elevator doors opened and he stopped speaking, letting his words fade into the walls. She wondered if he would ever stop mourning his uncle. If he would accept Spencer for the bastard he was.
The fourteenth floor, where the Ashton-Lattimer executives made their corporate marks on the world, presented a modern decor.
Walker introduced her to a few of the secondary bigwigs, men who treated him with the utmost respect. She wondered if there were any women at the top of the food chain.
Finally he showed her his office—a spacious state-of-the-art domain in shades of gray, with silverframed watercolors, a shiny black desk and floor-to-ceiling windows. Walker was a man rooted to the city.
This wasn’t déjà vu. This wasn’t Edward all over again. Being with Walker in San Francisco created a whole new stream of emotions.
New fears. New challenges.
Letting Edward go had been her salvation, a part of her growth, of who she was destined to become. But losing Walker—
“Come on,” he said, cutting through her thoughts like a machete. “I’ll introduce you to my assistant.”
He escorted her to a smaller office, but apparently the woman at the lacquered desk wasn’t who he expected to see. “Kerry?” He gave her a curious study. “Where’s Linda?”
Kerry came to her feet, and Tamra did her damnedest not to stare. Tall and curvaceous, the stunning blonde wore a lavender suit and chic yet under-stated jewelry. Her eyes, a color that could only be described as violet, were framed with dark, luxurious lashes.
Talk about beautiful. This girl had it all.
Tamra prayed she wasn’t a former bed mate of Walker’s. An office liaison. A hot-tub bunny. She couldn’t deal with feminine rivalry, not now, not today.
“Linda called in sick,” Kerry said. “She caught that awful flu that’s been going around, so I’m covering for her.”
“Fine. No problem. You’re more than qualified.” Walker sent the Ashton-Lattimer employee a professional smile, then turned to Tamra and made the introduction.
Kerry, whose last name was Roarke, extended her hand with genuine warmth, and Tamra knew, right then and there, that she’d never slept with Walker. There was nothing between him and the breathtaking blonde, not even a passing interest.
“Kerry used to be Spencer’s executive administrative assistant,” he said. “After he died, she transferred to Human Resources, but she helps out wherever she’s needed.”
Now Tamra wondered if Kerry had been involved with Spencer. Given his penchant for infidelity, she could only imagine how badly he’d probably wanted her.
But was Kerry the type to sleep with a married man?
While Walker and the blonde talked business, Tamra sat in a leather chair. Every so often, she stole a glance at the other woman, still wondering about her.
Finally the meeting ended.
After Walker took Tamra’s hand and led her out of the building, he stopped to kiss her, to brush his mouth across hers.
As a moderate breeze swirled around them, she decided that she was ready to visit Jade’s grave, to bring her daughter and the man she loved together. Because after Tamra was gone, Walker would remain in San Francisco, keeping Jade from being alone.
Tamra gave Walker directions to the cemetery, but he stopped at a florist first. She wandered around the flower shop, her thoughts spinning like a pinwheel.
She didn’t want to go home without telling him that she loved him. Yet she wasn’t sure if a confession was in order. What did she hope to accomplish by admitting the truth? Did she think it would change the status of their relationship? That he would abandon his corporate lifestyle and move to Pine Ridge with her?
Fat chance, she thought. Love wasn’t a miracle.
But what was the point of keeping quiet? Of suffering in silence? She studied a bouquet of daisies, feeling like a schoolgirl who couldn’t temper her emotion-laced whims.
He loves me. He loves me not.
Walker was Mary’s son. He would always be part of Tamra’s life. Seeing him from year to year was inevitable. She couldn’t ignore the connection they shared.
“What about pink roses?” he asked, his voice sounding behind her.
She turned, looked into his eyes. Mary had warned her in the beginning about getting hurt, about falling in love. But now Walker’s mother thought he and Tamra were good together.
“Pink roses?” she parroted.
He nodded. “With baby’s breath. And maybe a toy, too. Something fluffy. They have teddy bears. A lamb that’s really cute. The florist said they can add a toy to the arrangement.”
She wanted to put her arms around him, to hold him close. He seemed like Jade’s earthbound angel. Her tall, dark, masculine protector. “That sounds perfect.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “I’ll be right back with the stuffed animals. We’ll have to choose which one we want.”
Tamra glanced at the daisies again.
He loves me. He loves me not.
Walker returned with a pink teddy bear in one hand and a white lamb in the other. He held them up, wiggling each toy, making them come to life. “Which one do you like better?”
“I don’t know.” The teddy bear had big expressive eyes and the lamb offered a tender smile. “Why don’t you decide?”
He made a puzzled face, giving the stuffed animals a serious examination. “Maybe we should get both. The other one might feel bad if we leave it behind.”
Tamra wondered how this could be the same man who’d allowed Spencer Ashton to influence him, to guide him, to mold and shape him into the adult he’d become.
She couldn’t imagine Spencer buying toys for a baby’s grave. Or, heaven forbid, worrying about the emotional welfare of a white lamb or a pink bear.
“Thank you, Walker. This means a lot to me.”
His gaze locked on hers. The cozy flower shop, with its festive colors, refrigerated cases and vinedraped displays, made him look even more masculine. Bigger, broader, stronger in the sun-dappled light.
“Jade is going to be happy to see you. To know you’re here,” he said. Then he paused for a moment, mulling something over in his mind. “When we get back to Napa Valley, we should take my mom to my dad’s resting place.”
Tamra couldn’t quit looking at him. A strand of hair, loosened from the San Francisco breeze, cut across his forehead, slicing over one dark eyebrow. She had the notion to smooth it into place. Just to touch him, she thought. Just to tempt her fingers.
“Charlotte will probably do that,” she finally said.
“You’re
