forced herself to dress in her best suit: black pants and a soft cream blouse with a matching jacket. A strand of pearls graced her neck. While freshening her makeup, Joy tried to convince herself she was doing the right thing. The physical attraction between her and Sloan was growing more powerful every day. Of the two, she was the one who had to keep a levelhead, because she was the one who stood to lose the most.
On the way out of the house, Joy stopped in the kitchen and told Clara where she could be reached in case of an emergency.
“I think it’s time you took a day off, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Clara murmured, as she dried the pots and pans from dinner.
“I don’t mind,” Joy agreed, and impulsively hugged the older woman.
“Must say, you look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Clara.”
“Don’t suppose Mr. Whittaker’s taken a look at you yet?”
“I haven’t seen him since dinner.” Quickly, Joy changed the subject. “You know where you can reach me.” Joy realized the housekeeper was much too observant not to have noticed what was happening between Joy and Sloan.
“Got it right here.” She patted her apron pocket. “Let your hair down, girl.”
“Honestly, it’s only three inches as it is,” Joy said, with a small laugh as she opened the swinging door that led out of the kitchen.
She was in the marble-floored entryway when Sloan spoke.
“Don’t you ever wear dresses?”
Joy stopped and turned. He was in the living room, almost as if he’d been sitting there waiting for her. His hard expression was a shock. Sloan hadn’t looked like that since the first days after her arrival.
“Sometimes,” she answered softly. “Usually full-length ones, so I can be assured no one is going to be shocked if they happen to catch a glimpse of my scars.”
“That’s considerate of you,” he muttered.
“It’s not consideration. It’s protection for my ego. These days women wear pants most anywhere, so it isn’t any faux pas if I do.”
His eyes held hers. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you decided where you’re going yet?”
“Dan and I are going to dinner.”
“Dan?”
“An old friend.”
“How old?”
Joy inhaled a deep breath. “You’re being ridiculous; you know that, don’t you?”
“I suppose I am. Go on, go. Have a good time.” He jerked the wheelchair around so his back was to her.
“Oh boy, here it comes.” Joy moved to stand in front of him.
“Here what comes?” he barked.
“That ‘poor little boy’ act. You want me to feel guilty. You’ve even gone to great lengths so I’ll experience this terrible guilt.”
“Now you’re the one being ridiculous,” he declared, but his eyes refused to meet hers.
“Poor crippled Sloan has to sit home while his physical therapist Joy paints the town.” She raised her eyes heavenward in a mocking gesture. “I suppose you’re planning to wait up for me, too?”
Sloan’s nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed. “Get out of here.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she returned flippantly, and swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder in a defiant action.
Joy was halfway out the door when she heard him draw in a quick breath and utter something violent. She decided she would prefer not to know what he’d said.
The small apartment in the heart of town looked exactly as she’d left it. Joy walked around, inspecting each room. She’d been back only once since moving into Sloan’s. The rooms were compact and unappealing after the luxury she was accustomed to living in these past weeks. In some ways Joy doubted that her simple life would ever be the same again. Certainly her heart wouldn’t. If she had a whit of common sense she’d pack her things and leave him now before their feelings for each other developed further.
A quick knock on the door was followed by a blond head. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Hi, Danielle.” The one thing about tonight that Joy
On the way out of the house, Joy stopped in the kitchen and told Clara where she could be reached in case of an emergency.
“I think it’s time you took a day off, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Clara murmured, as she dried the pots and pans from dinner.
“I don’t mind,” Joy agreed, and impulsively hugged the older woman.
“Must say, you look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Clara.”
“Don’t suppose Mr. Whittaker’s taken a look at you yet?”
“I haven’t seen him since dinner.” Quickly, Joy changed the subject. “You know where you can reach me.” Joy realized the housekeeper was much too observant not to have noticed what was happening between Joy and Sloan.
“Got it right here.” She patted her apron pocket. “Let your hair down, girl.”
“Honestly, it’s only three inches as it is,” Joy said, with a small laugh as she opened the swinging door that led out of the kitchen.
She was in the marble-floored entryway when Sloan spoke.
“Don’t you ever wear dresses?”
Joy stopped and turned. He was in the living room, almost as if he’d been sitting there waiting for her. His hard expression was a shock. Sloan hadn’t looked like that since the first days after her arrival.
“Sometimes,” she answered softly. “Usually full-length ones, so I can be assured no one is going to be shocked if they happen to catch a glimpse of my scars.”
“That’s considerate of you,” he muttered.
“It’s not consideration. It’s protection for my ego. These days women wear pants most anywhere, so it isn’t any faux pas if I do.”
His eyes held hers. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you decided where you’re going yet?”
“Dan and I are going to dinner.”
“Dan?”
“An old friend.”
“How old?”
Joy inhaled a deep breath. “You’re being ridiculous; you know that, don’t you?”
“I suppose I am. Go on, go. Have a good time.” He jerked the wheelchair around so his back was to her.
“Oh boy, here it comes.” Joy moved to stand in front of him.
“Here what comes?” he barked.
“That ‘poor little boy’ act. You want me to feel guilty. You’ve even gone to great lengths so I’ll experience this terrible guilt.”
“Now you’re the one being ridiculous,” he declared, but his eyes refused to meet hers.
“Poor crippled Sloan has to sit home while his physical therapist Joy paints the town.” She raised her eyes heavenward in a mocking gesture. “I suppose you’re planning to wait up for me, too?”
Sloan’s nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed. “Get out of here.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she returned flippantly, and swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder in a defiant action.
Joy was halfway out the door when she heard him draw in a quick breath and utter something violent. She decided she would prefer not to know what he’d said.
The small apartment in the heart of town looked exactly as she’d left it. Joy walked around, inspecting each room. She’d been back only once since moving into Sloan’s. The rooms were compact and unappealing after the luxury she was accustomed to living in these past weeks. In some ways Joy doubted that her simple life would ever be the same again. Certainly her heart wouldn’t. If she had a whit of common sense she’d pack her things and leave him now before their feelings for each other developed further.
A quick knock on the door was followed by a blond head. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Hi, Danielle.” The one thing about tonight that Joy
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