safe as any neighborhood this close to Washington, D.C., but Connor’s job in the FBI made him a cautious man. Cautious and emotionally aloof.
Except on this past Thanksgiving when he’d been chatty and pleasant. But that was for Drake and Skyler’s benefit, Karen assured herself. He hadn’t changed.
He tried talking to you at the wedding too, her conscience pointed out. But you ignored him.
Karen scowled. Why was her heart so quick to defend the man? If he was trying to make amends for so many years of emotional detachment, he was simply too damn late!
Pushing outside into frigid air, she dropped the garbage into the near-empty receptacle and pulled it toward the street. Now that Drake was out of his basement apartment and living in Greece, it was up to Karen to do what any single female had to do. She could handle it. With independence came the ability to find a new mate—this time, one willing to share his inner self.
Someone like Carl, you mean? Her conscience was ruthless tonight. Karen drew a deep breath as she headed for the curb. Carl, her colleague at the Family Therapy Center, had dazzled her with his ability to articulate emotion. Hi s performance in the bedroom , however, had left much to be desired.
You can’t have it all, Karen .
She’d confessed the affair to Connor, hoping it would prompt him to change. Instead, he’d flown into a rage and left her, telling her that she could have the house. Then he’d frozen her out of his life, but neither one of them had pursued an actual divorce. Until this past Thanksgiving , Connor hadn’t even spoken to her . And then there was that dance at Drake’s wedding.
Even then, al l he’d said then was that her dress looked sexy. Big deal. It didn’t mean he wanted to try again with her. So, why was she still pondering that look in his eyes, which was probably just lust , though it looked more like regret ? Whatever it was, it made her think of him every minute of every day since, a fact she thoroughly resented.
Arriving at the curb, Karen swung the trash can around and looked up. Every house on her street twinkled with Christmas lights, except hers. With a sigh, she plodded back to her brick rancher. The sight of her dark windows, not even a tree glowing in the picture window, made her feel dead inside.
I’ve been busy , she reminded herself. She had more clients in her counseling practice this time of year than a forty-hour work week could accommodate, so she put in sixty hours, all the while thinking she was as much a basket case as any of her patients.
Sure, she knew how to move on with her life, she just couldn’t seem to do it.
As she passed under the basketball hoop, her children’s voices echoed in her head. She had never thought she’d miss the sound of Lucy bullying her younger brother, but the tears that filmed her eyes told her otherwise. I wish they were young again .
The light outside the garage door blinked off without warning, and Karen’s stride faltered. With a sigh, she continued toward it. Now, there was something else an independent woman had to do—c hange the light bulbs.
Following the stone walkway by feel, she waded through inky darkness. Hadn’t she left on the light in the garage, as well ? And now it was out, suggesting that a fuse had blown. Wouldn’t that just be her luck!
With a surge of annoyance, she stepped into the garage, shut the door, and locked it. Her gaze slid to the flashing red light on the alarm.
How odd . The alarm still worked. Perhaps the security system was wired differently.
A feather-light breeze tickled her stockinged legs, cutting through her thoughts, and the realization hit her: I’m not alone .
As she whirled to face the dark garage, a man-sized shadow lunged at her , and a hand cla m ped over her mouth, cutting off her startled scream. T hick arm s banded her shoulders and trapped her against his large r frame.
“Quiet, or I’ll cut your throat,” came a gravelly voice
Except on this past Thanksgiving when he’d been chatty and pleasant. But that was for Drake and Skyler’s benefit, Karen assured herself. He hadn’t changed.
He tried talking to you at the wedding too, her conscience pointed out. But you ignored him.
Karen scowled. Why was her heart so quick to defend the man? If he was trying to make amends for so many years of emotional detachment, he was simply too damn late!
Pushing outside into frigid air, she dropped the garbage into the near-empty receptacle and pulled it toward the street. Now that Drake was out of his basement apartment and living in Greece, it was up to Karen to do what any single female had to do. She could handle it. With independence came the ability to find a new mate—this time, one willing to share his inner self.
Someone like Carl, you mean? Her conscience was ruthless tonight. Karen drew a deep breath as she headed for the curb. Carl, her colleague at the Family Therapy Center, had dazzled her with his ability to articulate emotion. Hi s performance in the bedroom , however, had left much to be desired.
You can’t have it all, Karen .
She’d confessed the affair to Connor, hoping it would prompt him to change. Instead, he’d flown into a rage and left her, telling her that she could have the house. Then he’d frozen her out of his life, but neither one of them had pursued an actual divorce. Until this past Thanksgiving , Connor hadn’t even spoken to her . And then there was that dance at Drake’s wedding.
Even then, al l he’d said then was that her dress looked sexy. Big deal. It didn’t mean he wanted to try again with her. So, why was she still pondering that look in his eyes, which was probably just lust , though it looked more like regret ? Whatever it was, it made her think of him every minute of every day since, a fact she thoroughly resented.
Arriving at the curb, Karen swung the trash can around and looked up. Every house on her street twinkled with Christmas lights, except hers. With a sigh, she plodded back to her brick rancher. The sight of her dark windows, not even a tree glowing in the picture window, made her feel dead inside.
I’ve been busy , she reminded herself. She had more clients in her counseling practice this time of year than a forty-hour work week could accommodate, so she put in sixty hours, all the while thinking she was as much a basket case as any of her patients.
Sure, she knew how to move on with her life, she just couldn’t seem to do it.
As she passed under the basketball hoop, her children’s voices echoed in her head. She had never thought she’d miss the sound of Lucy bullying her younger brother, but the tears that filmed her eyes told her otherwise. I wish they were young again .
The light outside the garage door blinked off without warning, and Karen’s stride faltered. With a sigh, she continued toward it. Now, there was something else an independent woman had to do—c hange the light bulbs.
Following the stone walkway by feel, she waded through inky darkness. Hadn’t she left on the light in the garage, as well ? And now it was out, suggesting that a fuse had blown. Wouldn’t that just be her luck!
With a surge of annoyance, she stepped into the garage, shut the door, and locked it. Her gaze slid to the flashing red light on the alarm.
How odd . The alarm still worked. Perhaps the security system was wired differently.
A feather-light breeze tickled her stockinged legs, cutting through her thoughts, and the realization hit her: I’m not alone .
As she whirled to face the dark garage, a man-sized shadow lunged at her , and a hand cla m ped over her mouth, cutting off her startled scream. T hick arm s banded her shoulders and trapped her against his large r frame.
“Quiet, or I’ll cut your throat,” came a gravelly voice
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