Part 9 (1/2)

Evan laughed dryly. He'd heard that often enough. ”Like night and day.” Devin was day, while he was night Women generally preferred the day.

Differences were what made things interesting. She wondered if his brother lived anywhere close.

”It must have been nice, though, having someone to talk to when you were growing up.” She'd spent her entire childhood wis.h.i.+ng she'd had a brother or sister to share the loneliness with. It hurt horribly to discover that she had had one all along without knowing it, without being able to do anything about finding her. ”I imagine you must have been close at one point.” She finished was.h.i.+ng off his plate and set it next to the pan to dry.

Evan considered for a minute. ”Maybe. I was closer to one of my sisters, really.”

”Sisters?” She dried her hands and draped the towel over the back of the chair before sitting down again. ”How many are there in your family?”

She sounded as if she was really interested, he thought, and wondered why. ”Four, counting me, not counting my parents. How many in yours?”

The question seemed to come of its own accord. As a rule, he didn't delve into people's private lives. He simply had no curiosity about others to prompt the questions, not the way Devin had.

But Claire was different. She made him curious. Maybe because the circ.u.mstances he found himself in with her were so unusual.

”Two,” she said firmly. ”Libby and me.”

He had the strangest feeling a door had just shut. ”I meant-”

”I know what you meant,” she said tersely. The rest came out as if she were reciting it. ”I was an only child.” There was no point in telling him about the sister she'd never known. ”My mother died when I was six. My father was a surgeon. I hardly ever saw him.”

He picked up on the crucial word. ”'Was'?”

”Was,” she repeated. ”He died, too, before Libby was born.”

She had no grandfather to give her daughter, and no grandmother. That bothered her at times, although it didn't seem to faze Libby any more than not having a father did. She was one terrific little girl, Claire thought warmly.

”So,” Claire concluded briskly, ”in a way, that makes her my whole family.”

There was more here, he thought, deciding to turn the tables on her and press. ”'In a way'?”

She shrugged, looking off. There was no reason this should make her uncomfortable, except, perhaps, in the manner it had been revealed to her. Like some dark secret to be atoned for. But then, that had been her father's doing.

”I was adopted,” she said matter-of-factly. ”Maybe that's why I relate so much to Rachel. We were both given away.” She realized that there was more emotion in her voice than she had intended and was quick to remedy that. ”My birth mother gave me away, and my adoptive father couldn't find it in his heart to get close to me.”

The smile on her face was sad, Evan thought. It stirred something within him, a desire to comfort, to protect. It was, he realized, a first for him. He rather liked it, although for the time being, he didn't explore why. Life was complicated enough for him right now as it was.

”When I was little, I used to think it was because of something I had done. Oh, he was a nice man and all that,” Claire added quickly. ”I had all the creature comforts a kid could want. Except for love.” And without love, she thought, none of the rest had really meant anything. ”He just couldn't find it in his heart to love a stranger. That was the way he always thought of me, he said, as a stranger. I didn't know that until he was dying. He made a confession to me. A dramatic deathbed scene during which he asked my forgiveness.”

She pressed her lips together. It seemed foolish to let this hurt now. It was years in the past But it made no difference. She had had so much love to give her father, and he'd never wanted it. It had all gone to waste.

”It seemed that he'd never wanted to adopt me. It was all his wife's idea. And then she died and left him to take care of me. Poor man, he was never cut out to be a father. He had a lousy bedside manner, too.”

A sad smile turned to one of compa.s.sion as she thought of Douglas Walker. It hadn't been his fault, either. He just didn't have it in him to love anyone other than his wife.

”He was a really great neurosurgeon, but not a man to shoot the breeze with. Or derive any comfort from.”

”And you forgave him?”

”Sure. What else could I do? Besides, I was so relieved that it wasn't because of anything I had done.”

Another woman, he thought, would have withheld forgiveness, feeling that revenge was her due.

Claire blew out a breath. She'd talked way too much. ”All right, there you have it, my life story.”

”Not quite.” Evan looked toward the living room. She knew he was thinking of Libby.

”We'll save that for another time.” With an air of finality, Claire rose and pushed her chair against the table. ”All right, if you're sufficiently fed and rested, Libby and I have to be going.”

The thought of her leaving didn't rest any better with him now than it did last night.

”Um, look, I have to check in with my office. Not physically, just over the telephone,” he explained quickly before she could get it into her head to deliver another lecture, or worse, just turn on her heel and leave. He put himself on the line and asked, ”Could you hang around until I finish?”

She felt uncomfortable after what she'd just told him. There was no reason for her to have said all that she had. It wasn't as if she'd been reacting to his compa.s.sion or sympathy. If anything, she'd been reacting to Rachel's dilemma.

Right now, all she wanted to do was go home. ”How long a conversation?”

He wasn't about to give her an exact time frame. This way, if he ran over, she'd still stay.

”Not long.”

There was nothing pressing for her to do now that she had fed Libby. She was still running on empty as far as work went, and staring at the blank screen would only de-press her.

”All right, I guess I can manage that. Go ahead, make your call. And while you're at it,” she added just as he began to leave, ”squeeze in a shower and change your clothes.”

She was being gracious again. Evan looked down. Accustomed to always being impeccably dressed, he knew he should feel self-conscious, but for some reason, he didn't. Not around her. He wondered what that meant. ”I guess I do look pretty awful.”

Claire smiled. ”Not awful, just wrinkled and stained.” She smoothed out his s.h.i.+rt collar, but it was hopeless at this point. The whole s.h.i.+rt needed to be cleaned and pressed. ”I'll see if I can get some of this out for you.”

He placed his hand over hers to stop her fingers from fluttering and from causing his breakfast to churn in a stomach suddenly gone tight. He was going to tell her that she didn't have to, then stopped himself when he realized that he wanted her to.

”I'd appreciate that.” The words dripped from his lips, his eyes on hers.

He wasn't finished; she could tell by the way he left the end hanging. ”And?” she prodded, waiting.

Something had been bothering him all the time she'd been sitting across from him. All the time he'd been looking at her. Unfinished business.

”And, I'd like to kiss you again. This time, not by accident.”

Claire felt her pulse jump. It always did when she was asking for trouble. And this was probably a double helping. The smart thing would be just to walk away. Quickly.

It was a hard thing to admit about herself, but she wasn't always smart.

”All right.” Her hand brushed against his collar, threading along the back of his neck. ”Will that be with or without starch?”

”Without,” he answered as he lowered his mouth to hers.