a private word with her.
He couldn’t remember why. He could barely organize his thoughts beyond the shocked realization that the woman leaning toward him with a fierce scowl on her face was a total stranger.
Callie Mitchell usually drifted along the edges of most rooms, never drawing attention to herself, never making waves. At the moment, that woman was nowhere to be found.
On the surface, she’d changed nothing but her dress. Yet now, Reese saw the woman beneath the dull facade. A little wilder, a tad more dangerous, exciting and—
“Reese?”
He’d been staring too long.
He opened his mouth, then shut it again as several voices rang out from the hallway. Not wanting an audience, Reese reached to take Callie’s arm. He dropped his hand before making contact. Touching her would be a terrible idea.
The worst of all terrible ideas.
He motioned her deeper into the office with a nod of his head. He did not, however, close the door behind her.
There was privacy. And then there was privacy.
“Please, Callie, take a seat.” He indicated the set of chairs facing his desk.
She nodded, moving through the room with exaggerated dignity, her steps graceful yet carefully monitored.
Always so controlled, he thought, always hiding behind a veil of self-possession and restraint.
How well he understood.
The realization they had that in common left him vaguely disturbed.
Her posture perfectly precise, she lowered into the burgundy wing-back chair facing his desk and placed the leather satchel upon her lap.
After a moment of consideration, Reese chose to sit in the empty chair beside her.
She twisted her hands together. With all emotion stripped from her face, she nearly fooled him into thinking she was completely self-possessed. But her gaze didn’t quite meet his, landing instead on a spot just above his right eye.
She was nervous.
Good to know he wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy.
Now that he had Callie alone—mostly—Reese wasn’t sure how to broach the subject that had been nagging at him for some time now. The direct approach was always best. “We need to discuss the changing nature of our relationship.”
Her gaze whipped to his and he noted, somewhat inappropriately, that her eyelashes were long, utterly enchanting and several shades darker than her blond hair.
“I wasn’t aware we had a relationship.”
He frowned at her stiff tone, oddly irritated. “Of course we do.” It was awkward and uncomfortable, to be sure, but existed all the same. “Now that you are Mrs. Singletary’s companion and I’m once again in charge of her business affairs, our paths will cross often.”
“Mrs. Singletary said the same thing just this morning.” She lowered her gaze. “My brother taking that job in St. Louis has brought changes to all our lives.”
Before now, Reese hadn’t considered what the attorney’s departure meant to Callie. “You miss him.”
“Very much.” She worked her hands together in her lap. “I also miss his wife, Molly.”
“You two were close?”
“Oh, yes, but not as close as—” She broke off, drew her bottom lip between her teeth, looked everywhere but at him.
“Not as close as you and Fanny,” he finished for her.
She nodded. “I miss her most of all.”
“That’s understandable. You are sisters. And the only two girls in a large family of boys.” As an only child he couldn’t imagine what it was like to grow up with that many siblings.
“Fanny has always been my best friend.” She met his gaze. “We are only eleven months apart in age.”
Reese tried not to show his surprise, even as he did a mental calculation. He’d always thought Callie far older than her sister. Her maturity, her outer calm and, of course, her ability to control her emotions were qualities he attributed to a woman far older than twenty-three.
“Have you heard from your sister recently?”
“No.” She shook her head. “She has not answered any of my letters.”
“None of them?”
“Not one.”
That didn’t sound like Fanny. Then again, Reese was quickly discovering how little he knew the woman he’d once asked to marry him. How could she not respond to her only sister’s letters?
No wonder Callie appeared upset.
For a shocking moment, he yearned to pull her to him and offer what comfort he could. The urge grew stronger when she wiped secretly at her eyes and snuffled a little. The sound was practically nonexistent, and all the more sorrowful because of the restraint.
“It must be difficult,” he said, lowering his voice, “not hearing from your own sister.”
“You have no idea.” Her expression closed, but not before he’d seen the hint of misery in her eyes. “Have you heard from Fanny?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m so sorry. Oh, Reese, truly I am.” Her hand reached out and touched his forearm, as if she thought he needed comforting. “Do not despair. Fanny will come to her senses.”
Surely, Callie didn’t think he pined for her sister. For a long, tense moment, he watched her watching him with silent sympathy in her gaze.
This, he realized, was why he’d wanted to speak with her alone. They needed to sort a few things out between them. “I miss your sister, it’s true. But not, perhaps, as you may think.” He held her gaze, willing her to hear him. “I miss our friendship.”
“Your...friendship?” She said the word as if tasting something foul. “Surely Fanny was more to you than a friend.”
“At the time I issued my proposal I believed your sister and I were well suited.” An error in judgment he didn’t plan to repeat. Perhaps relying on Mrs. Singletary’s help would turn out to be a wise move, after all. What better way to avoid pursuing the wrong woman again? “I’m not what your sister wants.”
Callie flinched as though he’d slapped her. “Don’t say that. Of course you are. Fanny is going to change her mind, I just know it. And then you and she can—”
“No, we can’t.”
“But—” she blinked at him “—if she came home, wouldn’t you want to—”
“I would not.”
