was part of what she knew she needed to guard against—what seemed like a really great date to her was nothing but an ordinary, everyday dinner to him…
“Or is that how this has to be?” he went on. “Strictly business? Do we need to sit on opposite sides of a desk, only between nine and five, and be formal and stuffy?”
Strictly business—that’s what she’d told her mother this was. That was what she wanted it to be, what she needed it to be. But stuffy and formal? Sitting on opposite sides of a desk? Not only was that unlikely to get her the same kind of intimate portrait that came when an interviewee was relaxed and talking freely, but it definitely didn’t appeal to her when it came to Tate McCord.
And that was another warning sign—the fact that Tate was striking a personal note in her that had nothing to do with work.
On the other hand, her first priority was getting the best story she could, and to that end, friendly and casual was the route to take.
“No, I don’t want this to be done sitting opposite each other at a desk,” she answered his question a little belatedly. “But I want to see the side of the McCords that isn’t about being greeted by name by a state senator or where everyone in the place knows what you eat and drink—like tonight and last night, too. I’m well aware of the fact that the McCords are Texas royalty—even walking through the hospital with you was like being in a parade. What I’m hoping is that there’s something else to you all. Something that gets you outside of your comfort zone and puts you in touch with the rest of the world—you know, those of us who are real?”
They’d reached the McCord estate but Tate hadn’t pulled up to the garages. He’d gone around the other way to stop as near to the housekeeper’s bungalow as he could get. When he turned off the engine he angled in his seat to look at Tanya.
“And just how far outside of your comfort zone have you ventured? How in touch with the rest of the world are you—as a real person? Because worldly is not how you strike me at the ripe old age of…what? Twenty-three?”
He was apparently not opposed to more confrontation tonight.
“Okay, I’m not worldly,” Tanya agreed. “But I think there’s a huge portion of our society and the everyday life that most people live that you are out of touch with,” she said, still calm but pulling no punches.
“I’m out of touch?” Tate said as if he were challenging her. But at the same time, something about this debate also seemed to have amused him because his eyes were bright and alive and he was barely suppressing a smile.
And as long as she wasn’t alienating him, she didn’t back down. “If you’re talking about having gone to the Middle East like I’ve been told that you did, then no, that isn’t an experience I’ve had or can relate to. And while I don’t know why you went or where you were or how close to the war you got, or anything but that you spent a year somewhere over there, what I’m thinking is that you don’t even have a concept of what life is like for the everyday person here, outside of your cushy existence. Given that, it’s no wonder that what you must have encountered there was difficult for you to handle, and maybe if you hadn’t been wrapped in cotton before—”
Tanya stopped herself because she realized suddenly that she was talking out of school. She was only guessing at what was going on with him, guessing that the reason he was so affected by his year away was because he’d gone from a virtual cocoon into something his life—of all lives—hadn’t prepared him for. And she was doing that guessing based solely on what she’d heard from her mother and the other house staff.
“I’m sorry, that was out of line,” she apologized in a hurry. “It’s just that there’s a lot of talk about you being depressed and changed and—”
She was getting in deeper and deeper.
“I should shut up,” she concluded.
“And you think that because I spent my life wrapped in cotton that seeing what I saw in Iraq was more than I could take?”
Oh, she was sooo far over the line…
“I’m not even sure how we got into this so let’s back up. Even when I lived here as a kid what I saw was more the trappings of your family’s money and status and what it allowed you all. But that isn’t the story I want. Or the story I thought you agreed to give me. Whatever is going on with you—in your head—is your own business and none of mine. I shouldn’t have shot off my mouth about it.”
“But that’s what everybody in your circle is saying? That I’m depressed?”
She wanted to kick herself. She also didn’t want to get anyone into trouble and knew she had to do some damage control.
“Whether you realize it or not, people like my mom and some of the other staff who have been around a long time care about you. They’re worried about you. They’re only saying that you seem to have a lot on your mind, and my mom—in particular—doesn’t like that I’m bothering you when you don’t seem to be yourself. It’s not like you’re being gossiped about.”
He stared at her for a long moment and beyond the fact that he still appeared entertained by her discomfort, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Then he said, “You can reassure everyone that I’m not depressed and that they don’t need to worry.”
“Good to know,” Tanya said, not feeling at all relieved.
She was hoping for more from him that might let her know he wasn’t going to make a big deal about this with the staff but there was no more to come.
Instead Tate pivoted in his seat again and got out, coming around to her side. But it seemed strange to wait for him to open her door. This wasn’t a date, after all.
It also felt odd to have him walk her through the tree-lined path that led to her mother’s cottage but that was what he did.
“Is living with your mom again a permanent arrangement?” he asked along the way, apparently returning to small talk.
“No, I’m just staying with her until I recoup some of my moving expenses and can find a place of my own.”
“Do you have paper and something to write with?” he asked as they came through the trees on the other side and stepped onto the bungalow’s front stoop.
Tanya didn’t know what he was getting at, but she opened the small purse she was carrying and handed him a pen and a notepad she’d brought with her thinking that she was going to be working tonight.
He wrote an address on the paper and handed it back to her. Tanya assumed it was a lead on an apartment.
“Meet me there tomorrow morning at nine,” he commanded.
Tanya looked from the paper to him, trying not to notice that the porch light illuminated the high spots of his handsome face and threw the hollows and angles into sharp shadows that only made him look dangerously attractive.
“I really won’t be able to afford an apartment for a couple of months so it would be a waste of time—”
“It isn’t an apartment.”
