better? ".
He chuckled. "I'm hoping you can reform me."
Erin glanced up at him, very conscious of the intensity lurking beneath his composed surface. She was wary of this new mood of his, and painfully aware of how quickly and easily she'd caved in when he asked her to dinner. She hadn't even been able to pretend she had any pride left. Bewitched, that was it. The man had her bewitched and beguiled, and she wasn't even sure how he'd managed to do it. She didn't respond to his comment, remaining silent as they took the elevator down and walked across the lobby to the most elegant restaurant the hotel boasted.
She could feel the stares as they were conducted to their table, and while that was a familiar sensation, what she sensed in Keith was not. He was, she realized in surprise, focused on her totally. He was completely indifferent to the eyes on them, and there was nothing proprietary or arrogantly possessive in the way he held her arm. Having been regarded by many men as an ornament they displayed proudly in public, Erin had grown to hate entering any crowded room on a man's arm; they always seemed to feel that there was some kind of male triumph in being the escort of a woman other men watched.
She was accustomed to most men acting differently when they were with her in public. The most quiet and unassuming man tended to become more assertive, to sit taller and speak louder, while the ones with natural confidence surrounded her with an air of intimacy as though they were lovers.
But not Keith. He was exactly the same in public as in private, and as maddening as she found him she was very grateful for that evidence of consistency.
"You're smiling," he noted as the waiter left with their drink orders.
She looked him in the eye, and said calmly, "You have your secrets—I have mine."
"Which is as it should be," he said.
Erin decided not to pursue the subject.
"Have you canceled your plans to leave?" he asked, as if he hadn't expected her to reply to the statement.
"Not exactly."
"What does that mean—exactly?"
She sighed. "It means that I have airline reservations for tomorrow afternoon."
He gazed steadily at her, his expression unreadable. "I see. So tonight will determine whether you'll get on the plane."
It didn't sound like a question, but Erin knew it was. She managed a shrug, and hoped she didn't look defensive.
Keith didn't say anything until their waiter had delivered the drinks and left, and when he did speak his voice was very quiet. "I know you're angry, and I can't blame you. I can't even explain why I've been so... contradictory."
"Try," she requested evenly.
He shook his head a little, more, it seemed, at himself than at her. "Erin, my life is very complicated right now. I'm under a lot of pressure, and it's having a negative effect on me. On my emotions, my temper."
"Pressure? From what?" As curious about the careful way he was telling her this as she was about what he was saying, Erin listened intently as she tried to pick up subtle nuances in his deep voice.
"From my work. Work I don't want to talk about. I know it isn't fair to you, and I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be. I'm not a criminal. I'm not doing anything illegal. In another week, two at most, my work here will be finished."
"And then?"
That, Keith thought, was a loaded question. To see the end of what had obsessed him for nearly a year... what would it do to him? How would it change him? Could he ever go back to being the man he had been before all this began? He didn't know. And all he could do was to answer Erin's question in the simplest way possible.
"Then the pressure will be gone. I have a home in New York, a business. A normal life."
Erin gazed at him, trying to understand. "What you're doing here isn't a part of your normal life?"
"No, this is something else. Something I have to do."
"A man of mystery," she murmured.
"Hardly. The point is, I won't be a very good... companion until my work's finished. I
He chuckled. "I'm hoping you can reform me."
Erin glanced up at him, very conscious of the intensity lurking beneath his composed surface. She was wary of this new mood of his, and painfully aware of how quickly and easily she'd caved in when he asked her to dinner. She hadn't even been able to pretend she had any pride left. Bewitched, that was it. The man had her bewitched and beguiled, and she wasn't even sure how he'd managed to do it. She didn't respond to his comment, remaining silent as they took the elevator down and walked across the lobby to the most elegant restaurant the hotel boasted.
She could feel the stares as they were conducted to their table, and while that was a familiar sensation, what she sensed in Keith was not. He was, she realized in surprise, focused on her totally. He was completely indifferent to the eyes on them, and there was nothing proprietary or arrogantly possessive in the way he held her arm. Having been regarded by many men as an ornament they displayed proudly in public, Erin had grown to hate entering any crowded room on a man's arm; they always seemed to feel that there was some kind of male triumph in being the escort of a woman other men watched.
She was accustomed to most men acting differently when they were with her in public. The most quiet and unassuming man tended to become more assertive, to sit taller and speak louder, while the ones with natural confidence surrounded her with an air of intimacy as though they were lovers.
But not Keith. He was exactly the same in public as in private, and as maddening as she found him she was very grateful for that evidence of consistency.
"You're smiling," he noted as the waiter left with their drink orders.
She looked him in the eye, and said calmly, "You have your secrets—I have mine."
"Which is as it should be," he said.
Erin decided not to pursue the subject.
"Have you canceled your plans to leave?" he asked, as if he hadn't expected her to reply to the statement.
"Not exactly."
"What does that mean—exactly?"
She sighed. "It means that I have airline reservations for tomorrow afternoon."
He gazed steadily at her, his expression unreadable. "I see. So tonight will determine whether you'll get on the plane."
It didn't sound like a question, but Erin knew it was. She managed a shrug, and hoped she didn't look defensive.
Keith didn't say anything until their waiter had delivered the drinks and left, and when he did speak his voice was very quiet. "I know you're angry, and I can't blame you. I can't even explain why I've been so... contradictory."
"Try," she requested evenly.
He shook his head a little, more, it seemed, at himself than at her. "Erin, my life is very complicated right now. I'm under a lot of pressure, and it's having a negative effect on me. On my emotions, my temper."
"Pressure? From what?" As curious about the careful way he was telling her this as she was about what he was saying, Erin listened intently as she tried to pick up subtle nuances in his deep voice.
"From my work. Work I don't want to talk about. I know it isn't fair to you, and I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be. I'm not a criminal. I'm not doing anything illegal. In another week, two at most, my work here will be finished."
"And then?"
That, Keith thought, was a loaded question. To see the end of what had obsessed him for nearly a year... what would it do to him? How would it change him? Could he ever go back to being the man he had been before all this began? He didn't know. And all he could do was to answer Erin's question in the simplest way possible.
"Then the pressure will be gone. I have a home in New York, a business. A normal life."
Erin gazed at him, trying to understand. "What you're doing here isn't a part of your normal life?"
"No, this is something else. Something I have to do."
"A man of mystery," she murmured.
"Hardly. The point is, I won't be a very good... companion until my work's finished. I
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