“That’s okay,” Dani said.

“Did you spill?” he asked.

She liked that he visually inspected her coat instead of taking the chance to touch her.

“No. You look good.” Instantly he took another step back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Not that you don’t look good. You do. But I wasn’t trying to compliment you. Not that I wouldn’t want to, it’s just…”

He stood there looking so uncomfortable, she momentarily forgot her rule of never again speaking to an unrelated man under the age of seventy-five.

“It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “I totally know what you were trying to say. My coat looks untouched by any form of coffee.”

Relief darkened his pale gray eyes. “Exactly. I didn’t spill.”

“Good.” Impulsively she held out her hand. “I’m Dani.”

“Gary.”

They shook hands and she felt nothing. Not a spark, not a hint of a spark. There was an absolute lack of sparkage. Thank God.

“It’s crazy in here,” she said. “I’d try to avoid the rush, but I don’t know when that is.”

“Me, either.” A couple moved toward them and Gary took a step toward her. “I’m here several times a week for my cup of courage.”

She stepped into a less crowded corner. “You get courage from coffee?”

“From the caffeine. I teach nearby and my afternoon students are surly. This keeps me on my toes.” He raised his cup as he spoke.

He was the kind of man easily overlooked and forgotten, Dani thought. Light brown hair, pale eyes, pale skin. Slender. Nicely dressed, but not flashy. He seemed sincere rather than charming, intelligent rather than physical. All good things.

“What do you teach?” she asked.

“Theology and math at the community college. Most of my students are taking theology to fulfill a requirement, and everyone knows people hate math. I should try to find a fun subject that everyone would like.”

“Is there one?”

“What did you like in college?” he asked.

“Not math,” she said, then smiled. “You probably hear that a lot.”

“I can handle it.”

“I took a lot of classes in restaurant management. That’s what I do now—work in a restaurant. I’ve been an assistant to a chef for a while. I used to manage a place in Renton. Burger Heaven.”

He nodded. “I’ve been there. Great milkshakes. Do you like being an assistant to the chef?”

“I love working for Penny, but it’s time for me to make a change. That’s what I was thinking about when we bumped into each other. That I need to take the risk and go for it. But I’m nervous. What if I fail? What if I succeed? I can’t…”

She stopped talking and stared at him. “I can’t believe I’m just blurting this all out.”

“I appreciate you talking to me, Dani. I’m happy to listen.”

There was something about the way he said it—as if he really meant it.

“But I don’t know you.”

“Sometimes we recognize a kinship in another person,” he said.

If any other guy had tried a line like that on her, she would have hit him in the stomach. But the way Gary spoke the words made her think he really meant them.

“Still, I don’t usually dump stuff on strangers,” she muttered.

“I’m glad I was your exception.” He glanced at his watch. “But I have forty-five bored students waiting to hear about comparative theology through the ages. I have to go.”

He sounded as if he regretted the fact. She kind of did, too.

“Thanks for listening. I appreciate your time,” she said.

“I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me, too.”

They stared at each other for a second, and then he was gone. Dani walked out the other door and headed for her car.

That was good, she thought. Meeting Gary had reminded her that all men weren’t lying, cheating, smarmy weasels. There were still some nice guys around.

REID FLIPPED through the fan letters in front of him. Some were typed and sounded more like they were from forty-year-old truck drivers than actual kids, but a few really got to him.

He kept returning to the one from Frankie. A kid dying from some form of cancer Reid couldn’t begin to pronounce. The kid who had asked to meet Reid as his last wish.

“Damn it all to hell,” Reid muttered and picked up Gloria’s phone. He punched in the number the kid had written on his letter and leaned back in his chair.

A woman answered. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is…” Reid hesitated. The letter was three months old. Maybe he should wait to say who he was. “Is Frankie there?”

“Oh, God.”

The woman’s voice came out in a sob. Reid stiffened as he heard what sounded like crying.

“Ah, ma’am?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” More crying. “He’s gone. It’s been two weeks. Frankie died. I knew it was going to happen. It was inevitable. We all knew it. So I expected to be sad, you know? But why am I shocked? Why do I keep expecting to see him? To hear him? He was just a little boy. So little and now he’s all alone.”

Reid felt as if he’d taken a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball to the gut. The air rushed out of his lungs and he couldn’t speak. Probably a good thing, because what was he supposed to say? That Frankie was in heaven and hanging out with the angels? Who believed that after losing a kid?

“I’m sorry,” he managed at last. “I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you.” The woman cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to go off like that. I just can’t seem to get it together.” She drew in a breath. “I didn’t get your name. Why are you calling?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Reid said. “I won’t bother you again.”

He hung up the phone and let the letter fall to the ground.

Two weeks. Two f**king weeks. If he’d bothered to read his fan mail even two weeks ago, he could have been there. Could have gone to see the kid.

Not that his showing up would have made any difference, but at least the kid wouldn’t have thought his last wish didn’t matter.

He picked up another letter from a pissed kid, basically telling him off for not bothering to show at some benefit. There were dozens more like it.

Reid closed his eyes and did his best to forget. He wasn’t a bad man. Sure he had his flaws, but he worked hard at his job and he didn’t deliberately hurt anyone. At least that’s what he used to tell himself. Now he had no real job—the sports bar didn’t count—and it turns out he’d hurt a lot of people.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and saw it was Seth—his so-called manager.

“What?” he said by way of greeting.

“Turn on CNN. And brace yourself.”

Reid grabbed the remote and flipped to the appropriate channel. There were two former centerfold twins being interviewed.

“So this is a self-help book?” the reporter asked, barely able to keep from staring at their matching DDD boobs.

“Uh-huh,” one of the blond twins said, her voice high and lispy. The sound made Reid cringe. It also made him remember a couple of nights in Cincinnati, a king-size bed and a whole lot of room service.

“We’ve been in a lot of relationships,” the blonde continued.

“We’ve had a lot of men,” the other one said with a giggle.

“Right.” The first one smiled at the camera. “So we decided to share our experiences with other women. You know, the ones who aren’t as pretty and sexy, who don’t get out as much as we do.”

“There are things they can do,” her sister said earnestly. “Ways to be more sexy. Not just in how they dress, but in what they say and how they act.”

This fabulous offer to American women everywhere came from big-haired twins wearing matching halter tops and hot pants.

“You also talk about some of the men you’ve been with,” the reporter said.

Both sisters giggled. “Uh-huh,” the one on the left said. “We know it’s bad to kiss and tell, but we couldn’t help ourselves.”

Reid got a cold feeling deep in his gut.

“One name popped out at me,” the reporter said. “Reid Buchanan’s been in the news lately.”

Reid groaned.

The twins looked at each other and sighed.

“We didn’t want to say anything in our book,” the first one said. “That would be tacky. But honestly, it wasn’t that great. I mean most guys have trouble with two women, so we expect that. Sure, it’s their fantasy, but when faced with the reality of us na**d, it can be a little much.”

“It wasn’t too much,” Reid yelled at the television. “It was fine. It was better than fine. I did great.”

“The earth didn’t move,” the second one said in a low voice. “It happens.”

The reporter leaned forward. “Was it a size issue?”

Reid turned off the TV and sprang to his feet. He paced the length of the room and swore. He didn’t need this in his life. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t that horrible a person, was he? He should get a break.

Only no one seemed willing to give him one.

He continued to pace back and forth, but the room was too small. He had an excess of energy and no way to burn it off. He had to get out of here, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.

He headed downstairs for the one person guaranteed to distract him.

Talk about idiotic, he thought as he walked into the kitchen. Lori had made it very clear what she thought of him. Did he need to be beat up more?

Except as definitive as she’d been about not wanting him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he got to her. If he did, she would hate that. Which, in a twisted way, made him happy. At least annoying her was interesting.

But she wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. He headed for Gloria’s temporary bedroom.

“Where’s Lori?” he asked when he saw the nurse wasn’t there. “She’s not avoiding me, is she?”

His grandmother slipped off her glasses, put down her book and stared at him. “Amazingly enough, the whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Reid. Lori’s sister is sick and Lori took her to the doctor. She’ll be back in an hour or so. Can you survive on your own until then, or should I call 9-1-1 for emergency assistance?”

CHAPTER FIVE

LORI ARRIVED back at Gloria’s house shortly before two in the afternoon. She walked inside only to find Reid waiting for her.

Her first thought was to turn around and hide in her car. She felt self-conscious about both their last conversation where she’d claimed she didn’t want him—a big fat lie if ever there was one—and the fact that she wasn’t wearing scrubs. Jeans and a sweater might be totally casual, but there was also the chance that he might interpret them as a pitiful attempt to attract him.

Or not, she thought honestly. Chances were Reid never thought of her at all. He was too busy posing for porn.

She briefly closed her eyes. No. That wasn’t fair. Her stupid crush wasn’t his fault. Maybe she should rethink the whole self-help book issue. It was more than obvious she needed something to get her back to her normal self. Her last trip to Seattle Chocolate, while delicious, hadn’t totally cured her.

“You were gone,” Reid said as she tucked her purse on an empty shelf in the massive and mostly unused pantry.

“Yes, I was and now I’m back.”

She straightened and stared at him. Why did he have to look so good? Why couldn’t he be ugly or even normal-looking? Why did his eyes make her want to get lost in whatever he was saying and why did his mouth make her long for some sexual acts that might still be illegal in the more conservative red states?

She tried to push past him. When he didn’t move, she said, “I have to check on Gloria.”

“I just did. She’s asleep. I want to talk to you.”

Panic seized her. This was not a conversation she wanted to have.

“I’m busy. Let’s reschedule.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Busy doing what?”

“Stuff. Important stuff.” She groaned silently. Talk about pathetically lame.

She couldn’t handle him today. Not when she was still fighting the embarrassment of their last encounter and she was feeling emotionally vulnerable because of what was going on with Madeline.

Just thinking about her sister drained the last of the fight out of her. Her shoulders slumped and she stared at Reid.

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“You can’t just give in like that,” he said. “It’s not right.”

“You’re complaining because I let you win? You might want to rethink your priorities.”

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “What is it?”

She turned away. “Nothing.”

“I know enough about women to know that really means there’s something but I’m going to have to work to get at it.” He grabbed her arm. “Tell me.”

She didn’t plan to tell him anything. That was the hell of her situation. There was no one to talk to. Certainly not Madeline, who had enough to deal with herself, and not their mother who was a pretty useless kind of person.

She hated that she was tempted. Even more she hated that despite everything, she was hyper-aware of his fingers on her arm. Even through her sweater, she felt heat and need and a whole list of other desires that would go seriously unfulfilled.