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  He shook off thoughts of Sadie. He couldn’t deal with that now, couldn’t deal with thoughts of what she was possibly telling Jake at that very moment.

  He crossed to the small oak bar in the corner of the living room and poured himself a couple of fingers of scotch. He settled himself in supple leather, his body sinking deep into the soft cushions of his favorite chair. Jake had helped him pick it out several months ago, on a trip to Montreal. It was the only time they’d ever gone away together. It had been so good. Too good.

  The scotch seared its way down his throat. This chair was the only piece of furniture in this opulent showplace of a condo that truly made him feel at home. And Jake had been a part of that. In fact Jake had encouraged him to do the one thing he’d never seemed to have the energy to do—to redecorate, or possibly even move. To make a concerted effort to put a painful past with two opportunistic and pretentious ex-wives behind him.

  He had listened too. He’d decided to do it. He’d been that close. He’d literally had his finger poised to dial the realtor when the phone had rung—and everything had changed.

  “Dad?” said a sleepy voice. “When did you get back?”

  Chapter Three

  “Here.” Jake—she’d finally learned his name—held up his prize. He’d gone rooting through his drawers in search of something suitable for her to wear. Apparently over the years a few girlfriends had left behind various items of clothing and he’d thought it prudent to keep them around—for emergencies.

  She eyed the sundress warily. It was pretty enough, boasting a flowing abstract pattern in brilliant purple and turquoise. And although she had never typically gone for such vibrant tones, she had to admit that after years of prison gray and waitress black-and-white she found herself thirsting for color. So the color and the pattern weren’t the problem. She frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jake held it up to her and then said softly, “Oh.” The thing would have hung on her like a sack and might well have left her breasts half exposed. And Sadie didn’t show her breasts off—not to anyone.

  “I can just keep this on,” she reasoned, smoothing a hand down the front of her uniform. “It’s not that bad.” Jake had originally intended to take her shopping for a few things, but when he’d caught her nodding off in the cab and then heard her stomach growling, he had changed his plans. He’d insisted on taking her home for a hot meal followed by a long sleep. Her objections had been halfhearted at best. Good food and a soft bed sounded heavenly.

  And then she’d walked into his condo and decided this was heaven. The apartment was just as warm and inviting as its owner. The color palate reminded her of a fall day in Vermont. Rich chocolates and muted taupes were accented by hits of vibrant green and burnished orange. With its polished maple floors, soft leather and funky retro-style accessories and a faint hint of cinnamon, she’d felt at home instantly. In fact she didn’t think she’d ever want to leave. And then she’d caught a glimpse of the view of the harbor and it had taken her breath away.

  “Nonsense,” argued Jake. “That uniform smells of grease and smoke, and the last thing you want to do is lounge around in the outfit you just spent ten hours working in.”

  “Well, I guess you’re right. But—”

  “How about one of my T-shirts and a pair of drawstring pants? Would that work?”

  She smiled with relief. “Sure. I’d be more comfortable in those than a dress anyway.”

  He opened his T-shirt drawer. “Take your pick.”

  Because the craving for color had lingered, she picked out a Nike shirt in a vibrant red, and a moment later he handed her a pair of pale gray sweatpants. “These will be huge and you’ll have to roll up the cuffs, but at least you can pull the waist in tight.”

  She nodded, fighting tears for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.

  “Would you like to take a shower while I whip up dinner?”

  “Oh. That would be lovely.”

  He led her to his en suite. “Here you go. There’s a shower enclosure, but if you like you can make use of the Jacuzzi tub.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I should. I might fall asleep in it and drown.”

  He clicked his tongue. “Right. Good point.” He handed her a thick, fluffy towel.

  She sighed when the terry cloth touched her hands. She used to own these kinds of linens, used to have closets full of them—full of eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and towels thick enough to sleep on. She had missed that kind of luxury in prison. She had missed so much.

  She pressed it to her cheek just to feel its softness and to remember.

  Jake said, “I’m afraid I don’t have any fancy body washes or anything like that. Just plain old soap and shampoo. Guess I’m not much of a metrosexual after all.”

  She laughed and the sound of her own laughter almost startled her. “That’s fine. I don’t need anything fancy.”

  “You okay with a seafood risotto? I’ve been experimenting with some new dishes and that’s my latest.”

  “It sounds wonderful. I love Italian and I love seafood.” It sounded more than wonderful. It sounded like another piece of heaven.

  “Great.” He backed up to the door. “Okay then. Take your time, and I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.”

  She watched the door close and, out of habit more than mistrust, locked it behind him. Then she sat down on the toilet and allowed herself a good hard cry.

  “How about some chamomile tea, Dad?” Rachel had been fussing in the kitchen ever since skillfully lifting his half-empty lowball from his fingers. He’d remained in his chair, just happy to be in the same room with her and watch her move—his own personal miracle.

  “Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  Every moment with his daughter was still a wonder. Until six months ago he’d never thought he’d have the opportunity to father a child. He thought his time had run out. At forty-five he was too old and far too set in his ways and committed to his business to ever consider that kind of commitment—to a wife, let alone a baby. And it was a commitment, of that he was certain. He’d never had any intention of bringing a child into the world unless he had the energy and the time to put into raising it. He’d grown up in the shadow of a workaholic, success-obsessed father and a mother who split her time between tennis and five-martini lunches. He’d spent the first twenty-five years of his life trying to figure out who the heck he was and how he fit into his own family. He’d spent the next fifteen figuring out that it didn’t matter, that he was his own man and his success or failure had nothing to do with where he came from. All that mattered was where he was going. And other than some really shitty decisions about romance and relationships, he’d ended up in a pretty good place.

  He was happy with what he’d built and who he’d become. And then he’d found Rachel. Or rather she had found him. And suddenly everything he knew about what he wanted and who he was had been called into question. His whole world had been turned upside down.

  He’d had to make some tough choices, some sacrifices. But it was all worth it. Damn it, it had to be.

  “Come on, Dad,” she said with a smile. “The tea’s ready and I made you a sandwich.”

  He crossed to the kitchen, sat down at the counter. “Oh. I thought you were making supper for yourself.”

  “Oh no. I don’t need anything now. The hosts always provide sandwiches and squares for the group.” She smiled and her blue eyes lit up the room. She had her mother’s wavy black hair and long oval face, as well as her ample bosom and hourglass figure. But Rachel had inherited his blue eyes, and every time she looked at him he felt as if he’d rediscovered a piece of his youth—a lost piece of himself.

  He took a bite of the sandwich, cringing only a little at the rather artless fare. Perhaps he was accustomed to Jake’s homemade tomato-basil bisque served with honey-maple ham and Brie sandwiches, but she was only twenty-five and had been raised in a very rural and i
solated environment. Before coming to him she’d never even heard of Brie, let alone dreamed of putting it in a sandwich.

  And he needed to stop thinking about Jake!

  He took another bite of plain ham and cheese on white and washed it down with a swig of tea. “So you’re not going to be at the church tonight then?”

  “No. Tonight is a Bible study at Jim and Elaine’s.” Even as she said it he caught sight of the ubiquitous black tome and spiral notebook all ready to go on the table by the door. She leaned forward, all youth and eagerness. “I wish you’d come, Dad. You’d like Jim and Elaine. And tonight we’re studying First Corinthians. It’s one of my favorites.”

  Her passion for her religion and her faith was as far beyond his experience and understanding as walking on the moon. But although he couldn’t share it, that didn’t mean he couldn’t support it. However, his support had its limits. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I’ve made arrangements to escort a colleague to the opera tonight. He’s visiting from Europe and I don’t get to see him very often.”

  “Oh.” Her expression spoke volumes as to what she thought of this particular brand of theater. “That’s too bad. Maybe next time.”

  He smiled, nodded vaguely and took another bite of sandwich. He’d managed to accompany her to Sunday morning services a few times, and that was going to have to be enough. He’d also begun to develop a suspicion that Rachel had visions of setting him up with Elaine’s single sister. That just could not be allowed to happen. It seemed that lately women in general had lost their appeal, and there couldn’t be any less appealing than a Bible-thumping Anne Coulter wannabe. All Evan wanted was to be with Jake. And that was the one thing he couldn’t have.

  He asked, “So what time is your meeting?”

  “Seven. I should leave soon.”

  “Do you want me to drive you? I still have some time before I have to get ready.”

  “Oh…would you mind? I was afraid I’d have to take the subway.” The subway still frightened her, but if she was going to live in this city she was going to have to get over it eventually.

  But not, it seemed, today. “Sure. But don’t you have to change?”

  She laughed. “Oh Dad. Jeans are fine outside of the church. I don’t wear dresses all the time.”

  This was news to him. In the three months since she’d moved in he’d never seen her attend a church-related function in anything other than conservatively cut skirts and dresses. Even her job at the credit union required button-up blouses and knee-length skirts, and she seemed to be just fine with that.

  He finished his sandwich and she grabbed her purse, and a moment later they were stepping out into the small elevator bay and foyer that Evan’s condo shared with two other penthouse apartments. The elevator door opened and out stepped Evan’s neighbors, Mike and Andrew—holding hands.

  “Hey, you two.” Their smiles were warm and friendly.

  While Andrew fumbled with his key, Mike asked, “So, you catching La Bohème tonight then?”

  He and Rachel stepped onto the elevator but Evan held the door for a moment. “Yeah I am. Thanks for hooking me up with the tickets. The box will be a real treat.”

  “No problem. It’s what I do, after all.” Mike was involved with marketing and PR for the Four Seasons Centre.

  With a wave, Evan allowed the doors to swish closed.

  “Thank the Lord,” said Rachel on a sigh of relief. “It’s so hard to watch them. I don’t know how you stand it.”

  “They’re very nice men and excellent neighbors.”

  “That’s very sweet of you to say, Dad, but they’re an aberration. The way they live is an affront to God.” She hugged her Bible to her chest. “And to me.”

  “Yeah, well.” He was at a loss. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Evan was way past feeling angry, or even hurt. This was who she was. If he wanted her in his life, he was going to have to accept her, because God knew she wouldn’t accept him. He certainly couldn’t change the way her church viewed homosexual activities, and he couldn’t change her. But God help him when Gay Pride hit town in a few weeks.

  The trouble was he doubted God had anything to do with it.

  Jake added another dollop of broth to the pan and continued to stir. That was the thing about risotto—it required constant attention. Much like a relationship, he mused. At least if you wanted it to turn out well.

  The pan of sautéed shrimp and clams sat warming on the back of the stove, ready to be added along with the cheese at the last minute. The salad was mixed and ready for the dressing, and a pair of plates waited patiently on the table by the window. He sipped from his glass of sauvignon blanc and had just set it down on the granite countertop when he heard—or rather smelled her come in.

  Her scent wafted to him moments before the sound of her bare feet padding on his hardwood floor. She no longer smelled of grease and sweat. Now she smelled of spicy soap with a distinct hint of girl.

  He turned around and was pleased to see her smiling and looking charmingly lost in his big T-shirt and sweatpants.

  “See?” He grinned. “They fit perfectly.”

  “I’d hate to see your definition of imperfect.” She smiled. “But thanks. They’re cozy and I feel a thousand times better.”

  Although she still lacked makeup and polish, although her hair hung in damp, unruly waves around her too-thin shoulders, she looked better. More wholesome, somehow. Or perhaps just happier.

  “Good. I’m glad. Now have a seat while I finish this off. It’ll just be five minutes.”

  “It smells wonderful.”

  “You put wine and garlic in something it always smells wonderful. We’ll have to wait for the taste test for the final verdict.”

  “Well, it’s been a long time since I had wine and garlic in anything. So I’m afraid I may not be the most discerning critic.”

  He took a break from his stirring to pour her a glass of wine. She accepted it gratefully and took a sip as he returned to the stove. He had debated endlessly about how to broach this subject, and in the end all of his internal agony did him no good at all. She did the work for him.

  “So, Evan asked you to help me?”

  “Yeah.” The lie tasted vile coming out of his mouth, but he couldn’t very well change his story now. Or could he? “Or actually, to be honest, I offered.”

  “Uh…oh? Really? I mean—why?”

  “Well, Evan wanted to. I could tell he did. He regretted not responding to your letter a year ago—” Lies, lies, lies.

  “So he told you about that.”

  “Yeah. He didn’t tell me much, but he did tell me that.”

  She nodded, looked down at her wineglass.

  “So anyway, he was struggling with it. But he’s in a…bad place right now. He just wasn’t in a position to help.” He shrugged, feeling nominally better about this. Maybe that was the truth, he just wished he had a better understanding of what was going on with his friend. “So I stepped up.”

  She stood. “Jake, I can’t ask this of you. I mean—I don’t know about this. I should go.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He turned off the burner and crossed to her, placed his hands on her shoulders. “I wanted to help. I felt a connection to you from the moment you poured my coffee. Maybe it was meant to be.”

  A faint blush rose to her cheeks and her eyes went wide. “You did? Really?”

  “Yeah. I really did.” And that was the truth. There was a genuineness about her, a vulnerability that drew him in. And when he’d heard her story—or what little of it Evan had shared—he’d felt compelled to learn more. To help in any way he could. Maybe he had a secret “knight in shining armor” complex. Or maybe he was just drawn to helpless women. He couldn’t really say why he felt that way, he just knew he did.

  “I didn’t think anyone would—I mean it’s been so long.” He caught sight of a tear slipping down her cheek.

  “Hey! None of that now.” He brushed it away. “The last
thing I want is to upset you.”

  There was that hesitant smile again. “You haven’t. You’ve made me very happy. But it’s obvious you don’t know the whole story, and you need to. You should know exactly who you’re taking into your home.”

  “Okay. I won’t argue that point. I want to know, but only because I want to know everything about you. But first things first.” He returned to the stove, dumped the shellfish into the mix. “And first we need to fill that concave belly of yours.”

  He was surprised to find her standing at his elbow, eyeing the concoction on the stove. “Is it done?” She sounded as hungry as she looked.

  “Not quite. It just needs some cheese,” he sprinkled in a good dose of Parmesan as well as some Asiago, “and a dollop of butter to make it extra creamy.” He stirred it well, until everything was melted and the rice flowed smoothly over his spoon.

  He scooped up a small sample and blew on it gently. He held it to her mouth. “Now tell me what you think.”

  She accepted the offering with only a little hesitation. Then she closed her eyes, chewed and swallowed. “Oh…my…God. That’s…I don’t have the words.”

  Jake laughed. “The rapture on your face is expressive enough.”

  And then those frail arms were wrapped around his neck and that delicate body was pressed to his. “Thank you, Jake. Thank you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  He hugged her back, and hoped like hell that was the truth.

  Chapter Four

  Evan turned the water on hot—as hot as he could stand—and stepped into the shower. Reaching for the soap, he turned his face to the spray and tried like hell not to remember the last time he and Jake had showered together. He failed miserably.

  Jake’s hands, slick with lather, ran up and down Evan’s chest and abs. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said.