all. You—”
Alex jerked away, his ego crushed to smithereens. “Wonderful.”
She laughed. “You asked.”
“Humph.”
“The main thing is that a woman needs to think that you think she’s special. That she means something to you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. That you’d rather be with her than anyone else in the world.”
Interesting. Alex got up and strode back to the window while he analyzed this crucial bit of the puzzle. Hope rose from the ashes again.
This part was easy. Because he did think Simone was special. Goodness knew she was beautiful, smart, sexy, funny and strong. He wanted to spend much more time with her, and she knew it. She’d liked his compliment about her eyes, although he knew instinctively that sharing his feelings was the important part, not compliments.
He smiled at Laurel over his shoulder. “Thanks.”
She smiled back, but then her face tightened down and he remembered why she’d come in the first place.
“Thank you for paying my rent, Alex,” she said sweetly, her eyes flashing. “And if you do it again, I’ll kick your butt.”
Too bad, because he was determined to help her no matter what she said. “Would you let me give you money if I said I know you can manage by yourself, but I just don’t want you to?”
For the longest time she didn’t answer. Finally she dropped her head, but not before he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She swiped discreetly at her cheeks.
“It helps,” she said in a hoarse voice.
Alex decided to press his advantage a little. “How can you tell me to open up and let people in when you don’t do it yourself?”
She raised her head and her lips twisted in a wry smile. “Don’t push your luck, okay?”
That night, Simone wove her way through the neat rows of white-clothed tables and austere wooden chairs to the corner booth. Pat sat with her back to the mirrored wall, poring over her menu by the dim light of a flickering candle.
“Hii-iii.” Simone kissed Pat on the cheek and sank into her seat.
Some of the tension began to leave Simone’s shoulders. The promise of spicy chicken vindaloo, peppered naan and a glass of pinot noir relaxed her better than a hot shower any day. “What looks good?” she asked, picking up her menu.
Pat dropped her menu and scowled. “You gonna tell me what that Alex Greene was doing, barging into your office again? What did he want? No, wait. Don’t tell me. He wants to taunt you a little more with his blog. Right?”
Simone’s shoulder tension returned, along with a silly flutter in her belly at the mention of Greene’s name. “I told you earlier,” she said, shooting Pat a quick glance over the top of her menu. “We had a meeting for the auction.”
“Why don’t you let me sue his butt, Simone?” Pat hissed, her small hoop earrings swaying with every syllable. “We’ll put an end to this nonsense right now!”
Simone prayed Pat couldn’t see the hot flush creeping over her cheeks. Keeping her eyes on the menu, she tried to keep her voice strong and confident. “I don’t want to. It’s better to just ignore it.”
“ Why don’t you want to?”
The rising desperation in Pat’s tone was a dead giveaway: Pat thought she was certifiably insane for letting this insult pass unavenged. Maybe so, but she had no other choice.
“Trust me this time, okay?”
“Trust you?” Pat spat. “I hate to tell you, Snow White, but I don’t even trust my mother on things like this. Cut the ‘trust me’ bull and tell me what’s really going on here!”
Simone dropped her eyes and studied the thin trail of smoke as it wafted away from the candle. “I…can’t. It’s personal.”
“Personal, my rear! You like him, don’t you?”
She said it as if Simone had eloped with the BTK killer. Simone took a hasty sip of her ice water, careful not to look Pat in the eye while she issued her careful denial.
“Of course not! What kind of an idiot do you take me for?”
Pat
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