appeared oblivious to her presence. She understood his body needed rest, but she needed all the time with him she could get. With a lump in her throat, she stroked back her husband’s hair. Although it had silvered at the temples over the years, it hadn’t gotten any thinner. She loved running her fingers through it. She’d loved him from the moment she’d met him. Definitely from that first night when they’d gone to dinner and talked.
After Brady had rescued her from the protest demonstration, they’d walked to the public lot where his car had been parked. The blue Camaro was shiny and new.
“Wow!” she’d said, impressed. “Nice car.”
“I just got it last week. The old one broke down when I was driving home from school.”
He was dressed in bell-bottom jeans and a knit shirt, but from the way Brady Malone spoke and acted, she’d expected he’d come from a middle-class home. Now she knew he was probably upper middle class. “Did you buy the car yourself?”
“I work summers on my dad’s construction sites. But I have to admit, he helped with this. Bottom line is, he and Mom don’t want to drive me back and forth to school. And I’ll need a car eventually. It’ll sit in the garage when I’m away, but I think my dad wanted something tangible of mine that he could take care of. Sort of like he’s doing something for me.”
She hated the fact that this man was leaving the U.S. to risk his life in a war everyone was confused about, a war that took up so much of the news and caused controversy. “You might not go. More troops could be pulled out. You could get a medical deferment.”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he told her over the hood of the car.
She saw the truth of it in his eyes. Her heart pounded every time she looked at him. How could that be when she’d known him such a short time?
“Where do you live?” he asked.
Now she went on alert. “Why do you need to know?”
“We could get something to eat near wherever you live, then I could drop you off at home.” Studying her face, his gaze lingering on the daisy over her temple, he suggested almost casually, “On the other hand, if you’re afraid to ride in the car with me, if you think I’m going to take advantage of you, I can walk you to the bus stop.”
He seemed annoyed that she would even consider he wasn’t a man with a fine reputation. That bit of arrogance wasn’t unattractive. “Where do you live?” she asked.
“So you can seek vengeance if I don’t behave?” Now he grinned and the annoyance was gone.
That smile. With it, he could become president of the United States. Or join a rock band. “I’m keeping my options open.”
He laughed. “I live behind the hospital.”
Those were nice homes, and reinforced her feeling that this man might be out of her league. “I live in Elmwood—Third Avenue. Half a house.” She wanted to make it clear she didn’t come from one of the large homes on the boulevard or even in the nicer single-family dwellings on Fourth Avenue.
“We can go to the Sportsman Diner.”
The restaurant was close to Third Avenue. “They have more than burgers and fries.”
He gave her another one of those long appraisals. “I think you could use more than burgers and fries.”
“Hey, if you don’t like the way I look—”
“I didn’t say that.” His voice had a sensual I’m interested quality to it.
She was skinny and her legs were long. That was why she preferred skirts that fell below her calves. Her tummy tumbled as her gaze met his again. What was she doing?
Suddenly he came around to her side of the car and opened the door. The gesture was his personal invitation. She couldn’t resist it. She couldn’t resist him. She slid into the low, blue vinyl bucket seat, and when he closed her door, a happy feeling warmed her.
Over the next hour, they’d eaten and gotten to know each other. They’d stayed away from discussing the demonstration and the war, sensing they were on opposite sides, if not by belief then by circumstance. She loved listening to Brady’s deep voice. She liked studying his interesting face with the slight bump on his nose, the scar along the right side of his mouth, the beard line growing darker on his jaw.
It distracted her so. She yearned to touch it. Instead she tried to focus her mind on the conversation.
“So your parents were killed when you were twelve?” he asked, finishing a slice of coconut cake.
When she nodded, an old weight filled her heart. The deep cavern of missing would never have a bottom no matter how many years passed. “Yes, and my aunt Marcia took me in. It wasn’t a free choice. She was my only relative. She let me live with her because she knew I wouldn’t give her any trouble.”
“That’s not a reason to take in a child who’s lost her parents.”
“It’s been okay. I’m hoping by next year to be promoted to department manager. When I get that jump in salary, I can rent my own apartment.”
He reached across the table, and she thought he was going to take her hand. But he backed off. “You’ve been through some tough times. I can’t imagine only having an aunt for family. I have two younger brothers and a younger sister. I always have family around. Holidays at our house are wild.”
“Holidays at my aunt’s are quiet. In fact, she went away over Christmas and I spent it with a friend.” Laura mentioned it as if it was no big deal. The truth was, she’d had a great time with her best high-school friend and her mother, better than she would have had with her aunt. But she longed for a family of her own. More than anything, she wanted to be a mother. But she couldn’t tell Brady that. Not yet. Maybe someday.
They talked until the restaurant emptied, asking for refills on coffee to occupy the waitress. They had so much to say. All the while Brady had gazed at her with a focus she’d never felt from a man. They listened to much of the same music, and after dinner when “Aquarius” played on the car radio as he drove through Elmwood, they sang along—“Let the sunshine in.”
Laura loved the unselfconscious way she felt around Brady. It was as if she’d known him for years instead of hours. Her sixth sense told her he wasn’t leading her on.
After he drove down her street and she pointed out her house, he parked at the curb, then came around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She was terrifically aware of him as they walked up the path to the three concrete steps.
“Is your aunt strict?” he asked. “I mean, does she expect you home at a certain time?”
Laura checked her watch. “My aunt spends Saturday nights with friends. She won’t be home for a while.”
A corner of his lips quirked up. “Does that mean you’re going to invite me in?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You shouldn’t have been involved in an antiwar demonstration that could have landed you in jail,” he muttered, obviously disappointed with her answer.
