tongues deflated. It was no one’s business but Eric’s who he married or why. Just as it was no one else’s business if Cecilia wanted to enjoy Geoff Bingham’s company for a few delightful hours.
Let them gossip, she thought with a private smile. These memories would be hers to savor for quite some time.
“You’re smiling again,” Geoff observed, turning at her car door to study her in the yellow glow of the parking lot lights.
“I had a lovely time,” she told him, tilting her smile up for him.
“So did I.” Ignoring anyone who might see them, he lowered his head and brushed a quick kiss against her cheek. As relatively innocent as the gesture was, it still made her knees go weak to feel his lips against her skin.
Geoff lifted his head, and though he was still smiling, there was a new heat in his eyes. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“Did you hear me protest?”
“No.” He bent toward her again. “So maybe you wouldn’t mind if I—”
She moved quickly out of his reach. A disregard for gossip was one thing, but her deeply entrenched sense of privacy prevented her from making a complete spectacle of herself. “This is a little too public for my taste.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets as if to demonstrate that he wouldn’t touch her again without permission. “Would you allow me to see you home? Just to make sure you get there safely?”
Though she wasn’t sure her safety had much to do with the offer, she took a moment to think about it. She supposed there was no harm in allowing him to follow her home. The fifteen-minute drive would give him the satisfaction of making a chivalrous gesture—and her the chance to think about whether she wanted to invite him inside when they got there.
She simply nodded and turned to slide into her car.
By the time she drove into her driveway, she had conducted a full, somewhat heated debate with herself about how she wanted the evening to end. Should she politely thank Geoff again for dinner, then send him on his way? Or should she ask him in for a nightcap and then see what happened?
Just how far was she willing to suspend reality this evening?
Chapter Three
Geoff parked his expensive, new-looking sports car behind the economy sedan Cecilia had bought used four years ago—another sign, she mused, that their lives couldn’t be more different. And then he moved toward her, his face shadowed, his lean, strong, yet somehow elegant body silhouetted by security lighting.
Even the way he walked fascinated her, she thought as she watched him approach. He held his head high and his shoulders squared—an innate air of confidence that probably came with being born a Bingham. It wasn’t arrogance she sensed in him, exactly—more an expectation of being accepted and respected, a feeling that had been lacking in her own background.
This man could have spent the evening anywhere he wanted—and with anyone—but he had chosen to spend it with her. She couldn’t deny that it was a huge boost to her feminine ego.
He stopped in front of her. “Nice neighborhood.”
“Thank you. I enjoy living here.”
It was an older neighborhood, filled with aging houses—and aging residents, many of whom had lived here since Cecilia was a little girl. The teenage girl next door was the youngest resident of the neighborhood since moving in with her grandparents a year ago.
Tall, stately trees guarded the sides of the narrow street, their branches nearly touching over it. Neat yards and flourishing flower beds gave testament to the pride her working-class neighbors took in their homes.
Cecilia had inherited her small white-frame house when her mother passed away three years earlier. Though she had protested, Eric had insisted on signing his half over to her—in gratitude, he had said, for her putting her own life on hold to care for their mother while he completed his education and embarked on his career.
Cecilia’s name was the only one on the deed now, but she still considered it Eric’s home, too. He made a point of keeping up the routine maintenance for her—such as painting the siding and shutters and flower boxes last spring—and he ate lunch with her every Sunday.
At least, he had until very recently, she corrected herself with a little ripple of sadness. Now that Eric was about to be married and was establishing his own family, some of the old routines had to change, Sunday lunches being one of them. As much as she welcomed Hannah into the family, Cecilia couldn’t help regretting a little that her role as the most important woman in Eric’s life had come to an end.
Now she wasn’t the most important person in anyone’s life, she had found herself thinking during the middle of several long, lonely nights. Though she had never been the type to indulge in self-pity, she was human enough to wish some things had turned out differently for her.
“Have you lived here long?”
Pulling herself back to the present, she replied to Geoff, “Since I was very young. This is the house where my mother raised Eric and me.”
Geoff nodded, his face still obscured by the shadows of the warm summer night. “You must miss her very much.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I miss my mom, too.”
The simple and palpably sincere statement brought a lump to her throat. She remembered Geoff’s mother—a beautiful, classy, kind-hearted woman who had been known as a tireless contributor to local charities. At only forty, Violet Bingham had died of a massive heart attack. That was almost ten years ago. Cecilia had been a relatively new employee of the clinic, but even then she had seen how the tragedy had devastated the family and the community.
People who knew him well said that Geoff’s father, Ron, would never get over the loss of his young wife. Cecilia had always considered it a shame that handsome, charming, still-vibrant Ronald Bingham should spend the rest of his life alone.
Maybe it was the moment of bonding or maybe it was the thought of the empty rooms waiting for her that made her say, “Would you like to come in for coffee? Or if you’re too tired, I—”
“I would love to come in for coffee,” he agreed before she could even finish the sentence. “I’ll just go lock my car first.”
Hoping she wasn’t making a gigantic mistake, Cecilia turned toward her front door.
Trying to be subtle about it, Geoff studied Cecilia’s home curiously when he followed her inside. The love of bright colors revealed by the red dress she had worn this evening was echoed in the decor of her living room. The sofa looked new—a splash of bright graphics on a deep-red background. The few wood pieces were old—a mix of refinished and fashionably distressed antiques.
On the walls hung framed prints of impressionistic paintings. The jewel-toned throw pillows scattered about the furniture had probably been hand crafted. It was a room that had been decorated by someone with excellent taste and limited funds. He liked it better than many expensive and professionally decorated rooms he had been in.
He made note of the framed photographs grouped
