even lower and huskier than usual. She swiped at her eyes, but the tears kept coming.
Nick’s arm was still around her; he pulled her a little closer, as if he could protect her from her hurt with his body. She wasn’t exactly pliant in his arms, but he could feel both the strength of her body and the soft pressure of her breast against his side.
‘I’m sorry you lost your great-aunt,’ he said.
‘Why’d she leave her money to me?’ She turned her head to look him in the face.
‘Who else was she going to leave it to? You said she wasn’t close to the rest of your family.’
‘But why me? I barely knew her, too. She never even told me what she did for a living.’ She wiped her eyes again, smearing moisture over her cheeks and clumping her eyelashes. It wasn’t a delicate gesture, but it was a vulnerable one.
‘It doesn’t sound like she’d told anybody.’
‘It’s a lot of money, Nick. Really a lot. Why me?’
Nick tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear. Her hair was silky and nearly as warm as her skin. ‘Because she trusted you.’
‘But why? ’ It came out as a wail, and Zoe bent her body to hide her face between her drawn-up knees. Her shoulders shook.
Nick stroked her back as she cried. She was wearing her horrible big leather jacket again but he could feel the shape of her back and shoulders through it. He remembered the sight of her next to her three sisters and her mother; all of the other female Drakes had been petite and narrow-shouldered. Zoe, with her straight posture and her determined stance, had seemed sturdy and more real. But under his hand now she felt fragile and feminine, maybe because she was crying.
He remembered how she’d stared at him this morning when he’d told her he trusted her not to lock him out of the house while he got breakfast. It was if he’d told her he had scientific evidence that the moon was made out of Alka-Seltzer. He was a relative stranger; he could understand why she’d be suspicious of his motives. It was harder to understand why she wouldn’t accept that her great-aunt had faith in her.
Then again, he remembered how Zoe’s mother had made the comment about her skirt, as if she were surprised that Zoe had made any effort with her clothing at all.
Maybe it wasn’t so hard to figure out why Zoe didn’t believe her relatives would trust her.
Her hair was tousled on the back of her head. He ran his fingers through it to straighten it, and again was surprised by how silky it was. In the sun shining through the leaves it was golden. He twisted a strand of it around his finger, interested in how it reflected the light and caressed his skin.
‘Sometimes we just trust people,’ he said to her, though he wasn’t sure she was listening. ‘Your great-aunt must have thought you were the person who deserved what she had. From the way you defended her personal things from me this morning, I’d say she was right.’
Zoe drew in a sharp breath and straightened, pulling away from him. She shook her head and rubbed her hands hard over her face.
‘I don’t believe I’m crying in front of you,’ she said, her voice full of disgust.
‘It’s okay. I’m good with crying women. My sister used to spend a lot of time crying when we were growing up.’
Her face flushed and her eyes flashed, and Nick saw that she’d gone in a moment from sorrow to embarrassment to anger.
‘Oh, well, aren’t I lucky, to be in the presence of the expert in crying women.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘What did you mean, then? You’re glad to have the opportunity to show what a nice guy you are by comforting the poor little heiress when she’s upset about her auntie leaving her fifty million dollars? What are you going to do next, offer to buy me an ice cream with a cherry on top?’
‘Zoe, be reasonable. You’re upset. I was talking to you. That’s all.’
She jumped to her feet. ‘So now you’re a nice, reasonable guy. Gee, your life must be
Clara Moore
Lucy Francis
Becky McGraw
Rick Bragg
Angus Watson
Charlotte Wood
Theodora Taylor
Megan Mitcham
Bernice Gottlieb
Edward Humes