After Hours

They talked casually over dinner. Rhys slipped pieces of meat to her hovering cat and Angie pretended not to notice as they touched on politics, religion, current events—anything but work. The conversation eventually came around to Aunt Iris. “I talked to her yesterday,” he commented, swirling the ice in his soda.

“How is she?”

“She sounds weaker all the time. Her health has been going downhill for the past couple of years.”

Angie covered his restless hand with hers. “You must be quite worried about her,” she said with ready sympathy.

He nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

“Maybe you should go see her,” she suggested carefully.

“I’m going next month. I told her about you.” She looked startled but not displeased, he noted, eyeing her through his lashes. “Did you?”

“Yeah. She’d like to meet you. I told her maybe you’d come with me when I visit.”

She pulled her hand back to her lap, looking searchingly at him. “Why, Rhys?” she asked in little more than a whisper.

“Because it’s—important to me,” he answered hesitantly. “I’d like for you to meet her.”

“I’d love to meet her, if you really want me to.”

There were so many things he wanted to say to her. And, paradoxically, so little he could actually think of to say. The cat meowed plaintively at his feet, and he fed it the last bite of his burger. “I want you to,” he said without looking up from the greedy kitten.

“Tell me more about her,” she urged, pushing her plate away and leaning encouragingly against the table.

He found himself talking more about himself than he had in years. About a rootless, angry teenager who’d had too many disappointments, too little security. Who’d been hugged so rarely that he instinctively mistrusted the woman who’d taken him in with open arms and a welcoming smile. About the time she’d chewed him out so fiercely for trying to take money from her, and about the time she’d spent part of the little extra money she had to buy him an expensive jacket because all the other boys in his class were wearing them. About the hours she’d spent standing over him, making sure he did his homework, and the tears she’d shed when the service had called and he’d struck out on his own to face dangers she dreaded for him. About the years of occasional visits and telephone calls, cards and letters, her reluctance to take his money and his pleasure that she’d finally accepted his need to offer it.

“You love her,” Angie concluded softly when he finally stopped talking with an uncomfortable flush of embarrassment at going on for so long.

“I love her,” he agreed in a mutter, shifting in his chair. “She’s the closest thing to family I ever remember having.”

“I can’t wait to meet her. She must be very special.”

“She is. You’ll like her.” You’re a lot like her, he mused silently. Special. “I’m sure I will.”

“What’s your own family like, Angelique?” Rhys asked with an effort at nonchalance, still unwilling to reveal that he’d had her investigated. He wanted very badly for her to share her secrets with him voluntarily.

“My mother’s dead. My father and I aren’t close,” she answered tersely, her face deliberately emptied of all expression. She reached abruptly for the dishes. “I’ll clear this away. Why don’t you watch television or something and relax awhile?”

“I’ll help you,” he offered, standing.

“No,” she said quickly, her face averted. “I’ll get it. You go play with Flower. I think she’s feeling a bit neglected tonight.?

??

She’d shut him out, he realized grimly, walking slowly into the other room. At the least hint of probing into her past, she’d deliberately shut him out, despite the confidences he’d shared with her about his own. It hurt, he discovered. More than he’d expected.

The black-and-white cat purring contentedly in his lap as he stared at the dark television screen, Rhys comforted himself with the memory of her promise to visit Aunt Iris with him in a few weeks. At least she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to end their relationship, though she was still unwilling to trust him completely. It seemed he was willing to settle for whatever he could get, for now.

9

RHYS TRIED NOT TO DWELL on how closely Angelique sat to him on the couch as they worked side by side in his office the next afternoon. Dammit, he thought, scowling down at the reports spread on the table in front of them, he was going to have to get his responses to her under control if he was going to continue working with her.

He almost winced as he remembered the number of times his concentration had wandered during the staff meeting earlier. At one point he’d actually found himself staring at Angelique’s legs, having completely lost track of the discussion that had skidded to a halt as everyone waited for him to speak. He’d recovered by clearing his throat and muttering something about having a new idea for increasing the efficiency of the shipping department records system. No one had seemed to question his words.

He’d thought it wryly amusing that his staff considered him so dauntingly, mechanically dedicated to his business that his attention would never turn to anything else. He’d actually found himself smiling when he thought of how stunned everyone would have been had they seen their no-nonsense employer and his cool, dignified assistant rolling on the floor of her living room on Saturday afternoon. Could any of their associates begin to imagine the passion Angelique concealed behind her sleek hairstyles and tailored suits? They’d be even less likely to believe the passion she was able to bring out in him.

Noticing that his faint smile was making several of his subordinates visibly nervous, he’d immediately suppressed it and gotten back to business. And yet here he was now, ogling his assistant, business again forgotten as he fantasized about all the possibilities of a leather couch and a large desk. Would there ever come a time when he could be in the same room with her without wanting her this badly?