disclosures, she laughed them off. “You’d be surprised at what I can do.”
Hector was surprised already, and not just because the soup was tasty and hit the spot.
He was amazed that he was inside the Keating house, that he and Samantha were eating dinner together and having this conversation. And even though she’d answered each of his questions so far, there was a lot more he wanted know, like: What other talents did she have? And why had she stayed away so long before coming back now?
Sure, she’d told him that her mother had been terminally ill, that she’d nursed her until she’d died. And she’d mentioned an “extended trip” to Europe. But five years was a long time, especially when she had to pay property taxes and upkeep on an empty house in an upscale neighborhood.
He figured she must have really loved Peter a lot and assumed that it had been too tough for her to stay here after he’d died.
Then again, maybe it was just that she’d finally quit grieving and had decided to start living. The pregnancy certainly suggested that she’d put the past behind her.
He continued to eat in silence, to relish the taste of his soup—a rich chicken broth, tender meat, noodles and fresh vegetables. As far as meals went, this was only simple fare—but just the kind of thing his mother whipped up on a rainy day. And it sure hit the spot.
The wind, which had been blowing steadily for the past hour or so, seemed to die down some. The rain was still coming down, though, but it wasn’t beating against the windows like it had done earlier.
The lights flickered a time or two, then kicked back on.
“Hey, how about that?” she said. “We’ve got electricity again.”
“Just like magic,” he joked.
She smiled, an alluring glimmer in her eyes that suggested the magic wasn’t limited to the wiring in the house. Or was he reading too much into her expression because he wanted to see some kind of spark there?
Damn. She was a beautiful woman, and the fact that he found her so attractive was a little unsettling. He tried to shake it all off, yet even when he stole a peek at her profile, at the growing baby bump, he couldn’t think of a better description of what he felt. Samantha Keating was a stunning beauty and as sexy as hell—pregnant or not.
And now that the lights had come on and extinguished the romantic aura, he needed to clear his head of crazy thoughts. It was probably best if he thanked her for dinner and left.
“Well, I guess I’d better take advantage of the lull in the storm and head home.” He got to his feet and picked up their empty bowls, stacking them, along with their spoons. Then he snatched their glasses and carried them to the sink. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything?”
“Thanks for asking. I’ve got your candles and matches in case the lights go out again, so I’ll be fine.”
Yeah, but she probably wasn’t all that comfortable staying alone. She’d said so herself.
But that wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. He’d brought her candles, provided a little company.
He’d already gone above and beyond the call of neighborly duty.
Their mess was cleaned up in no time at all, and he made his way to the front door.
“Thanks again,” she said.
“No problem.” He tossed her a safe, neighborly smile and stepped outside. Once on the porch, he opened his umbrella, then headed home. As he neared his front yard, he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder for one last look at the Keating house.
Samantha stood at the living-room window, watching him go.
The moment her eyes caught his, his pulse kicked up a notch. But he didn’t look away. And for a long, heart-tingling moment, neither did she. Had she felt something, too? The attraction, the … chemistry?
Before he could come to any kind of conclusion, she slowly turned away and closed the blinds.
The momentary connection in their gaze had left him unbalanced, and so had his reaction to it.
He’d never been attracted to pregnant women before. Why would he be? Yet for some crazy reason, he seemed to be attracted to this one.
Or maybe it wasn’t attraction at all. Maybe he was just drawn to her because she was so vulnerable right now. And not just because of her obvious physical limitations. He’d sensed an emotional vulnerability in her, too.
With her mother gone, there was no one to look after her—certainly not the father of the baby, who’d probably sold his sperm to a clinic, pocketed the cash and never looked back.
For a guy who’d learned to put emotions aside, especially in the courtroom, he sure seemed to be wallowing in sympathy for his neighbor. And maybe that was a good thing, a sign that he wasn’t as unfeeling as some women might think.
His ex-wife hadn’t been the only one to point out his emotional distance, his tendency to be cold and remote. Roxanne, the woman he’d been dating up until last month, had made a similar comment right before they’d broken up.
“You’re insensitive to anyone’s needs but your own,” she’d said.
At the time, Hector had wondered if she might have been right. Maybe his job had hardened him. But he’d come to the conclusion that there’d been another reason he hadn’t been too concerned with Roxanne’s needs. He had to admit there hadn’t been much chemistry between them, no real connection. So it hadn’t taken much to make their relationship fall apart, and after an argument—he couldn’t even remember what it had been about—it had been time to let go and to move on.
So now, in one sense, he was relieved to know that his sensitive side had kicked in with Samantha. At least that meant he wasn’t as cold and unfeeling as Roxanne or Patrice had claimed he was.
He started to look over his shoulder one more time, then caught himself. What in the hell was he doing? That blasted curiosity was going to be his downfall one of these days, especially when it came to Samantha. You’d think he was actually interested in going out with her or something.
Shaking off the mislabeled attraction, he picked up his pace and hurried home.
After the blackout, Samantha did her best to forget about Hector’s kindness, although she couldn’t quite get over the fact that he’d caught her gawking at him on his way home.
Her breath had caught when their eyes met, and her blood had zipped through her veins—and not just because she’d felt a momentary rush of attraction or sudden embarrassment, but because it had seemed as if he’d felt something, too.
Had he?
As she’d turned away from the fogging glass, she wondered if he’d struggled with the same urge she’d had, if he’d felt compelled to take one last look at her, too.
Then she’d scolded herself for having such a wild and crazy thought. How could a man like that be attracted to a pregnant woman?
He’d probably just felt her eyes on his back and looked over his
