chased her in the garden with that worm, danced with her.
She was having quite an impact on his legendary discipline and now she was going to try to hit him in his emotional epicenter to get her programs approved. Who could resist preschoolers, after all?
Me, he thought. She was going to try to win him overto her point of view by going for the heart instead of the head. It was very much the romantic versus the realist.
But the truth was Houston was not the least sentimental about children. Or anything else. And yet even as he told himself that, he was aware of a feeling that he was a warrior going into battle on a completely unknown field, against a completely unknown enemy. Well, not completely. He knew what a powerful weapon her hair was on his beleaguered male senses. The touch of her skin. Now he could add dancing with her to the list of weapons in the arsenal she was so cheerfully using against him.
He rethought his plan to walk right into his fear. He might need a little time to regroup.
“Something has come up for tomorrow,” he said. It was called sanity.
“You promised me two days,” she reminded him. “I assume you are a man of honor.”
More use of her arsenal. Challenging his honor.
“I didn’t say consecutively.”
She lifted an eyebrow, knowing the effect she was having on him, knowing she was chiseling away at his defenses.
“Friday?” he asked her.
“Friday it is.”
“See you then,” he said, as if he wasn’t the least bit wary of what she had in store for him.
Tonight, and every other night this week, until Friday, he would hit the punching bag until the funny yearning that the glimpse of her world was causing in him was gone. He could force all the things he was feeling— lonely, for one —back into their proper compartments.
By the end of the week he would be himself again.He’d experienced a temporary letting down of his guard, but he recognized it now as a weakness. He’d had a whole lifetime of fighting the weaknesses in himself. There was no way one day with her could change that permanently.
Sparring with Molly Michaels was just like boxing, without the bruises, of course. But as with boxing, even with day after day of practice, when it came to sparring, you could take a hair too long to resume the defensive position, and someone slipped a punch in. Rattled you. Knocked you off balance. It didn’t mean you were going to lose that fight! It meant you were going to come back more aware of your defenses. More determined. Especially if the bell had rung between rounds and you had the luxury of a bit of a breather.
She wasn’t going to wear him down, and he didn’t care how many children she tried to use to do it.
CHAPTER SIX
H OUSTON W HITFORD congratulated himself on using his time between rounds wisely. By avoiding Molly Michaels.
And yet there really was no avoiding her. With each day at Second Chances, even as he busied himself researching, checking the new computer systems, okaying details of the renovations, there was no avoiding her influence in this place.
Molly Michaels was the sun that the moons circled around. Just as at the garden, she seemed to be the one people gravitated to with their confidences and concerns. She was warm, open and emotional.
The antithesis of what he was. But what was that they said? Opposites attract. And he could feel the pull of her even as he tried not to.
They had one very striking similarity. They both wanted their own way, and were stubborn in the pursuit of it.
Tuesday morning three letters had been waiting for him on his desk when he arrived. The recurring theme of the three letters: Why I Want a Prom Dress. One was on pink paper. One smelled of perfume. And he was pretty sure one was stained with tears.
Wednesday there were half a dozen.
Yesterday, twenty or so.
Today he was so terrified of the basket overflowing with those heartfelt feminine outpourings that he had bypassed his office completely! The Sunshine and
She was having quite an impact on his legendary discipline and now she was going to try to hit him in his emotional epicenter to get her programs approved. Who could resist preschoolers, after all?
Me, he thought. She was going to try to win him overto her point of view by going for the heart instead of the head. It was very much the romantic versus the realist.
But the truth was Houston was not the least sentimental about children. Or anything else. And yet even as he told himself that, he was aware of a feeling that he was a warrior going into battle on a completely unknown field, against a completely unknown enemy. Well, not completely. He knew what a powerful weapon her hair was on his beleaguered male senses. The touch of her skin. Now he could add dancing with her to the list of weapons in the arsenal she was so cheerfully using against him.
He rethought his plan to walk right into his fear. He might need a little time to regroup.
“Something has come up for tomorrow,” he said. It was called sanity.
“You promised me two days,” she reminded him. “I assume you are a man of honor.”
More use of her arsenal. Challenging his honor.
“I didn’t say consecutively.”
She lifted an eyebrow, knowing the effect she was having on him, knowing she was chiseling away at his defenses.
“Friday?” he asked her.
“Friday it is.”
“See you then,” he said, as if he wasn’t the least bit wary of what she had in store for him.
Tonight, and every other night this week, until Friday, he would hit the punching bag until the funny yearning that the glimpse of her world was causing in him was gone. He could force all the things he was feeling— lonely, for one —back into their proper compartments.
By the end of the week he would be himself again.He’d experienced a temporary letting down of his guard, but he recognized it now as a weakness. He’d had a whole lifetime of fighting the weaknesses in himself. There was no way one day with her could change that permanently.
Sparring with Molly Michaels was just like boxing, without the bruises, of course. But as with boxing, even with day after day of practice, when it came to sparring, you could take a hair too long to resume the defensive position, and someone slipped a punch in. Rattled you. Knocked you off balance. It didn’t mean you were going to lose that fight! It meant you were going to come back more aware of your defenses. More determined. Especially if the bell had rung between rounds and you had the luxury of a bit of a breather.
She wasn’t going to wear him down, and he didn’t care how many children she tried to use to do it.
CHAPTER SIX
H OUSTON W HITFORD congratulated himself on using his time between rounds wisely. By avoiding Molly Michaels.
And yet there really was no avoiding her. With each day at Second Chances, even as he busied himself researching, checking the new computer systems, okaying details of the renovations, there was no avoiding her influence in this place.
Molly Michaels was the sun that the moons circled around. Just as at the garden, she seemed to be the one people gravitated to with their confidences and concerns. She was warm, open and emotional.
The antithesis of what he was. But what was that they said? Opposites attract. And he could feel the pull of her even as he tried not to.
They had one very striking similarity. They both wanted their own way, and were stubborn in the pursuit of it.
Tuesday morning three letters had been waiting for him on his desk when he arrived. The recurring theme of the three letters: Why I Want a Prom Dress. One was on pink paper. One smelled of perfume. And he was pretty sure one was stained with tears.
Wednesday there were half a dozen.
Yesterday, twenty or so.
Today he was so terrified of the basket overflowing with those heartfelt feminine outpourings that he had bypassed his office completely! The Sunshine and
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