fireball, and she clenched her hands at her sides.
“What do you want?” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance or anger in her voice.
He blinked, and his smile drooped a bit, but he managed to maintain it. “I came to see you.”
“You haven’t given a damn about me in ten years. What’s so special about now? Are you dying?
Or have you come to assuage some misplaced sense 10
of guilt? Either way, the café has very good takeout I believe you would enjoy.”
He chuckled, and it produced an ache in areas she didn’t want to acknowledge. “I suppose I deserve that, but you’re wrong, Symmone. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.” His quiet admission stayed her irritation. “And I was wrong to do what I did.”
Tears burned and clogged the back of her throat. Somehow he’d stolen all of her righteous indignation with a few short sentences. “Well, I’m glad to hear you admit it. So is this what makes amends for anyone you’ve wronged? Fine. You’re forgiven. You may go.” She spun on her heel, would’ve made a clean getaway, except he grabbed her wrist. The chair scraped across the 11
floor, and a moment later the hard line of his body met her back.
Need slammed through her system, sparking little used nerves and sending her pulse into overdrive. The heady scent of his cologne, a little pine and sage, promised slow, sensual seduction.
She whirled around and snapped her gaze to his face. Molten desire shone in the depths of Leo’s milk chocolate eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. She never expected to see such passion on his face, not after all this time. Biting her lip against the answering wave of desire pulsing through her veins, she snatched her hand away.
“Don’t touch me again!”
He backed up, hands raised. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just”—he inhaled—“I want to talk to you, Symmone. I meant what I said. There has been no 12
one else since you and, well, I would really like to take you out to dinner tonight.”
Dinner? She pierced him with an icy stare and savored a small victory when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m. Busy.”
Nodding, he reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a card, and laid it on the table.
“If you change your mind, my cell is at the bottom and my hotel is on the back.” His gaze lingered on her a moment. “If I don’t hear from you, I will be back every day until you agree to see me.”
He brushed past and she stared after him, dumbfounded. What game was he playing now?
****
Symmone was still worrying about her ex’s motivation for returning when she dragged her weary, aching body across the threshold of her 13
house. She closed the door and leaned against the wood, closing her eyes.
Even though she was home, the real work was just beginning. Small arms circled her waist and squeezed. A soft smile curved her lips, and she returned the hug.
“Well, hello to you too, sweetheart. How was school?” She stroked the little girl’s back.
“Fine. LJ got in a fight.”
“Did not!” came the indignant reply.
Symmone let out an exaggerated sigh and both children fell silent. “I just need five minutes.
Please.” She looked from her son to her daughter and back again. “And since I didn’t get a call from the school, we’ll talk about your behavior.”
14
LJ nodded solemnly. “But I really didn’t get into a fight. I didn’t even go to the principal’s office.”
She beckoned the little boy over, and he dragged his feet. All she did was give him a quick hug. “We’ll talk about what happened in a bit.”
She stroked the face of each child. “Now go show me what you did today.”
Both hurried off to grab their schoolwork.
Symmone set her purse on the small table and ambled down the short hall until she came to an open doorway on the right. Standing at an electric stove in dire need of a junkyard was Melvin. He stirred something that looked suspiciously like spaghetti sauce. She gave the air
“What do you want?” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance or anger in her voice.
He blinked, and his smile drooped a bit, but he managed to maintain it. “I came to see you.”
“You haven’t given a damn about me in ten years. What’s so special about now? Are you dying?
Or have you come to assuage some misplaced sense 10
of guilt? Either way, the café has very good takeout I believe you would enjoy.”
He chuckled, and it produced an ache in areas she didn’t want to acknowledge. “I suppose I deserve that, but you’re wrong, Symmone. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.” His quiet admission stayed her irritation. “And I was wrong to do what I did.”
Tears burned and clogged the back of her throat. Somehow he’d stolen all of her righteous indignation with a few short sentences. “Well, I’m glad to hear you admit it. So is this what makes amends for anyone you’ve wronged? Fine. You’re forgiven. You may go.” She spun on her heel, would’ve made a clean getaway, except he grabbed her wrist. The chair scraped across the 11
floor, and a moment later the hard line of his body met her back.
Need slammed through her system, sparking little used nerves and sending her pulse into overdrive. The heady scent of his cologne, a little pine and sage, promised slow, sensual seduction.
She whirled around and snapped her gaze to his face. Molten desire shone in the depths of Leo’s milk chocolate eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. She never expected to see such passion on his face, not after all this time. Biting her lip against the answering wave of desire pulsing through her veins, she snatched her hand away.
“Don’t touch me again!”
He backed up, hands raised. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just”—he inhaled—“I want to talk to you, Symmone. I meant what I said. There has been no 12
one else since you and, well, I would really like to take you out to dinner tonight.”
Dinner? She pierced him with an icy stare and savored a small victory when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m. Busy.”
Nodding, he reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a card, and laid it on the table.
“If you change your mind, my cell is at the bottom and my hotel is on the back.” His gaze lingered on her a moment. “If I don’t hear from you, I will be back every day until you agree to see me.”
He brushed past and she stared after him, dumbfounded. What game was he playing now?
****
Symmone was still worrying about her ex’s motivation for returning when she dragged her weary, aching body across the threshold of her 13
house. She closed the door and leaned against the wood, closing her eyes.
Even though she was home, the real work was just beginning. Small arms circled her waist and squeezed. A soft smile curved her lips, and she returned the hug.
“Well, hello to you too, sweetheart. How was school?” She stroked the little girl’s back.
“Fine. LJ got in a fight.”
“Did not!” came the indignant reply.
Symmone let out an exaggerated sigh and both children fell silent. “I just need five minutes.
Please.” She looked from her son to her daughter and back again. “And since I didn’t get a call from the school, we’ll talk about your behavior.”
14
LJ nodded solemnly. “But I really didn’t get into a fight. I didn’t even go to the principal’s office.”
She beckoned the little boy over, and he dragged his feet. All she did was give him a quick hug. “We’ll talk about what happened in a bit.”
She stroked the face of each child. “Now go show me what you did today.”
Both hurried off to grab their schoolwork.
Symmone set her purse on the small table and ambled down the short hall until she came to an open doorway on the right. Standing at an electric stove in dire need of a junkyard was Melvin. He stirred something that looked suspiciously like spaghetti sauce. She gave the air
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