me about your baby.”
There was nothing to be gained from denial. But he would understand more if she began elsewhere. “I’ll go back to the beginning if you don’t mind.”
“A good place to start.” He kissed her fingers again before tucking her hand against his chest. The warmth of him, even through his clothing, calmed and comforted her.
“I told you that I was a stockbroker in Charlotte.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I was good, really good at my job. There were a half dozen of us, and competition was fierce. Gracious for the most part, but inescapable. I had a knack for putting together portfolios, and people liked working with me, because I didn’t make them feel stupid or uninformed about their money. We had a number of very wealthy clients with neither the time nor the inclination to grow their fortunes, so we did it for them.”
“I’m having a hard time reconciling killer Phoebe with the woman who bakes her own bread.”
His wry observation actually made her laugh. “I can understand your confusion. Back then I focused on getting ahead in my profession. I was determined to be successful and financially comfortable.”
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