bones."
Wishing he had some defence against vulnerability, Caine drew away. He'd meant what he'd said. He wanted her to trust him—even though he wasn't sure he could trust himself. "You want promises, guarantees. I can't give them to you, Diana. Then again," he added, "you can't give them to me, either."
"It's easier for you," she began, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.
"Why?"
"I don't know." She let out a long, weary breath. "It just seems it should be."
He clamped down on the need to just gather her into his arms until she'd forgotten she had doubts, forgotten to be logical. With an effort, he kept his hands gentle.
He wasn't certain what his own motivations were; perhaps he'd never had to dissect them before. He knew he wanted to introduce her to new things—excitement, fun, passions. The knight beating down the walls for the captured princess, Caine thought ruefully. In any case, he could work out the reasons tomorrow.
"Look, get dressed, spend the day with me. The circumstances when we met weren't the best. Why don't we take a little time and see what else we can come up with?"
"I'm not sure I want to know what else we can come up with," she muttered.
"Did Justin really get all the gambling blood, Diana?"
His eyes were so appealing when he smiled. She felt herself weakening again. "I don't know. I used to think so."
"What's a lawyer but a gambler figuring odds on the law?" Caine countered. The tension was easing out of her shoulders, so he resisted the need to do any more than keep his hands light and friendly.
"The problem might be I'm not thinking like a lawyer at the moment." Then, relaxing fully, she smiled. "If I were, I could probably cite several precedents that would establish, beyond a reasonable doubt, that I should toss you out the door and go back to bed."
Caine considered this a moment, then gave a sober nod. "We could probably argue that particular point of law for several hours."
"Undoubtedly."
"Diana, I'll be perfectly honest." Still smiling, he twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. "If you don't get dressed soon, I'm going to satisfy my curiosity and find out just what you have on under that robe."
She lifted a brow. "Is that so?"
"Of course, we could negotiate." Caine rah the lapel through his thumb and forefinger. "But I feel obligated to warn you I'm fully prepared to move on this point—in the very near future."
"Since you put it that way—I'm going to take a shower."
"Fine, I'll just finish off the coffee." Caine watched her walk away, letting his eyes roam down to where the robe swung across her hips. "Diana… just what do you have on under that robe?"
She sent him a bland look over her shoulders. "It's nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."
"I thought as much," Caine murmured as the door shut behind her.
Laughing, Diana pushed open the door of the shop. "I can't believe you did that I just can't believe it!"
Caine followed her in, shutting out the cold. "It was a simple matter of truth," he said mildly. "I did see that identical lamp downtown twenty dollars cheaper."
"But did you have to tell that woman in front of the shopkeeper?"
Caine shrugged. "He'd be wiser to keep his prices competitive."
"He was about to have apoplexy," Diana remembered with another smothered chuckle. "I'd have died of embarrassment if I hadn't been concentrating so hard on not laughing. I'll never be able to go in there again."
"I wouldn't—until he lowers his prices."
Shaking back her hair, she narrowed her eyes to study him. "There's a great deal more Scot in you than shows on the surface."
"Thanks. Let's look around."
Diana began to browse through the antique shop, toying with a collection of pewter, loitering near a display of cut glass. "It's really your fault that we've been shopping for over an hour and I've bought nothing. I rather liked that corner chair," she mused.
"We can go back if you don't find anything you like better. Look here." He'd found a set of
Wishing he had some defence against vulnerability, Caine drew away. He'd meant what he'd said. He wanted her to trust him—even though he wasn't sure he could trust himself. "You want promises, guarantees. I can't give them to you, Diana. Then again," he added, "you can't give them to me, either."
"It's easier for you," she began, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.
"Why?"
"I don't know." She let out a long, weary breath. "It just seems it should be."
He clamped down on the need to just gather her into his arms until she'd forgotten she had doubts, forgotten to be logical. With an effort, he kept his hands gentle.
He wasn't certain what his own motivations were; perhaps he'd never had to dissect them before. He knew he wanted to introduce her to new things—excitement, fun, passions. The knight beating down the walls for the captured princess, Caine thought ruefully. In any case, he could work out the reasons tomorrow.
"Look, get dressed, spend the day with me. The circumstances when we met weren't the best. Why don't we take a little time and see what else we can come up with?"
"I'm not sure I want to know what else we can come up with," she muttered.
"Did Justin really get all the gambling blood, Diana?"
His eyes were so appealing when he smiled. She felt herself weakening again. "I don't know. I used to think so."
"What's a lawyer but a gambler figuring odds on the law?" Caine countered. The tension was easing out of her shoulders, so he resisted the need to do any more than keep his hands light and friendly.
"The problem might be I'm not thinking like a lawyer at the moment." Then, relaxing fully, she smiled. "If I were, I could probably cite several precedents that would establish, beyond a reasonable doubt, that I should toss you out the door and go back to bed."
Caine considered this a moment, then gave a sober nod. "We could probably argue that particular point of law for several hours."
"Undoubtedly."
"Diana, I'll be perfectly honest." Still smiling, he twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. "If you don't get dressed soon, I'm going to satisfy my curiosity and find out just what you have on under that robe."
She lifted a brow. "Is that so?"
"Of course, we could negotiate." Caine rah the lapel through his thumb and forefinger. "But I feel obligated to warn you I'm fully prepared to move on this point—in the very near future."
"Since you put it that way—I'm going to take a shower."
"Fine, I'll just finish off the coffee." Caine watched her walk away, letting his eyes roam down to where the robe swung across her hips. "Diana… just what do you have on under that robe?"
She sent him a bland look over her shoulders. "It's nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."
"I thought as much," Caine murmured as the door shut behind her.
Laughing, Diana pushed open the door of the shop. "I can't believe you did that I just can't believe it!"
Caine followed her in, shutting out the cold. "It was a simple matter of truth," he said mildly. "I did see that identical lamp downtown twenty dollars cheaper."
"But did you have to tell that woman in front of the shopkeeper?"
Caine shrugged. "He'd be wiser to keep his prices competitive."
"He was about to have apoplexy," Diana remembered with another smothered chuckle. "I'd have died of embarrassment if I hadn't been concentrating so hard on not laughing. I'll never be able to go in there again."
"I wouldn't—until he lowers his prices."
Shaking back her hair, she narrowed her eyes to study him. "There's a great deal more Scot in you than shows on the surface."
"Thanks. Let's look around."
Diana began to browse through the antique shop, toying with a collection of pewter, loitering near a display of cut glass. "It's really your fault that we've been shopping for over an hour and I've bought nothing. I rather liked that corner chair," she mused.
"We can go back if you don't find anything you like better. Look here." He'd found a set of
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