thought I’d fall apart again if you left me alone.”
“I was concerned about you. I am concerned,” he admitted.
“Don’t be.”
It was her tone as much as the words that informed him the ice princess was back. Or so she wanted him to believe. But why? What had happened to make her so distrustful, so wary?
He shook off the thought. Whatever it was, it was her problem. She’d said as much herself. He didn’t need to worry about Arden Doherty, and he didn’t need any complications in his own life right now.
As she shared dinner and conversation with Shaun, Arden found herself beginning to relax. She’d wanted to be annoyed with him for having forced the situation. She didn’t like being coerced into anything. But she was also grateful. She had planned to go back to work, but she knew that by six o’clock the office would be empty. There would be no one with whom to share meaningless conversation, nothing to distract her from thinking about Denise and Brian, wondering if there was something more she could have done, something that might have changed the way things had turned out.
She’d thought she wanted to be alone, but what she really wanted—what she needed—was a diversion.
Shaun McIver was one hell of a diversion.
He was certainly a pleasure to look at: more than six feet of well-honed male with sun-kissed golden highlights in his dark blond hair. His face was angular, with slashing cheekbones and a slight dimple in his square chin. But it was his eyes that got to her. They were a dark mossy green with amber flecks that could take her breath away if she let them.
Which she didn’t. He might be a beautiful specimen of masculinity, but she wasn’t interested. Not in Shaun McIver, not in any other man. She’d learned a long time ago that opening herself up to love meant opening herself up to heartache. Her mother, her stepfather, her almost-fiancé—everyone who’d ever claimed to love her had hurt her. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Still, she had no moral objection to sharing a meal with Shaun, especially when the food was Mexican and she was starving.
By the time they left the restaurant after dinner, the temperature outside had dropped several degrees. Arden shivered, and Shaun slipped an arm over her shoulders. She shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the chill in the air.
Arden frowned. She didn’t understand her reaction to him. Surely she didn’t have any romantic feelings for Shaun—that was too ridiculous to consider. Maybe it had just been too long since she’d been with a man. Too long since she’d even wanted to be. In the past several years, she hadn’t met anyone who understood the importance of her career. Even the lawyers she’d dated thought her commitment bordered on obsession. And there were times, even she had to admit, when it did. When it had to. Because there were times when she was the last hope for the abused women and children who came to her for help.
Shaun turned automatically in the direction of Arden’s apartment building. She’d forgotten that he knew where she lived, that he’d been drafted by Nikki to help Arden move several months earlier.
“You don’t have to walk me home,” she protested.
“What would Nikki say if I didn’t see you safely to your door?”
Arden shrugged but didn’t bother to respond as they headed down the street. They walked in companionable silence, listening to the muted sounds of the evening. Fairweather was hardly a booming metropolis at the best of times, and by eight o’clock on a Friday evening, this part of the downtown core was pretty much asleep. A few streets over, people would be filtering in to the bars and dance clubs, but here everything was quiet. Her apartment, just a few blocks ahead, would be quieter still.
“I really should have gone back to the office,” Arden said, wondering if she should do so now.
“It’s Friday night,” Shaun reminded her. “If it’s that important, it will be there tomorrow.”
She nodded. He was right, but she couldn’t help thinking that work might help keep her mind occupied, help her push the events of the day aside—at least for a while. Shaun’s company had provided a reprieve, as he’d promised, but she knew that the haunting memories would come back as soon as he was gone.
She turned up the walk to the front door of her building, his arm dropping from her shoulders as she reached in her pocket for the key. “I can find my way from here.”
“Is that a not-so-polite way of saying good-night?”
“I thought it was polite,” she said.
He smiled, and her heart stuttered. She told herself the reaction was a result of her exhaustion and not indicative of any attraction. She almost believed it.
“It would be more polite to invite me inside for a cup of tea,” he said.
“I don’t have any tea.”
“Coffee, then.”
She didn’t really want to be alone, but she didn’t understand why he wanted to spend any more time with her. “Fine. Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee?”
His smile widened; her pulse accelerated. “That would be great.”
The old, converted home that housed her apartment didn’t have the luxury of elevators, so she led the way through the small lobby to the stairs. On the second-floor landing, they passed Greta Dempsey, one of Arden’s neighbors, with Rocky, Greta’s toy poodle. The flamboyant Greta was dressed for an evening in front of the television in a fuchsia satin robe with lime-green slippers on her feet and curlers in her hair. Rocky had fuchsia bows on both of his ears. After exchanging greetings, Mrs. Dempsey looked Shaun up and down, then grinned at Arden and indicated her approval with a thumbs-up.
Wishing Mrs. Dempsey a good evening, Arden hurried up the last flight of stairs to her third-floor apartment, grateful that the dim lighting in the hallway wouldn’t reveal the flush that infused her cheeks.
She unlocked the door of her apartment and stepped inside, her hand halting in mid-air by the light switch as her gaze landed on the envelope on the hardwood floor.
And the knot in her belly that had only started to loosen, tightened again.
Chapter 2
Shaun hadn’t missed the sudden hitch in Arden’s breathing as she fumbled for the lights. Concerned, he stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. Her eyes were wide and focused on the floor. Following her gaze, he bent to pick up the envelope. There was no postage, no address, no return address. Nothing but her name printed in red ink. Nothing at all to explain the prickling sensation at the back of his neck or his sudden and instinctive desire to protect her.
“Do you always get mail delivered to your door?” he asked casually, offering her the envelope.
Arden blinked, then took the letter from him. “Not—” she cleared her throat “—not usually.”
She walked into the kitchen, tossed the piece of mail onto the counter as if it was of no importance. But he’d seen the fear in her eyes, the erratic throbbing of the pulse at the base of her jaw as she’d taken the envelope from his hand. It was as if she already
