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“It’s not really a contest I wanted to win,” she heard herself answer.
“I don’t suppose anyone ever does.” Picking up his soda, he saluted her with the paper cup. “To happier subjects.”
That was it? No questions? No probing? Patience studied his face, looking for evidence that the other shoe was about to drop. She saw nothing but sincerity in his smoky eyes.
“To happier subjects,” she repeated. She’d gotten off easy this time.
Or had she? Stuart smiled over the rim of his glass, causing her insides to flip end over end. All of a sudden, Patience didn’t feel she’d gotten off at all. More like she was falling into something very dangerous.
* * *
“Ana seemed a little more with it tonight,” Patience remarked a few hours later. They were walking along Charles Street on their way home from the hospital.
“Yes, she did,” Stuart replied. The change from this afternoon made him hopeful. Interesting, how his aunt’s improvement seemed tied to Patience’s arrival. Much as he hated to admit it, the housekeeper and his aunt had a real rapport. Patience was so, well, patient, with the older woman. Gentle, too. Getting Ana water. Making her comfortable. Everything about Patience’s behavior tonight screamed authenticity. If her kindness was an act, Patience deserved an award.
Then again, he’d seen award-worthy performances before, hadn’t he? He’d purposely brought up Gloria over dinner to gauge Patience’s reaction, thinking the topic of fortune hunters might at least cause her to reveal some kind of body language. Instead, he got sympathy, felt a connection...
“You’re frowning.” Patience remarked.
“Sorry, I was thinking how little Ana ate this evening.”
“She never eats much. You know that.”
Yes, thought Stuart, but he needed something to dodge her question.
They walked a few feet in silence. The night was balmy and clear. Combined with the warm breeze, it created an almost romantic feel to the air around them. Stuart stole a glance in Patience’s direction. She had her arms folded across her chest, and her eyes were focused on the pavement. Even so, he could still sense the undulating of her hips. It was, he realized, unconscious and natural. Otherwise, he suspected she’d attempt to downplay the sensuality the way she did her figure and her looks. Hell, maybe she was trying and failing. She certainly wasn’t having much luck minimizing the other two.
That plastic hair band was failing, too. Strands of hair had broken free, and covered her eyes. One of them needed to brush the bangs away so he could see their sparkle again.
He rubbed the back of his neck instead.
Patience must have mistaken the action for him being warm. “You can definitely tell it’s going to be the first day of summer,” she remarked.
“Longest day of the year. Did you know that after tomorrow, every day gets a few seconds shorter? Before you know it, we’ll be losing two and a half minutes a day. Sorry,” he quickly added. “I did a graph for a high school science fair. The fact kind of stuck with me.”
“In other words, you were blind, asthmatic, unathletic and a science nerd. No wonder you gave up on baseball.”
He felt his cheeks grow warm. “For the record, I’d outgrown the asthma by then.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Hey, we can’t all be homecoming queens.”
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she hugged her body a little tighter. “I didn’t go to many school dances,” she said.
Another piece to what was becoming a very confusing puzzle. One moment she was sexy and sharp-witted; the next, her eyes reminded him of a kitten—soft and innocent. What the heck was her story? He was no closer to knowing if Patience had an agenda than he was this morning. They might say you get more flies with honey, but all he got was more questions.
Along with a dangerously mounting attraction.
* * *
Cool air greeted them upon entering the brownstone. Stuart shut the front door and turned on the hallway light. Nigel, who had been sitting on a table by the front window greeted them with a loud meow before running toward the kitchen.
“For crying out loud,” Patience called after him. “It’s only been a few hours.”
At the other end of the hall, the meows grew louder and more indignant—if such a thing was possible. She rolled her eyes, earning a chuckle from Stuart. He said, “You think he’s bad, you should have met the other Nigels.”
There were more? “You mean he’s not the first.”
“Actually, he’s the third. Nigel the Second lived here while I was in law school.”
“Wow, Ana must really like the name Nigel.” Either that or the woman wasn’t very good at pet names.
