tears fascinated Paul. Always had.
Heâd discovered a long time ago that he was good at design. Good at finding new and better ways to do things. He held the copyright on several programs, everything from games to radar-tracking software.
But for the first time in his life, the work wasnât holding his interest. Not even his latest baby, the program he was developing for the government to help them track satellite movements with more accuracy. Ordinarily, heâd be hip-deep in facts and figures and projections.
But right now, he couldnât care less.
Bracing both hands on the wide windowsill, Paul stared out at the parklike view stretching out below him. But he barely saw the cypress trees, the oaks, or the rolling greenbelt, the function of which was to disguise the fact that the office building was in an industrial park. The pastoral view was supposed to ease stress, to make the surroundings more conducive to creativity.
But it couldnât help when the man staring at it wasnât seeing the greenery here, but was instead staring at a spot more than fifteen miles away. In his mindâs eye, he saw a tiny shop squatting on the Main Street of Chandler.
His fingers curled tight around the painted sill and squeezed the wood as if he were trying to snap it in two. Ever since he had made the decision to get Stevie out of his mind and life, sheâd been in it deeper than ever.
Hell, sheâd even invaded his sanctuaryâthe office.
He
had
to get over her. There was no happily ever after here. She was his twin brotherâs ex-girlfriend. And despite the fact that Stevie and Nick hadnât beentogether in more than two years, Paul knew there was a bond there. Something strong and sweet. Something heâd never be able to touch. And he was pretty sure Stevie was still half in love with Nick. That kind of feeling didnât just disappear. It went into a coma, maybe. But one of these days, Paulâs dick-head brother would come to his senses, realize what a beautiful, sexy, smart woman Stevie was, and want her backâsheâd go running.
She always had before. Why wouldnât she this time, too? And there Paul would be ⦠left holding what was left of his heart.
âNo thanks,â he muttered, and pushed the dark image from his mind. Besides ⦠not even counting the Nick connection, Stevie was practically a member of his family. There were rules about this kind of thing, and damn it, Paul followed the rules. Without rules, there was chaos. And he wasnât about to invite chaos into his familyâor his life.
But it was only temporary, he told himself. It had to be. He could get over her. Shouldnât be any more difficult than learning how to live without breathing.
When his phone rang, he practically lunged for itâeager for a chance to get out of his own thoughts. Dropping into the chair behind his desk, he said, âHello?â
âWell, hi.⦠â
He smiled. Only one woman in the world could put that many syllables into the word
hi
. âHi yourself, Anna.â
âIâm touched. You recognized my voice.â
Hard not to, he thought. Up until a few months ago, heâd spent most of his spare time listening to that soft,incredibly sexy South Carolina drawl. A writer, Anna James was beautiful, intelligent, and the latest darling of the entertainment media. Hollywood was filming her newest book and she was being splashed across the pages of
People
and
Us
magazines.
âAnna,â he said, smiling, âhow could any living, breathing male forget you?â
âHmm ⦠if thatâs true, why is it youâre up there working while Iâm in Hollywood pining away for you?â
âPining?â Oh, he doubted that. A tall, sleek redhead with a body built for sin and a mind that could think circles around most people, Anna wasnât a woman to be ignored.
There was a long pause. âNot going to buy
Heâd discovered a long time ago that he was good at design. Good at finding new and better ways to do things. He held the copyright on several programs, everything from games to radar-tracking software.
But for the first time in his life, the work wasnât holding his interest. Not even his latest baby, the program he was developing for the government to help them track satellite movements with more accuracy. Ordinarily, heâd be hip-deep in facts and figures and projections.
But right now, he couldnât care less.
Bracing both hands on the wide windowsill, Paul stared out at the parklike view stretching out below him. But he barely saw the cypress trees, the oaks, or the rolling greenbelt, the function of which was to disguise the fact that the office building was in an industrial park. The pastoral view was supposed to ease stress, to make the surroundings more conducive to creativity.
But it couldnât help when the man staring at it wasnât seeing the greenery here, but was instead staring at a spot more than fifteen miles away. In his mindâs eye, he saw a tiny shop squatting on the Main Street of Chandler.
His fingers curled tight around the painted sill and squeezed the wood as if he were trying to snap it in two. Ever since he had made the decision to get Stevie out of his mind and life, sheâd been in it deeper than ever.
Hell, sheâd even invaded his sanctuaryâthe office.
He
had
to get over her. There was no happily ever after here. She was his twin brotherâs ex-girlfriend. And despite the fact that Stevie and Nick hadnât beentogether in more than two years, Paul knew there was a bond there. Something strong and sweet. Something heâd never be able to touch. And he was pretty sure Stevie was still half in love with Nick. That kind of feeling didnât just disappear. It went into a coma, maybe. But one of these days, Paulâs dick-head brother would come to his senses, realize what a beautiful, sexy, smart woman Stevie was, and want her backâsheâd go running.
She always had before. Why wouldnât she this time, too? And there Paul would be ⦠left holding what was left of his heart.
âNo thanks,â he muttered, and pushed the dark image from his mind. Besides ⦠not even counting the Nick connection, Stevie was practically a member of his family. There were rules about this kind of thing, and damn it, Paul followed the rules. Without rules, there was chaos. And he wasnât about to invite chaos into his familyâor his life.
But it was only temporary, he told himself. It had to be. He could get over her. Shouldnât be any more difficult than learning how to live without breathing.
When his phone rang, he practically lunged for itâeager for a chance to get out of his own thoughts. Dropping into the chair behind his desk, he said, âHello?â
âWell, hi.⦠â
He smiled. Only one woman in the world could put that many syllables into the word
hi
. âHi yourself, Anna.â
âIâm touched. You recognized my voice.â
Hard not to, he thought. Up until a few months ago, heâd spent most of his spare time listening to that soft,incredibly sexy South Carolina drawl. A writer, Anna James was beautiful, intelligent, and the latest darling of the entertainment media. Hollywood was filming her newest book and she was being splashed across the pages of
People
and
Us
magazines.
âAnna,â he said, smiling, âhow could any living, breathing male forget you?â
âHmm ⦠if thatâs true, why is it youâre up there working while Iâm in Hollywood pining away for you?â
âPining?â Oh, he doubted that. A tall, sleek redhead with a body built for sin and a mind that could think circles around most people, Anna wasnât a woman to be ignored.
There was a long pause. âNot going to buy
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