The Bachelor (Chandler Brothers 1)

“Forgive me, but I’m not understanding,” Eric interrupted her. “How does pretending to be sick relate to your desire to see the boys settled with families of their own?”

She glanced upward. Heaven help her when dealing with obtuse men—it seemed she was surrounded by them. “My sons would never deny me my fondest wish, one that will complete their lives too. Not if they thought …” She wrinkled her nose and cringed, hesitating.

“Your health was at risk?” At her barely perceptible nod, he rose from his seat. “Good God, woman, how could you do that to your children?”

“I did it for my children. Sit down, you’re making a scene.” She jerked on his sleeve and he followed her command.

“It’s wrong.”

Raina ignored the twinge of guilt. Okay, it was more than a twinge, but if her plan worked, no one would get hurt and everyone would benefit. “You can’t tell them.”

“Those boys love you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Your Hippocratic oath.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you need me to quote it for you? Because I can, you know. Verse for verse,” she added for good measure.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Fifth century B.C. ‘I swear by Apollo, the Physician—’”

“You win, Raina, but I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t.” Normally she enjoyed sparring with him, and when she’d committed the passage to memory she’d wanted to impress him with her knowledge, but the victory wasn’t at all sweet. “The boys don’t know what they’re missing in life. What’s so wrong with wanting to show them? You have two beautiful granddaughters of your own, both of whom live in Saratoga Springs, not twenty minutes from here. I’ll bet you can’t imagine life without them. I’m positive you’d be distraught if your daughters weren’t settled yet.”

“I couldn’t tell you, since they’re both married, with children. But I doubt I’d be leading them blind. It’s your methods I disagree with, not your feelings. And there’s something else.”

His thumb began a lazy glide over the top of her hand, and for the first time, Raina realized he was still holding on tight. She swallowed hard. “What’s that?”

“You’ve been alone too long. Studies show that widowed women, women with workaholic husbands, and women without interests of their own are more likely to meddle in their children’s lives.”

There were many things in life Raina hated. Being patronized was one of them. “I have outside interests. I jog every morning outside or on the treadmill in the basement.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re still jogging with a weak heart?”

She shrugged. “When I’m sure I won’t get caught, and it hasn’t been easy, believe me. Those boys have minds like a steel trap, and with three of them, they seem to be everywhere at once. The basement’s my only refuge, but that’s not the point. I also volunteer at the hospital,” she said, seeking to convince him she had outside, healthy interests.

He frowned. “In the children’s ward. It’s a wonderful gift you give those kids, but as far as you’re concerned, it’s an extension of the same obsession. Meddling in your children’s lives isn’t healthy.”

She squared her shoulders, but her heart beat painfully in her chest and a lump rose to her throat. “I’m not obsessed and I don’t meddle. I’m stretching the truth to get my sons to broaden their horizons. That’s all.”

“Let’s say, on that subject, we agree to disagree. But on the subject of you, it’s time I spoke up, and not just as your doctor.”

Raina wasn’t sure why, but her adrenaline picked up in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Distinct butterflies took up residence in the pit of her stomach.

“There are other studies I can quote, but did you know that an emotional and physical connection to another human being is an essential part of life?”

“I’m connected,” she told him. “To my sons, my friends, to you … to everyone in this town.”

“I’m not talking about friendships, Raina.”

She met his gaze and for the first time found herself looking at him. Really looking at him, not just as her friend, but as a man. An attractive, attentive, eligible man.

He’d aged well, the salt-and-pepper hair making him distinguished-looking, not old. His skin was tanned and weathered, in a rugged, handsome way that defied aging and wrinkles. And his body had maintained, if not the firmness of youth, then at least the outward appearance of a virile man.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her, and was surprised to discover she cared. This conversation had personal, sensual undertones she’d never heard before from Eric. She wondered if she was mistaken. It had been a long time since she’d thought of men looking at her with any kind of real interest. Not since John.

But hadn’t she just appraised Eric in—dare she even think it—an intimate way? Flustered, she curled her hands into fists and he released his hold on her at last.