"Strip," he ordered. Without a word, she rose and did just that. Anticipating her, he took pins from a beauty case sitting on the emerald green counter and handed them to her so she could scoop back her long, thick hair to avoid it getting wet.
Taking her hand, he helped her to climb in.
"Aren't you going to join me?" Sinking in, she closed her eyes with a sigh as the hot water swirled around her.
"This is for you." He disappeared from view only to return a few minutes later with a bottle of Cabernet and two glasses. Popping the cork, he poured the wine and handed her a glass. Instead of drinking his, he placed it on the shelf near the tub that had been designed for that purpose and reached for the sponge.
"This is nice."
He grunted. Dipping the sponge into the water, he started on her back.
"Why the tears?"
The question threw her for a bit and for a minute she did not respond.
"You saw."
"Could not help it." Easing her back, he used the sponge on her graceful throat.
"Why were you crying?"
"Just life. I had lunch with Blair."
"I know." He shrugged at her look of inquiry. "An acquaintance who was having lunch at the restaurant mentioned it in passing."
"He called and I-"
"You don't have to explain having lunch with a friend to me."
She eyed him for a minute as he continued to rub her shoulders. "There was a time when you would have flared up about it."
"Lift your arm. That was before I knew he was gay." His silver-gray eyes met hers. "I was about to destroy his career when I discovered that he wasn't after getting you into bed."
"You hated him."
"Still barely tolerate him. He's a peacock."
"He's sweet and kind."
"And a pain in the ass."
"He's my friend."
"I realize that. Why the tears?" he repeated.
She had been hoping that he had forgotten.
"I'm damaged."
His frown was ominous as he stared at her. Reaching for the special bath gel that was her signature scent, he squeezed a generous amount on the sponge before returning to her back. "We're not doing that again. What the hell do you mean by that statement?"
"You know."
"Why don't you enlighten me?" he suggested tersely.
She leaned back and took another sip of her wine as he started on her breasts. "My mother was a junkie whore. I sat there on that swing wondering if God was telling me that I should nothave children. What if I turn out to be a horrible mother?" She took another sip to quiet the rising agitation in her chest.
"What if I'm like her? She got herself knocked up by one of her johns, and her solution was to leave me at the home. Instead of trying to get clean and make a life for herself and her baby, she went right on doing what she had been doing before. What if I inherited her lack of caring?"
