you like to come?”
“I can’t. Not right now. But why didn’t you ask earlier?”
“I decided this morning. I found an incredible deal for an all-inclusive resort. I’ve never done anything like this, and I’m excited about it.”
Something wasn’t ringing true, Sara Beth decided. On the surface, maybe her mother was being honest, but there was more to it.
“E-mail me your itinerary,” Sara Beth said, giving her mother a hug. Maybe after the trip, she would open up. “And have fun. Remember your sunscreen. I do envy you a week of sunshine.”
“And margaritas.”
“That, too.”
During the bus ride home, Sara Beth tried to examine her mother’s announcement. She wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment person. Like Sara Beth, her mother analyzed, planned, then finally executed, usually to unsurprising results. Taking off for Cancún on only a few days’ notice was shocking enough, but to go alone?
Sara Beth’s cell phone rang as she stepped off the bus at her stop.
“Hi, it’s Ted. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
She knew his voice already, the deep, even tone that shot a thrill through her. The voice she hadn’t dared to hope she would hear. “No. Actually you’re keeping me company.”
“In what way?”
“I just got off the bus and I’m walking home. What’s up?”
“You know that stack of catalogs and magazines you gave me today?”
“Of course.” She’d asked him to thumb through them and turn down the pages of what appealed to him, then she could figure out where they needed to shop.
“I’m not seeing anything I like.”
“Nothing?” She’d given him everything from Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware catalogs to Architectural Digest magazines.
“Does that mean it’s hopeless?” he asked.
“I don’t know what it means. Maybe I’ll know more when I see the art you want to display.” She was curious about his loft, too, was looking forward to seeing where he lived. “Or maybe what it means is you should take Tricia up on her offer to help. Or hire a real decorator.”
He didn’t respond immediately. “Let’s see what we can do first. Where are you?”
“Not far from home. Why?”
“Can you see your house?”
“No, but I will in a few seconds. There. It’s in view. Why?”
“Just trying to get a picture of how far you’d gotten.” His tone was casual, but—
It hit her then. He was watching over her. He was keeping her on the phone until she was safely home. Maybe he gave his mother credit for drumming etiquette into him, but this wasn’t etiquette. This was a character trait, one she valued, and probably deeply ingrained in him.
Sara Beth was raised to be independent, like her mother. They’d never had a man around to help. It was always just the two of them, or the handyman they hired occasionally when a job was beyond their skills.
“I’m turning up my walkway,” she said, letting him know she knew what he was doing. “Climbing the first step. The second. Third. I’ve reached the landing.”
She heard him laugh softly, so she put a little drama into her voice. “I’m inserting the key in my lock. Oh, look! It’s turning. I’m opening the door. Now I’m shutting it—”
“And locking it.”
She put her phone next to the bolt as it fell into place. Locked.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No.” And she wasn’t. Warmth at his concern wove through her. She swallowed, not knowing what to tell him, so she just continued on with her running commentary. “I’m climbing the indoor stairs… unlocking my door … going inside … shutting and locking it. Done. Thank you. I couldn’t have managed it without you.”
He laughed.
“No, seriously, Ted, that was very thoughtful of you, walking me home.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
Friends. She toed off her shoes and sank onto her sofa. “I was coming back from dinner with my mom. We generally get together on Tuesdays.”
“That’s … nice?”
She laughed at how he turned it into a question. “Unlike you, my mom doesn’t pester me—that was the word, right? Pester? Anyway, she’s not after me about getting married.” But Sara Beth felt ready. She didn’t want to wait—had no reason to wait, in fact. She had a good job and money in the bank, had dated enough to know what she was looking for and who not to waste her time on.
“Which is why you see your mother every week, and I don’t do the same.”
“For my mom and me, it’s a routine,” she said, considering it. “We started the Tuesday-night dinners when I moved out after graduation six years ago, so it’s not just a routine but an ingrained habit now.”
“Like me not having furniture. I’m almost used to it.”
“We’ll figure out something. Maybe you can show me what you don’t like.”
“I’d be dog-earing almost every page. Well, I just wanted to warn you that the job may be harder than you were planning on. Might take longer than you think. I mean, if you have a date on Saturday night, tell me what time you need to be home.”
She hated admitting she didn’t have a date. He already knew she hadn’t had a date on Valentine’s Day. “I don’t have plans.”
“I appreciate your help, Sara Beth. You’ve been a good sport. See you tomorrow.”
She hung up the phone with a sigh. A good sport. He wasn’t the first man to call her that. Men enjoyed her company, and usually wanted to stay friends so that they could continue to unburden their personal woes on good-sport Sara Beth, who was a good listener, non-judgmental and accommodating. And here she was, repeating the pattern.
Technically he’s your boss. At least until this project was done. Which was an excellent reason for just being a good sport, she reminded herself, particularly since her body tingled around him.
She could always step back. If, after Saturday, she felt too drawn to him, too attracted, she could say no if he asked her to do anything outside of the institute.
But … would she?
The next morning Sara Beth felt her pulse rev and her face heat as she walked
