He’d never been kissed like this before, and he held her there, enjoying the journey through this uncharted and gentle place

She caressed the back of his head, and when he thought she was separating from him, he was filled with irrational longing, and he grabbed her arms and used his lips to capture her by the chin.

He’d seen animals mate on nature shows, their foreplay of nipping one another playful and gentle, and he understood that visceral animalistic instinct to claim one and make that one his own.

Purring started deep in her belly, and he put his arms around her, knowing she felt that magnetism too, and when the moans were nearly out of her, he sealed her mouth with his so they released into him.

The pressure of her mouth lessened and she eased off her toes, her hands busy at his waist. Her fingers tangled with his as they battled for who’d get his belt loosened first.

“Let me.”

“I can do it faster,” he told her.

CARMEN GREEN

was born in Buffalo, New York, and had plans to study law before becoming a published author. While raising her three children, she wrote her first book on legal pads and transcribed it onto a computer on weekends before selling it in 1993. Since that time she has sold more than thirty novels and novellas, and is proud that one of her books was made into a 2001 TV movie, Commitments, in which she had a cameo role.

In addition to writing full-time, Carmen is now a mom of four, and lives in the Southeast. You can contact Carmen at www.carmengreen.blogspot.com or carmengreen1201@yahoo.com.

Sensual Winds

Carmen Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Lori Bryant Woolridge, Nina Foxx, Martrice Denson.

I’ll cherish our friendship always.

To the Sparrow. I’ll see you in the Rapture someday.

Dear Reader,

To the sensual backdrop of Herbie Hancock’s CD Possibilities, Brenda Jackson and I brainstormed our MOTHER NATURE MATCHMAKER novels over the phone one evening.

I am always honored to work with a master, and Brenda is one of the best in our profession. She’s chock-full of ideas and always respectful of mine. Ironically, when we got on the phone, we both had our TVs tuned to the same station and the documentary was chronicling how Herbie created his masterpiece. My favorite song on the CD? “A Song for You.”

I’m honored to have worked with Brenda and Celeste Norfleet on this series, and I want you all to enjoy our highly favored men of Key West. My thanks to Brenda and Celeste and to you all for giving us the opportunity to entertain you once again.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on my book Sensual Winds. Write to me at carmengreen.blogspot.com or carmengreen1201@yahoo.com.

Blessings,

Carmen

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 1

There was a rhythm to New York City at 7:00 p.m. that no other city could duplicate. Throngs of people streamed down sidewalks and into streets, the innocuous traffic lights controlling every man and woman, car, taxi and bus.

Today Manhattan was a little different; brightened by the mayor, who’d declared it Smile Day. Dozens of volunteers had been dispatched around Manhattan to take pictures of anyone who was smiling, and then they were given their photo.

Today, everybody was smiling in New York City at dusk.

Ten floors up from the bustling streets, Doreen Gamble sat at her desk and touched the corner of her smiling photo. Her pace had been frenetic at lunch. She had been trying to balance a tray of two large cups of green tea, a boxy Crate and Barrel wedding gift for a coworker, a prized bag of Christian Louboutin silk lace-up sandals and a political magazine when she’d been asked if she wanted to brighten up New York with her smile. It didn’t hurt that the photographers had goofy Smile tiaras on their heads.

They’d been so irresistible, she’d been glad to show off her whitened, otherwise uncorrected thirty-twos. She didn’t even mind donating to the charity that supported the 9/11 memorial fund. She’d arrived back at work feeling as if she’d done some good for the world.

The back line rang, and her thoughts returned to the here and now. Doreen hoped it was Lucas. Lately, his no-news updates had left her disappointed, but she hoped he had some good news today.

“Good morning—evening, sorry,” Doreen corrected, shoving her long hair behind her ear. “How may I help you?”

“You work so much you don’t even know if it’s day or night? Tell that woman of mine to give you a day off.”

Lucas McCoy’s voice had the power to make her feel as if even on her worst day she was the prettiest girl in the room. If he made every woman feel this way, it was no wonder he did more renovation jobs for women than men.

Who could help having a tiny crush on him? She couldn’t.

“Put me on webcam, Doreen,” he said. She blushed, wishing she’d had a few extra minutes to fix herself up. Lucas wasn’t her man, but she still didn’t want to look bad to him.

She did as he instructed. “We’re on. Hey there,” she said, seeing the handsome man who was in his jeans and T-shirt.

“Hi.” He waved. “Now, about the crazy hours you work. You need to stand up for yourself. Stomp around your desk with your picket sign. She’ll get the hint.”

Doreen laughed. “Yeah, okay. I like having a job. Besides, would she care? I don’t think so. My job is to be here, at seven at night, waiting for a phone call from that crazy, distant place called Key West, and a man named Lucas who’s calling to tell me about an Alfiere Italian sink. Tell me you have good news.”

She’d said it all as if she were in a poetry reading, letting the words drop and roll in all the right places.

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, trying to look sad. “This is a ‘bad news, good news’ webcam call.”

Doreen groaned. “I have to say, Lucas, I’m disappointed.”

“And if you make that sound again, I’ll be coming through the camera to make that disappointment go away.”

“Lucas McCoy, you’re an engaged man,” she chastised, her neck burning at the volley. Lucas’s good looks hadn’t been lost on Doreen. She had always been attracted to tall men, considering she was five-ten.

He looked like the corporate type, too, with short hair and a sexy goatee, and smooth, chocolate-colored skin that reminded her of melted kisses. She knew from her boss that he was thirty; in fact, Emma had boasted about dating a man nine years younger. But Lucas was the perfect age for her, only a year older.

“Doreen, where has that wandering mind taken you?”

She shook herself. “Nowhere, Lucas. What did you say?” Guiltily she paid attention.

“You know my fiancée hasn’t been down here in eight months, and if she doesn’t get her butt down here soon, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Emma wants to see you, but her promotion means big things here at Regents Cable.” Doreen sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, relieved he still sounded playful. “She’s the first black woman to hold the title of VP of urban development, and they’re expecting great things from her.”

“I know.” Lucas didn’t look like he cared one thing about the excuse. “I’m not begrudging her career success. Not for a second. But a man needs his woman, especially one he’s proposed to. Anyway, we’ll work it out. Meanwhile, let me update you on the renovations.”

Happy to be on safer ground, Doreen rested her elbow on the desk and sighed. “Let me guess. Which wall have you knocked down now?”

“I haven’t knocked down any walls. All fifteen rooms have walls. The library, great room, game room, kitchen, laundry room, both offices, tackle room and—”

“Hold it. What’s a tackle room?”

“A room for when I come in from fishing. I need a room for my tackle.” He looked serious as he said it until he started laughing. “I needed a couple sinks to gut and clean the fish, too. Not unless she wants me in the kitchen, and I just don’t see that happening.”

He sounded like the old Lucas now. The fun-loving, happy guy who used to call several times a day seeking Emma’s advice. Initially Emma had sounded happy about the house Lucas had been renovating for them in Key West, then she’d come in one day and confessed over a nonfat latte that she wasn’t interested in wallpaper swatches and drywall width, so she’d dropped the whole project and his calls into Doreen’s lap. Now they talked about everything from wood to wallpaper every day.

Doreen pretended to shiver. “I’ve seen one fish gutted and I don’t ever have to see it again,” she said. His laughter conjured up for her sexy, if illicit, images of him. “Go on.”

“The formal dining and breakfast rooms are done. Oh, and the master suite is done. One bedroom upstairs is done, but we’re still working on the foyer. The floor in the powder room on the main level needs a little work, and of course the other three bedrooms are unfinished. Those are rooms Emma won’t want to use right away, but if I have my say…”

He was talking about children, of course. Which Emma had confessed to her just last week she’d never really wanted.

“I’m sure you’ll compromise,” Doreen said, hating knowing Emma’s side while hearing the wistful dreams in Lucas’s voice. Doreen couldn’t look at him. Who wouldn’t want kids with him? She’d grown up alone and had longed for brothers and sisters, if only to fill the loneliness of losing her mother early.

“Doreen, I can practically hear my biological clock ticking.”

Laughter snaked out of her like a curl of smoke. “You are out of your mind today, Lucas. What’s up with you?”

He groaned. “The question is what’s right. Nothing. Must be this Hurricane Ana. Gorgeous name for a woman, but the storm’s a real witch. She came through a couple days ago and she’s still dogging our island. We need a break. I need some vitamin D, some sunshine, wine and a good woman.”

“I’ve heard the reports, Lucas. But I thought you grew up in Key West. You’re not used to the weather down there?”

“I am, but I spent a lot of time in New York as a young man. My father was from Harlem and my mother from the Keys. My father wanted me to be a stockbroker like him. I became one and hated it.”

“When did you have time for that and school to become an architect?”

“You have to have a major and a minor,” he said, smiling.

“My goodness,” she said, impressed. “You must have been some type of genius.”

Lucas pretended to straighten a tie he wasn’t wearing. “You know I try to tell my best friends, Stephen and Terrence, to bow to my brilliance, but they don’t give a damn. They’re always telling me to shut up.”

Doreen burst out laughing. “Do they beat you up a little, too?”

“They know better.”

“So, what’s going on with the marble? You never told me. Are you still holding out hope that it will come in? If you are, forget it. It’s not too late to go with bamboo. Innovative, right?”

She nervously fingered her hair, hoping he’d take the bait and not want to talk about Emma. Doreen didn’t think she could handle a talk about what he should do about her boss.

“More like crazy. Stop worrying. I’ve got a guy.”

Doreen started laughing again. She loved the expression “I’ve got a guy.” Here in the city, having “a guy” usually involved something illegal. “Lucas, I’m hanging up now. I’m not listening to your story about how something fell off the back of a truck.”

“Ms. Gamble, I’m appalled at the direction of your thoughts. I would never participate in anything unsavory.”

“What about Mo?”

“I plead the Fifth on Mo. I don’t know what the hell he does,” he said, and they both chuckled. “I thought you wanted to hear about your sink?”

Her sink.

Now that was quite an oxymoron. The sink was no more hers than the house was. She was merely stepping in for her boss. Emma had cringed at the idea of domestication, preferring the big paycheck. She’d been unflinching in her quest for success, practicing her acquired skill set of delegating with executive aplomb.

“Lucas to Doreen,” he singsonged when her attention wavered again. “What’s with you today?”

“Just thinking of all the things I have to do when I get home. Forgive me. Please tell me about m—the sink.”

“Okay.” The excitement was all over his face. “The Italian-designed, ceramic-valve construction and polished chrome fit perfectly in that small space. It totally complements the wall coloring you suggested last month.”

Lucas’s voice had dropped as if he were now reading poetry.

“It’s sexy, if I can use that term to describe a bathroom sink. One of the best choices you made for this house.”

Joy was one of those emotions Doreen rarely felt, but Lucas’s compliment made her feel a deep sense of satisfaction. She could hardly stop herself from floating out of her West Forty-Fourth Street window. Doreen planted her cheek on her hand. “You flatter me. Please, make me feel good some more.”

“When you say it like that, I feel obligated to tell you that I’m promised to another woman—but if I weren’t, I’d take you up on your offer.”

Doreen couldn’t believe that a tiny scream leapt out of her mouth. Lucas’s voice had struck the right note at the heart of her loneliness. “I’d better go. I believe that I have a brain leak that needs to be plugged with food and sleep.”

“No harm done,” he said, laughing.

Doreen put her hand over the webcam to experience the full bloom of embarrassment. Could she humiliate herself any further?

Lucas was so cool about everything, but she needed to sever these evening talks. All of her friends had said so. Doreen took her hand off the camera and stood up, the nonverbal cue that a meeting was over. “No harm except to my ego,” she admitted. “Have a good night, Lucas.”

“Hey, don’t go. We’re cool, okay? I still haven’t gotten my furniture yet.”

He didn’t want to hang up. Damn Emma!

Doreen shook her head, locking her knees, making herself remain standing. “You have lawn chairs. Bring them inside and watch your too-big television and eat off paper plates.”

“Now you’re being cruel. They’re reinforced cardboard or something.”

“Only the best for you,” she said, the marquee down the street flashing the start time of The Color Purple.

“I need to speak to Emma. Is she around?”

Doreen looked over her shoulder to her boss’s closed door and shook her head. “No, she’s in a meeting. I’ll leave a note for her to call you, okay?”

“Doreen, I hope I didn’t offend you earlier.”

“No. I have guy friends and they tease me all the time.” Liar. She straightened her already-tidy desk, willing her legs to relax before she got a charley horse.

“Good,” he said, unaware of the lingering pain she felt at not having a man for herself. But that wasn’t his business. “Emma knew I was calling, right?”

She felt as if he was right next to her. “Yes, I gave her your message this morning.”

“And her schedule was clear at that time.”

Doreen bit her lip, saying nothing. As big as her crush was, she couldn’t tell him that Emma had reviewed the message on her computer and deleted it within seconds. Doreen couldn’t say that. She wished he couldn’t even see her.

“I need to speak to her right now. I need to know what time to pick her up from the airport tomorrow.” He said it as if it were a challenge she could promptly rise to meet.

Doreen’s fingers quickly flew across the keyboard, accessing Emma’s schedule. She hadn’t known anything about Emma going to Florida this weekend. As far as she knew, her boss was scheduled to go to the annual sales meeting in the Poconos.

“Lucas, can I have her call you back? I can’t disturb her right now. In fact, I was just leaving.”

Lying to him wasn’t what she wanted to do, but she didn’t want to get fired for crossing the line of professionalism.

In truth, she’d been waiting for Emma to discuss the new job listing of director of special events that had just been posted. They’d talked about it months ago, when they’d gotten word that the position was being created, but Emma had been tight-lipped lately. Doreen hadn’t minded being her assistant when Emma was the director of promotions, but she’d just been promoted to vice president, and her new position would take her to the corporate office where an administrative assistant would be provided, so Doreen would have to make the adjustment to a new boss or become a boss herself.

If she hadn’t already been doing the job, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so strongly about applying, but she knew everything it entailed and she was up for the challenge.

No, now was not the time to go where this conversation with Lucas was heading. Lately his discontent was becoming more apparent, and Doreen didn’t want to be in the middle of his crumbling relationship with Emma. Neither seemed to be aware of the direction it was heading in, and Doreen didn’t want to play marriage counselor. She was single for a reason.

“It’s nearly seven-thirty, and you’re still there, Dorie.” Calling her by the nickname he’d coined ratcheted up her guilt like a crane with a bar of girded steel. Doreen felt caught in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel, except she didn’t know what the fight was about.

“Lucas, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening here.”

“I’ve left messages and she hasn’t returned my calls. We make plans for the house and she doesn’t follow through. Since I can’t get her on the phone—” He paused and Doreen waited a beat too long.

“This may be the last message you have to deliver. Tell Emma if she doesn’t come to Florida tomorrow, I’ll consider us over.” Then he hung up.

Chapter 2

Lucas could have kicked himself before he fully pushed the disconnect button.

“Doreen? Doreen?” Why had he involved Doreen in his and Emma’s relationship problems? It wasn’t her fault that he was a failure at having—or not having—a fiancée.

Before he made another mistake, he tried to think things through. In the past he’d been quick to think the worst of women when they didn’t call, or if they called too much; if they didn’t stay, or if they wanted to stay. If they drank, or if they didn’t drink.

During the past five years, he’d just about driven himself crazy wondering what women wanted from men. And then he started listening to his DJ friend Terrence. As crazy as he had been in the past with his off-the-wall ideas about relationships, the brother now made sense, and Lucas tuned in to his radio show whenever he had the chance.

According to Terrence, women wanted good men who treated them like they were worth something. But a man had to be selective, too. He had to choose carefully, because there were some crazy ladies out there.

Lucas thought about how he’d found Emma in New York. His company had won the contract to renovate three floors of the office building she worked in. He’d seen her for a couple weeks going to her boss’s office for a meeting, and then one day he approached her. They’d dated happily for months, and then he accepted another renovation project in Key West, his mother’s hometown.

Emma had assured him dating long distance wouldn’t be a problem, as long as they were committed. She’d been all for it for the first two years, but in these last eight months, their relationship had all but evaporated like some of the local lakes.

He’d ignored the signs, and his fading love for her, hoping she’d come around and still want to move to Key West like she’d promised, so they could be together and rekindle their true feelings for each other. This weekend was the test. If she came, he’d told himself, they’d live happily ever after.

If she didn’t show up, they’d go their separate ways.

The next day, Lucas hammered nails into the roof.

Terrence was right. When a woman didn’t call you back, somebody else was probably occupying her mind and her time.

Lucas descended from the roof to check on his foreman, Mo, who was installing granite flooring in the foyer and lower bathroom. He stayed outside on the porch, his hands on the white siding as he leaned into the house. Only Mo and Rog were allowed to enter through the front door while the granite was being installed. The materials were too expensive and delicate.

Mo looked up and followed a carefully laid path of crisscrossed boards that never touched the foyer floor.

Lucas grasped his foreman’s hand and pulled him out of the house. “How’s it coming?”

They leaned in like spies. “Good,” Mo replied. “This needs to dry for four more hours, and then we’ll come back and redo any areas that show unevenness. Everything is cut to perfection, even the corners. Looks easy, doesn’t it?”

Mo was a big Mexican man who’d been born in America. He knew how to build a house better than anyone Lucas had ever met. More than that, he knew great craftsmanship.

Lucas nodded. “It does, but will it be ready in time?”

As they talked, Rog never stopped working. The Italian craftsman had been in the country for six months, working with an outfit that had suddenly gone out of business, stranding him. He’d been doing day labor when Mo had snapped him up. His work was flawless.

Lucas tipped back his baseball cap and scratched his head. “Tomorrow is the magic hour. Will this be ready?”

Mo consulted Rog. They discussed everything in Italian, one of the three languages Mo spoke. Lucas knew only about two hundred words of Spanish, so he was lost.

He looked toward heaven. He needed for everything to be perfect. His relationship with Emma had been far from it. In fact, lately they’d had no relationship at all, and he was concerned that after all this effort for her to like everything in the house, he’d be the one to call their wedding off.

Mo told him what he wanted to hear. “We’ll be ready, if I pick up his wife and two daughters from the airport.” He looked like he’d bitten into a bad apple.

Lucas extended his hand to Rog, laughing at Mo. “Excellent.”

Rog shook his hand and then kissed Lucas on both cheeks. Mo hurried down the stairs before he was the recipient of Rog’s affection.

“Ciao.” Rog rushed back to work as Lucas wiped his face off with his sleeve, Mo laughing from the sidewalk.

“He drives me crazy when he does that,” Mo told him. “I try to stay away from him. He cries a lot, too.”

“And you don’t? Every time Armella and the kids leave, you’re a waterspout.”

“Hey! Don’t say that too loud. The men won’t respect me,” Mo said, looking around to see if anyone had heard Lucas.

They checked on the progress of the workers whose job it was to clean up the property after Hurricane Ana. It had come through as a Category One a couple days ago and rumbled out to sea, but in a freak turn of events, it seemed to reverse direction and was once again taking aim on south Florida. The I-10 had been reopened this morning and traffic had resumed, but the storm would be back wreaking havoc once again in a couple days.

In fact, dark clouds already clung to the horizon.

As if he read his mind, Mo said, “This storm smells like trouble.”

“Don’t be a pessimist.” Lucas waited a few seconds. “Emma’s coming tomorrow.”

“Is that why you look like you got caught with your hand in the candy jar? The airport opened up?”

“I did something, but not that bad, and yes, the airport is open. All those people need to be recycled.” Lucas tried to laugh. He felt anxious knowing Emma was coming, yet she still hadn’t called. Doreen hadn’t called back, either. He guessed she’d given up and gone home. He would have, and let him and Emma deal with their own problems.

The workers tossed onto the ground plywood that had been used during the last storms. Much of it had disintegrated from too much water.

“Lucas, how honest can I be with you?” Mo said, his Spanish accent sounding musical. He was about to share some wisdom.

Lucas eyed his friend. “You want to get paid today?”

“Okay,” Mo said, “straight up. You haven’t seen her in a long time. Eight months. The house isn’t finished and you’re not a raving lunatic. You would think you’d want everything to be perfect. Do you care?”

Caught off guard, Lucas considered his question. “Yeah. You saw me pressing Rog.”

“Our talk was a little more extensive. I promised him a few things for the family. It’ll cost you about a hundred dollars. You have to pick them up while I run to the airport. I’ll make a list.”

Lucas snorted good-naturedly. “The bastard.”

Both men chuckled.

“All I’m saying is when you first got here from New York, I had to institute a ‘no cell phone’ rule on the job.”

Lucas smiled.

“You stepped off the roof eave backwards, fell half a story and separated your shoulder. You fell through the floor at the Wilcox mall refurbishment, requiring an ambulance and fifteen stitches. I don’t know how a nail was shot through your index finger, but that was a lot of paperwork and a hospital visit.”

“That shouldn’t count,” Lucas argued halfheartedly. “That extern from the technical school shot me from across the room.”

“But if you hadn’t been on the phone with Emma you’d have seen him playing with the nail gun. Since you and Emma have cooled it,” Mo went on, “we’ve had no accidents.”

Lucas couldn’t argue with the truth. “You’re very observant,” he finally said.

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Mo wiped his hair back and put his cap back in place, shielding the skin around his eyes that looked like it was made from cracked glass.

They walked to the back of the property, finding nails in the grass and pitching them into buckets along the walkway.

Mo’s daughter had stepped on a nail last year on Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Since then, the men cleaned up after themselves.

Lucas and Mo leaned against the back fence, admiring the gray house with the pink accent shutters.

“I gave Emma an ultimatum: be on the plane tomorrow or it’s over.”

Mo looked as if he’d tasted something sour. “You’re not too bright today, huh?”

“First you say I don’t care, and now I’m not smart?”

They gathered up the old shutters the workers had taken down and loaded them into the back of the pickup.

“Lucas, you can’t issue an ultimatum to a woman and expect her to give you food and sex.”

“I didn’t give it to her. I told Doreen.”

“Her assistant? You just officially crossed over into wimp territory.”

“Emma hasn’t returned my calls.”

“Dude, do I have to explain what that means in women’s language?”

“No.”

Mo just shook his head as Lucas picked up the street sign he’d knocked down and dragged it inside the gate to deal with later.

Once they were done for the day, Lucas went inside and dialed Emma’s number. All he got was a message that her voice mail was full.

Everything that had and hadn’t transpired between them over the last eight months came flooding back. The promises that she’d come down to Key West, his disappointment when she hadn’t. His messages asking her to call him, her failure to phone back. The cancelled trips, Emma’s emotional distance and his nonchalance about it, their missed phone calls, their tendency to mainly communicate via voice mail.

Before he could hang up he was transferred to Doreen’s voice mail. “This is Doreen Gamble. I’m away from my desk, but if it’s important you can page me at 5546, or leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you right away.”

He had no doubt that she’d call him back.

Her voice was as warm and welcoming as her smile and he’d taken advantage of her. Lucas’s first inclination was to page her, but he didn’t. He needed to settle things with Emma. The beep sounded in his ear, and he took a breath to speak, though he didn’t know what to say.

“You deserve better than this,” he said, and hung up before “I’m sorry” could come out.

He’d have to do it when he was thinking clearly. Maybe tomorrow. Just not today.

Doreen waited patiently for Emma to finish her conversation with the president of Regents Cable. For having been promoted only a month ago, she was confident and personable with the head honcho.

“Yes, Jeffrey, I’ll be glad to attend the network meeting with you next month. I’m honored you chose me.” She nodded her head as if he could see her and smiled brightly, giving Doreen the thumbs-up, her new symbolic gesture of success. Doreen just hoped she didn’t do that at the Black Greek convention. They’d skewer her.

Emma had made it. She’d moved on up, as the old saying went.

Shaquemma Rowena Johnson had been born and bred in Brooklyn, had attended State University of New York at Buffalo, and had graduated with a degree in communications. She’d worked her way up through the ranks of three networks and two cable companies.

In seventeen years since college graduation she’d shed her heavy accent, thick eyebrows and overbearing attitude, and had polished, injected and dieted away all other unseemly features.

She’d studied women of power, and now she was the one wearing the expensive suit, carrying the top-of-the-line Louis Vuitton briefcase, having power lunches. She was now legally Emma Jones, a woman to be reckoned with.

Emma hung up her phone, caressing the black receiver with her fingertip.

Without looking up at Doreen she said, “I need you to go to Key West and end my engagement to Lucas.”

Doreen blinked at her. “What?”

“Break up with Lucas and I’ll give you five extra days of vacation.”

“He’s expecting you to be there tomorrow.” All the respect Doreen had for Emma was sucked up by Greta’s vacuum cleaner as she moved by the executive’s outer door.

Emma glanced at her iPhone and pouted for a fraction of a second. “I’m not going to Florida. You already knew that. I’m heading to the Poconos. Do this for me, and you can write your own ticket. Do you understand what that means, Doreen? This is how business is done.” She folded her hands and finally looked up. “Within reason, what would you like that I can do for you?”

It was August, and suddenly Doreen felt like she was being treated to an early Christmas she didn’t deserve. Though her heart raced at the idea of meeting Lucas face-to-face, she couldn’t under these circumstances. “Lucas loves you, Emma.”

Her lips popped out again. “No, he doesn’t. He loves what he thinks we have, but it’s not true. Lucas wants that more than anything. I’m too selfish for him. The last eight months have taught me a lot about myself. Besides, Lucas changed the rules. When I met him he was living up here and was a successful architect and builder, but after his job he moved back, and I understood. His business was growing by leaps and bounds there, but New York still has a lot to offer. His heart is in Florida with his mother and his friends, but mine isn’t.

“Over time I thought I’d change my mind, but I haven’t. It’s too bad because he’s a good man. But at my level, I can get one of any race, any age.” She shrugged as if that was all there was to getting a man.

“Ten days vacation,” Emma then offered, the heartfelt, melancholy woman of seconds ago gone. “Do you feel better?”

Doreen hated to admit that she did. “Marginally.”

Doreen decided not to make this easy. Emma would be gone soon, and extra vacation days under a new manager could easily be reversed. No, she wanted more.

“Emma, months ago you said you’d recommend me for the new position of director of special events. I’d like to move forward with that now.”

“Mmm.” Emma twisted her hands and her lips. “I’m not so sure you’d get it going from being my assistant. Dream a little smaller.”

Doreen’s skin began to crawl. How dare she all but promise her the job, and now try to weasel out of it? And who’d told Shaquemma Rowena Johnson to dream small?

Doreen got up and headed for the door. “Good night, Emma.”

At Emma’s slow clap, Doreen turned. Their office was across from the Broadway theatres, but the theatrics in the office were overplayed. “I’m glad to see you have tenacity. That’s what the job needs. I’ll be glad to recommend you. Meet Lucas in the baggage claim area by the carousel.”

Doreen didn’t turn around and kept her hand on the door.

“I’ll wait five minutes for your glowing written recommendation, and then I’ll go to Key West and take care of this for you.” Doreen finally turned around.

The fact that Emma was impressed showed in her quirked lip. “You’ve been doing your homework. Very good.”

Doreen’s heart broke for Lucas. “I had a good teacher. I’ll need your credit card to make the reservations.”

“It’s already on your desk.”

Chapter 3

Doreen held her stomach as it pitched during the bumpy landing. The bagel and cream cheese she’d eaten before takeoff now felt like a Michelin tire in her stomach.

Nerves were getting the best of her. She didn’t like being the bearer of bad news or flying in rainstorms.

But a much larger problem loomed as voluminous as the clouds that suffocated the Florida sky. She hadn’t broken up with a man since college, almost ten years ago. She’d been really cocky last night with Emma, but in the soggy light of day, she’d stared into her mirror and saw her unlined, amber-colored eyes, and the chicken in them was real.

How was she going to tell Lucas, a man she secretly crushed on, that his relationship with Emma was over? Oh, and it was nice building this house with you long distance. Goodbye.

This morning when she’d gotten up, she’d still been angry at Emma, and even now the anger simmered within her. She wanted to cry, but all she could do was squeeze out a throat-burning burp. Doreen pushed her fingers into a steeple formation around her forehead while she stared at the floor.

What were the appropriate words to end another’s engagement?

I’m sorry, but Emma doesn’t love you anymore.

Emma sent me to break up with you.

Emma’s an idiot.

Oh, and by the way, I have a crush on you.

All of it was just wrong.

The plane bounced as it landed and taxied to the gate, and her stomach gurgled loud enough for the lady across the aisle to glance at her sympathetically. She watched the rain slant against the window, then unbuckled her seat belt and stood with the rest of the passengers.

She retrieved her computer from the overhead compartment and silently waved goodbye to her luxurious accommodations in first class. If Emma wasn’t going to clean up her own mess, she was at least going to pay for a first-class garbage cleaner.

Lucas watched Doreen in the two-piece black suit circle the baggage carousel, knowing she wasn’t his fiancée, but had been dispatched by her. New York women wore black as if it were prescribed by a physician exclusively for them.

She was tall with a face like Vanessa Williams, except her color was a few shades deeper, reminding him of honey. She had an amazing body, curvy in places women were meant to be; soft and slim in all the right places, too. Her hair reminded him of summers in the Keys, with the way it hung down and breezed airily over her shoulder as she searched the airport. She looked down and saw the unmoving baggage carousel; her hand slid up to her neck and she stepped back, resting her weight on her left foot, hand on her hip.

He was disappointed because his engagement was over, but he couldn’t help but feel he’d been granted a reprieve. One thing he did not understand: why didn’t the loss seem greater?

Still he watched Doreen. Her collar was open, and she caressed her neck as she perused the baggage claim area and consulted her watch. Men noticed her, but she was oblivious to them, her actions indicating her schedule was tight. She kept reading a card she took out and reinserted into her pocket repeatedly. Was she practicing what she was going to say to him on behalf of Emma? Apparently this wasn’t a game to her.

Finally the last of his heart broke with a clap of thunder.

Doreen’s back bowed and he stepped out of the shadows.

He was no longer engaged, and he needed to let his ex-fiancée’s assistant know that he knew.

Lucas put his hands in his jeans pockets as he walked up behind Doreen, who was digging for her phone. “You don’t have to call me. I’m here.”

Doreen turned around, her mouth kissable and open. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “She’s not coming, Lucas. I’m—I’m here to break up with you for her. I’m so sorry.”

The baggage carousel surged behind her and she turned to watch. Lucas wasn’t one for mystical or symbolic signs, but his mother would have said that meant to move on. Why wasn’t he surprised?

He shook his head. This was so Emma. They were so wrong in what they’d done to themselves and, more important, to Doreen. Who exactly did they think they were? Hollywood celebrities?

He touched Doreen’s arm and she looked at his hand, then his eyes.

“We haven’t officially met, but I feel like I know you already. Lucas McCoy. Terrible way to meet, but it is what it is.”

“You do know me, Lucas,” she said, touching his hand. “I’m so sorry.” She then did an unexpected thing: she hugged him.

Instinct made him hug her back, but the man in him enjoyed the feel of a woman who genuinely wanted to comfort him. He caught his breath and let his mind race back over the last months to all the signs he should have paid attention to. All the questions he should have asked. The additional trips to New York he should have taken. He needed to officially end things with Emma.

Doreen stepped back.

“There,” she said, looking embarrassed. “At least I feel a bit better. I’m still sorry, though.”

“Don’t apologize unless this was your idea.”

Her smile was quick. “It definitely wasn’t.”

“Emma and I should have had a conversation on the phone and saved a whole lot of money.”

“Sometimes those conversations are the hardest ones to have, Lucas. I guess that’s why she couldn’t come. I’m not making excuses for her. I’m suggesting that she just couldn’t say the words.”

Doreen shrugged and turned to look at the luggage. Her hair was gorgeous as it swung well past her shoulders, cut into a shagged V, ending between her shoulder blades. The cut didn’t make sense to him, but it looked good.

“You expecting a bag?” he asked.

“I am.”

“So you’re the bearer of bad news? This in your job description?”

Pain seemed to shoot up her right cheek and end in her forehead. All of the muscles moved and she stopped them with her fingers, and he was sorry he asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“What color is your suitcase?”

“Red.”

“Not black? That’s good. Easier to spot.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t usually so sarcastic. He searched for another line of conversation, but he decided that silence in the midst of the airport noise was better.

Her bag popped up, and like a New York woman Doreen reached past businessmen and wrestled her bag off the conveyer. Men stepped to the side, some acting scared, others laughing. She ignored them and him.

“Doreen, let me get it.” Lucas eased it from her hands. “How long are you intending to stay?”

“I have a flight out tonight, but I thought perhaps we’d have time for a bite and I could see the house.”

“First thing’s first. Leaving tonight isn’t going to happen. While you were flying down, all of the flights going out for today were canceled. You see that long line over there?” Lucas pointed to the row of people snaking up and down like the security check-in line.

“Yes.” She looked crestfallen, her mouth hanging open.

“That’s for flight reservations to get out of here.”

“That’s terrible.” She looked even more uncomfortable. Her black bag slipped down her shoulder and landed in her fingers. She looked like she was thinking of her next move. “I need to get back.”

“Not happening tonight. Let me borrow your phone.”

Lucas dialed Emma’s number and she picked up immediately. “How’d he take it?”

His heart didn’t skip a beat as it had earlier when reality had set in. It hadn’t yesterday or last month. His body didn’t go through any of the physical transformations it used to at the sound of her voice. None of the reactions happened that used to happen, and he knew they were over. He hadn’t heard her voice in two weeks, and for a second he wished their end could have been different, but they’d been over for a while and nothing would change that.

“I’m taking our breakup just fine, Emma. It would have been better if you’d just come out and told me, though.”

Doreen walked off and he appreciated her discretion.

“I’m sorry, Lucas.”

“Yeah, me, too. Why couldn’t you just tell me it wasn’t working for you?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to get into an argument. I could ask you the same thing.” There was no accusation in her voice, just a bit of melancholy.

“I’d hoped we could have fixed whatever was broken this weekend.”

“I’m not a piece of wood that can be crafted. We would have had a chance if you’d stayed up here, but you chose to go to Key West.”

“You’re right. But work took me up there to New York and brought me back here. Had you not agreed to come here, I wouldn’t have started with you,” he said gently. “This is the last thing I wanted.” His family was so small. Just him and his mother. While she was alive, he wanted to be near her.

“I know, sweetheart.”

She relented her tough New York stance, the ball-breaking woman she’d sometimes become when she had to have her way. He’d loved to watch her move between both worlds, though she’d done it rarely the last few times he’d seen her. Lucas blamed himself. He should have known then she was making a permanent change. He doubted he’d ever see this side of Emma again—if he ever saw her again.

“I know your business is important, and your mom,” she said. “You know I don’t need my family, and I didn’t mind the idea of moving away from them, but it’s New York I’d miss.”

“You’re a hustler, baby. You love your job, the pace of the city, and the wheeling and dealing. Key West is too sedate for you.”

“NYC is in me, Lucas.” Emma laughed softly and he joined her. “Just like I know it’s not in you.”

“Come on, now. I liked New York well enough,” he said. “But there comes a time when you have to follow your priorities. Money isn’t everything. Family, love, all mean something to me.”

“We hadn’t had love for a while. I never had the guts to ask you to come back here when it wasn’t in your heart, Lucas. I just hoped you’d want to and you never did. If you’re honest, you’ll find out you stopped loving me a while ago, but honor made kept you pursuing our relationship. Now I’m going to let you go.”

“Wait.” He sighed her name softly. People were coming in from the rain, but he focused on none. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

“Me too. I’ll never forget you.” Her voice cracked. “You’re a really good man.”

He turned, looking at Doreen and her brown highlighted hair. Crouched over her bag, she pulled out a coat and was unzipping compartments in search of something else. Every minute or two she’d scoot up to keep up in line. Why was she in the car-rental line anyway?

He pulled himself back to his phone conversation. “Listen, Emma. No more flights are going out tonight, so Doreen will be here overnight. Maybe a couple nights, depending on the hurricane.” He rubbed his eyes, ready to hang up and drink a beer to forget this day.

“No problem. Tell her to call when she’s on her way home.”

“Okay. Well, I guess this is where we part.” Lucas dropped his head to end the call privately.

“Goodbye, Lucas.” The words still hurt just a little.

“Bye, Emma.”

As Lucas ended the call, thunder clapped so loud people in the crowd ducked, including Doreen.

“We’d better get going,” he said, handing her the phone. “It’s over. Thanks, Doreen.”

“I’m sorry.” She looked around. Everywhere but at him. “You can leave me,” she said. “I need to make a hotel reservation.”

“You can stay at the house. There’s more than enough room.”

He’d seen her happy and now she’d lost her glow. Now that her job was done, she seemed lost. “I don’t want to impose, Lucas.”

Lucas grabbed her bag, her words raising his ire. He turned around and Doreen bumped right into him. “Ow, sorry,” she said, so close he could smell the mint from her gum.

He steadied her but didn’t let her go. “You’re not imposing, it’s not a bother, and I don’t want to hear any more about it. You were in the wrong line anyway. All of those people,” he said, as he gestured to another line of people that had wrapped around a bank of phones, “are waiting to make hotel arrangements. You’re in the car-rental line.”

Her gaze ricocheted from the line, the signage and back to his. Thunder boomed again and she shook. He moved closer to let a skycap by with a cart full of unclaimed luggage.

Her breasts grazed his chest and her hands slid up his arms. “That’s so loud.”

Lucas didn’t move. God wasn’t being cruel. Life had just dealt him a fair hand. He hadn’t felt breasts in eight months. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little thunder.” Lucas almost didn’t believe her. But this was Doreen. The woman who’d walked in a marathon for breast cancer because a friend of a friend had suffered with the disease and she’d wanted to help.

He waited for the familiar sizzle of lightning and she shivered and nearly covered her ears in response to more thunder. “Sounds like the building is being demolished.”

She looked up as if she half expected something to fall from the sky. Each time thunder rumbled, she sucked in her lips and shook just a little. She wasn’t going to like it down here. Lucas grabbed the bag again, watching her.

“Born and raised a city girl, right?” He carefully stepped away from Doreen and guided her to the short-term hourly parking lot and his truck. He placed the luggage in the bed, secured the covering and held her door while she got in.

“Small town in New York State called Oswego. I told you before, I used to go to my grandmother’s house every summer in North Carolina. But I never got used to the storms. Now I go to a friend’s house so I’m not by myself.” She looked at the grayish sky with concern.

It struck him that there wasn’t any pretentiousness about Doreen. She was honest about her fear and he didn’t feel right teasing her like he would have Emma. He’d have to be gentler with Doreen.

He got in and coasted to the automated exit, paid the fee and accessed the highway before taking an early exit and driving through the residential streets.

The first thing he noticed was that Doreen didn’t have an open magazine on her lap like Emma would have. Doreen was looking at the houses, muttering that she liked this or that. She rolled her window down even though a light mist fell from the sky.

“That is so sweet,” she declared, pointing as they drove by a small, weather-worn white house. “How much do you think it’s going for?”

He’d checked into the house for investment purposes just a week ago. “Just short of a million dollars. Nine twenty-nine, to be exact.”

“No! Slow down. I need to see that again. What’s inside?”

“Two tiny bedrooms and one bathroom still decorated in the seventies green and yellow. Been in the same family for four decades.”

He drove on and had to wipe the dopey grin off his face before she saw it.

“They’re crazy. They might get three hundred thousand, but not a penny more.”

He couldn’t tell her they’d already received three full-price offers.

“What took you to New York City?” he asked.

“An internship with Regents Cable. I worked for a few different companies and then Regents called. They had an excellent educational program that paid for me to get a degree, so I went back to school. Things are finally falling into place and I’m being promoted to director of special events.”

“Is work all you do? Isn’t there someone special in your life?”

She looked kind of wary. They’d never ventured into this territory before. Before, they’d been protected by the rules of his engagement to Emma. Now their status was different.

“There isn’t anyone, but I’m happy.”

Her gaze was intelligent and assessing. He felt like he was on one of the court shows his mother was fond of watching when she was home. Right now, she was in Cairo, sightseeing and having the time of her life, no doubt.

“If I’m getting too personal, just let me know.”

Doreen crossed her left leg over her right. “I’m letting you know.”

Lucas took a mental step back. “All right, city girl. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.”

The unapologetic stop sign had been thrust into his face, halting his forward trajectory down the road of her personal life.

There was time, he knew, but everything was happening at breakneck speed, and for some reason he felt the need to know so much about her. But he didn’t rush. He was sorry he pressed Doreen.

The silence stretched as he drove the back roads, cutting through the residential neighborhoods he loved to scout.

“That blue house looks familiar. I know that sounds ridiculous because I’ve never been here before, but the white spindles on the front porch, the picket fence leading to the curb…Is that the first house you renovated?”

How long ago had he described that house to her? Seven, no, eight months ago? How many conversations had they had since then? He looked at the house and pushed back his baseball cap.

“That’s the one. You have an incredible memory.”

“Are the owners still there or was it resold?”

“No, they’re still there. He’s a former mayor and she was a state senator of Ohio. My guys built them a garage last month.”

“Too small a job for you?”

“No, I was finishing my house.”

“Right. Sorry.” The tension in Doreen’s face was etched around her mouth and forehead. “What’s that clicking sound?”

Lucas pulled over and shut off the engine. “Just wait a couple seconds and look in that direction.”

“It sounds like a herd of horses.”

“When have you ever heard a herd of horses?” he teased.

“On TV.”

“Just watch. Listen.” He touched her shoulder, his fingers grazing her soft dark hair. A man could easily learn to love holding the strands all night long.

Just as the thought shocked him, the rain had the same effect on her. It stormed up the block like the infamous running of the bulls, overpowering the truck, thumping the roof, causing her to flinch. Her shoulder bumped his and he chuckled.

Doreen punched him in the thigh.

“What did I do?” he protested.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“You should see your face. You look like a kid. Like you’ve never seen rain before.”

“I’ve seen it, but I’ve never heard it like this before.” They sat there for a few minutes as she watched it rain all around them. “I feel vulnerable out here. I left New York and it was a beautiful day, and now I’m trapped here and I can’t leave. I feel as if I’m not safe.”

For a second she’d scratched his leg with her nails, but now she held her hands in her lap.

This wasn’t a case of hysterics. Her fear was contained but just beneath the surface.

The clouds were ominous and the tide high. The storm promised to be strong and it could turn deadly at any time. Hurricane Ana had already proved herself to be formidable and had drifted back out to sea. No one wished for her return, but the Weather Service predicted she’d make landfall again in a couple days.

Lucas looked at Doreen, whose eyes reminded him of the time he’d been in Africa and had seen liquid gold flecked with tidbits of coal. He’d seen nothing more beautiful.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he told her. He knew his reassurance might not hold much weight, but she was here because of him. He had to help her get through this.

Doreen didn’t believe him. She folded her arms across her chest, her neck tilted and her eyebrow quirked up on the end. Words were unnecessary.

“Let’s just get to the house, Lucas, and tomorrow your babysitting job will be over.”

This was the first crack in her facade. “Hey.” He unbuckled his seat belt and slid across the seat. “Come on now. I promise not to let anything bad happen to you. All right?” Some of the tension eased from her body and she looked at him and then away. “Are we friends again?”

“Maybe,” she said, and he got the impression she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by calling him a liar to his face.

“Can I hug you? A tiny hug? I’m not trying to feel you up for free or anything.”

She laughed a little, her hands gripping the seat. He wanted her to trust him.

“Please?” he asked.

“Okay,” she said, and to his surprise she reached over and hugged him.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. “I’m never going to want to stop holding you.”

“Lucas!” She was playing again.

Even with her protest, he still didn’t let her go for another few seconds, then reluctantly, he slid over and started the truck. This was the Doreen he knew. Always getting on him for something. “All right, we’re going. But you’ve got to promise we’ll do that again.”

She laughed, sounding more like herself. “I really do think you have a mental illness.”

“Why? Because I complimented your hugging ability? You don’t hug like a cute girl, with your butt stuck out and a pat on the back. Somebody knows they’ve been touched when they hug you. That’s really good.”

“Thanks,” she said, a sincere smile blooming on her face.

Thunder rumbled. “I better get to the hardware store before you have to swim back to New York. You look like you’re tired of Florida and you’ve only been here thirty minutes.”

“Swim? I don’t know how to swim. I began learning, but never finished. I need a refresher course.”

Her expression was so cute he could tell she was serious, although she was smiling.

“A refresher course.” He nodded. “Not sure they offer those, but you could just get in the water and start stroking.”

“I could try that.”

Thunder boomed and she jumped off the seat, her hands shooting up. “My goodness. I have to stop that.”

“You sure do.” He laughed. “You’re about to scare me to death and I’ll kill somebody.” Lucas looked at her, then at the road. Then at her again. “You’re too old to be screaming.”

“Lucas McCoy, how are you telling me I’m too old for something? I didn’t say that to you last month when you told me you chased down that ice cream truck, did I?”

“There’s my friend Doreen.”

She rolled her eyes and acted like she wasn’t going to smile at him. “Did you order some thunder to get the real me to come out?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“You’re full of it. You didn’t know I was coming.”

“There’s that New York woman I’ve been missing. Florida women are so Southern and sweet. New York women are mean and hard.” He pumped his fist at her and she playfully hit his hand. “See what I mean? You’re mean as hell.”

“I don’t want to be mean to you. I don’t know how to be.” The words settled between them. “We need to talk, Lucas.”

He drove awhile. “And we will. Let’s give it a minute to settle in. Do you like hip hop or jazz?”

“Both.” Her nails were polished this pretty pink color, and he liked that. This was the land of white-tipped nails and shih tzu dogs and year-round tans. Doreen, however, was an original.

He pressed the button on the radio. “This station plays a little of both at different times of the day. The DJ—Holy Terror—is one of my best friends. His real name is Terrence Jeffries. Used to play for the Dolphins. He’s hard on women, but he means well, and he’s funny.”

“We’ve got some real characters in New York, too. But you already know that.”

Lucas turned down the volume. “You’re right. Let’s go ahead and clear the air. I don’t want what happened between Emma and me to affect what happens while you’re here.”

She looked uneasy. “I don’t want to know about your relationship. I worked for her, and that essentially ended today. It’s a formality once I get back, but she’ll have already moved into her new office with her new assistant, Carl.”

“All the better,” he said.

Assessing and direct, she stared him down. “What does that mean?”

“It means that whatever happens this weekend, you won’t feel obligated to report to Emma. She won’t pressure you into telling her what went on, and you won’t feel as if you have to navigate between two worlds. You’re not obligated to play the straight man for both of us. I’m sorry I even put you in that situation.”

“Oh.” A sweep of her hand sent her hair behind her ear. Silver hoop earrings slid into view.

“Now that’s it’s over between Emma and me, you can tell me if she said anything bad about me.”

She exhaled through her nose and intentionally blinked at him. “Lucas.” The way she said his name made him laugh. A thin line between patience and trouble. And she was short on patience.

He started laughing. “I’m just kidding. All you said was ‘Oh.’ I was expecting something else. Like ‘Thank God,’ or ‘I’m so glad I don’t have to listen to you two anymore.’ But ‘Oh’? It’s kind of a letdown, to be honest.”

Exasperation and relief seemed to make her shake her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be going somewhere?”

“Now you want to get bossy and evil.”

“Just drive before you get into more trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is it really over?” Doreen asked.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we don’t love each other anymore,” he explained as he turned to look at her. Over her shoulder he noticed the drains were full and made a mental note to call Stephen and report the blockage. Stephen Morales was not only one of his best friends, but also the deputy sheriff. He didn’t chance driving. Not now while his life was swirling with the water, spinning in a new direction.

“Then why did you want Emma to come down here so badly?” Doreen asked him.

“To work out our problems. I don’t believe in giving anything up easily. I have no siblings and only a mother left. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, but I believe in trying to work out things that I start. If she had come down here, I would have asked her to stay.”

“I have a huge adopted family—”

“You’re lucky,” he broke in, wistful. “I’m sorry. That’s something I’ve always wanted. My mom’s away right now, but she’s the reason I live in Key West. While she’s alive, I want to be with her. Emma isn’t attached to her family. She doesn’t have a relationship with them at all. That was important to me.”

“Did she know that?” Doreen held up her hand. “Of course she did. If you’re telling me, you told her.”

“You know I did, but that’s all right. I feel a sense of relief.”

“No sadness, Lucas? I know I would feel a sense of loss or something.”

Lucas started the car and pulled away from the curb. There was a sense of loss. He’d built a house for a woman he’d thought he’d share a life with. “I’d be an unfeeling bastard if I didn’t feel anything. But it’s not as if I didn’t see the writing on the wall.” He drove in silence for a while.

“You seem so settled about everything yesterday. I thought you were going to take my head off.”

“Doreen, I was wrong for that. Really wrong. It wasn’t your responsibility to field our personal calls and referee our discussions. That shouldn’t have ever happened. That won’t ever happen again.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the woman I get with will never get tired of talking to me.”

Doreen’s fingers plowed through her hair and she tilted her head. He knew that move. She didn’t believe him. “And you know this how?” she asked.

“Because I won’t get tired of talking to her. I’ve got to change, too. I realize that now. Our relationship is over and the love is gone, but maybe that wouldn’t have happened if I’d given her some alternatives. I’ll know for the next time. And there definitely will be a next time.”

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