She tilted her head at the café.
He glanced over at the building and for a second she thought he was going to say no. She was too forward; she’d been told that before. Maybe he was just being polite in speaking to her; after all, she’d seen him while he as in a pretty bad place, but then again, he’d been here waiting. She held her breath for a heartbeat.
Then he shook his head. “I’ve no money on me.”
Ah, so either he didn’t want to talk to her or he really had no money. She glanced over his clothes again. He wasn’t dressed for running and he wasn’t dressed for an office job either. But he was clean and neat, in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, but he could be one of those people who refused to let others see the real mess and who carried on as if everything was fine regardless of the cracks. And something had cracked for him to come into the hospital—but back then he’d actually look disheveled.
Now he looked like everyone else until she looked in his eyes. There was an edge and a hurt she should be wary of, but there were people in the café, and it wasn’t like she was going anywhere alone with him. Besides, if he’d meant her harm, he wouldn’t have helped her twice.
She stood and held her hand out to him, offering him the assistance this time. “My treat.”
He paused for a moment as if reluctant. She could almost see him battling with his pride. This was a man not used to needing help and almost resenting it. Who was he and what had happened?
His fingers closed around hers and a jolt of electricity ran under her skin. There was something there—enough for her to continue believing that she was right: the spark couldn’t be grown over time. It was there or not. But just because it was there didn’t mean it had to be acted on. Meryn was a handsome stranger. His dark hair was pushed back of his face, the ends brushing his shoulders. Beneath the fabric of the long-sleeved T-shirt, she could see the curve of muscle. She was willing to bet that if he stripped off the shirt, he’d be lean and fit. She suppressed the smile that wanted to form at the idea. She shouldn’t be imagining him without his shirt on. Maybe once her curiosity had worn away there’d be nothing left. Yeah, professional interest. She didn’t believe it, but she refused to let herself think it could be anything else. Anything else was dangerous.
“Thank you,” he said simply as he stood. He didn’t release her hand as they walked to the short distance to the café.
While she could’ve pulled her hand free, she didn’t. She didn’t want to. She liked the touch of his rough palm against hers and the light pressure of his fingers. She couldn’t remember the last man she’d let hold her hand. They tended to lead her around like they were showing off what was on their arm. But Meryn wasn’t like any other man she’d known.
“Can I ask a question?” She glanced at him, aware of the heat seeping from his palm and into hers.
“You don’t need permission.”
Maybe not, but there was an air about him like he wasn’t used to being questioned about anything. “Why do you speak Latin?”
A frown crossed his face for a half second before he answered. “I had to learn.”
She waited for more but he didn’t give her anything else. Where did he go to school to learn Latin? Or what had he done that made it a requirement? She tried to study him without staring. He waited for her to ask another question or continue the conversation. How much could she ask before he would think her rude? She took the gamble and asked the question she needed answered.
“What was wrong with you the other night?”
Meryn stopped walking and looked down at his feet. “I am sorry about
“Why don’t you join me for a muffin and a coffee?” She tilted her head at the café.
He glanced over at the building and for a second she thought he was going to say no. She was too forward; she’d been told that before. Maybe he was just being polite in speaking to her; after all, she’d seen him while he as in a pretty bad place, but then again, he’d been here waiting. She held her breath for a heartbeat.
Then he shook his head. “I’ve no money on me.”
Ah, so either he didn’t want to talk to her or he really had no money. She glanced over his clothes again. He wasn’t dressed for running and he wasn’t dressed for an office job either. But he was clean and neat, in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, but he could be one of those people who refused to let others see the real mess and who carried on as if everything was fine regardless of the cracks. And something had cracked for him to come into the hospital—but back then he’d actually look disheveled.
Now he looked like everyone else until she looked in his eyes. There was an edge and a hurt she should be wary of, but there were people in the café, and it wasn’t like she was going anywhere alone with him. Besides, if he’d meant her harm, he wouldn’t have helped her twice.
She stood and held her hand out to him, offering him the assistance this time. “My treat.”
He paused for a moment as if reluctant. She could almost see him battling with his pride. This was a man not used to needing help and almost resenting it. Who was he and what had happened?
His fingers closed around hers and a jolt of electricity ran under her skin. There was something there—enough for her to continue believing that she was right: the spark couldn’t be grown over time. It was there or not. But just because it was there didn’t mean it had to be acted on. Meryn was a handsome stranger. His dark hair was pushed back of his face, the ends brushing his shoulders. Beneath the fabric of the long-sleeved T-shirt, she could see the curve of muscle. She was willing to bet that if he stripped off the shirt, he’d be lean and fit. She suppressed the smile that wanted to form at the idea. She shouldn’t be imagining him without his shirt on. Maybe once her curiosity had worn away there’d be nothing left. Yeah, professional interest. She didn’t believe it, but she refused to let herself think it could be anything else. Anything else was dangerous.
“Thank you,” he said simply as he stood. He didn’t release her hand as they walked to the short distance to the café.
While she could’ve pulled her hand free, she didn’t. She didn’t want to. She liked the touch of his rough palm against hers and the light pressure of his fingers. She couldn’t remember the last man she’d let hold her hand. They tended to lead her around like they were showing off what was on their arm. But Meryn wasn’t like any other man she’d known.
“Can I ask a question?” She glanced at him, aware of the heat seeping from his palm and into hers.
“You don’t need permission.”
Maybe not, but there was an air about him like he wasn’t used to being questioned about anything. “Why do you speak Latin?”
A frown crossed his face for a half second before he answered. “I had to learn.”
She waited for more but he didn’t give her anything else. Where did he go to school to learn Latin? Or what had he done that made it a requirement? She tried to study him without staring. He waited for her to ask another question or continue the conversation. How much could she ask before he would think her rude? She took the gamble and asked the question she needed answered.
“What was wrong with you the other night?”
Meryn stopped walking and looked down at his feet. “I am sorry about
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