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Someone—Drew, no doubt—had taken care of the old home. The white siding and blue shutters looked freshly painted. The grass was mowed short and the shrubs trimmed neatly, welcoming her.
Her smile faltered. Why would Drew want to leave a place so amazing? Why would he look for somewhere else to live?
Biting her lip, she parked and cut the engine.
It’d taken her twenty-four hours to work up the courage to come. And now that she was here, the trepidation mounted even stronger.
This was insane. The man had probably already forgotten their brief meeting yesterday. He’d probably already forgotten her. She should just go home and forget ever meeting him. Besides, it wasn’t like she could do anything with him even if he did return her interest. If he asked her out, she’d probably just say no. And if she did manage to accept, the date would no doubt totally bomb. Then she’d be forced to tell him—
Mumbling under her breath, Mia turned the car back on and closed her eyes. Fighting the depression swamping her for chickening out, she curled her fingers into fists and jerked her eyes open when paper crinkled in her grip. She looked down at the tattered business card.
She’d slept with the silly thing, clutching it to her heart all night. Dr. Higgins would probably drop her flat if he discovered how obsessive and neurotic she’d become.
Pathetic as it was though, Drew Harper’s business card gave her hope. It reminded her of the way he’d made her pulse race. If she left now, she feared she might never feel that alive again.
Whimpering out a moan of distress, Mia turned off the car and pushed open the door. She studied his assortment of flowers as she slowly made her way to his covered porch, thinking she could stay busy with a yard this spacious. She’d have fun nurturing those irises and tulips. She’d probably have to add some roses, though. A flower garden wasn’t a flower garden without roses, after all.
Realizing she’d just pictured herself living here, adding to his garden, Mia bit her lip again and forced the image from her head.
She stepped onto the veranda, refusing to think how nice it’d be to sit on the swing in the corner on a nice summer evening and watch the sun set.
The main door hung open in friendly reception, and Mia’s nerves settled some as she knocked lightly on the screened partition.
"It’s open," a man’s voice—Drew’s voice—called from deep inside the house. "We’re in the studio. Come on back."
Mia winced. We? The studio?
Oh great, he was working. She hadn’t realized he’d be taking pictures on a Saturday. Not wanting to bother him while he was with a customer, she hesitated. But he’d already invited her in—it’d be rude to flee now—so she blew out a breath and stepped into the parlor.
The wooden floor made her footsteps echo as she crossed the threshold.
She could immediately tell this was his place of business. Huge framed portraits flooded the walls and floor.
Curious about his aptitude, Mia lingered in the front room, studying his work.
The man had talent. Every shot seemed to catch its main subject in exactly the right pose. She grinned at the portrait of a toddler wearing nothing but a diaper, laughing as a Dalmatian licked his face. But when voices drew near, she pulled away from the photograph and hurried around the corner to join them, almost colliding with a woman toting a baby on her hip.
"Oh." she jerked to a stop and pressed her hand to her heart.
"Sorry about that," the woman apologized. "Didn’t see you there."
From behind her, Drew’s surprised voice said, "Mia?"
Mia glanced at him but her gaze was immediately drawn back to the child. Her vision blurred, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe so well. White, hot panic pressed against her lungs; she feared she might pass out.
But, it was a baby. She was less than three feet away from a tiny, little—
The infant gurgled on his slobber and grinned at her, reaching out a chubby hand.
Sucking in air, Mia blinked the boy back into focus. He was around half a year old with full cheeks, a thin layer of white-blond hair and bright blue eyes.
Before she realized what she was doing, she smiled. Her chin trembled; she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep tears from misting her eyes. Ignoring the emotional meltdown transpiring inside her, she held out her own finger and the baby eagerly clamped his fist around it. He giggled, and her smile grew.
Drew chuckled. "I told you he was going to be a flirt, Mrs. Franklin." He winked at Mia and slid his gaze to her finger still tightly gripped in the infant’s fist. "See there. The kid already knows when he has the attention of a pretty lady."
Mia’s face heated. Mrs. Franklin tucked her son close and beamed. "I have a feeling he’s going to take after his father in that regard," she announced with a reluctant grin.
Behind them, a computer on Drew’s desk chimed and a small panel slid open, offering a CD. Turning, Drew murmured, "There we are," as he extracted the CD from its tray and re-closed the door.
