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  “How is he?” he asked her.

  “He’s going to be okay. They’re only going to keep him overnight. They’re moving him to a hospital room now. They told us to wait a little bit before going up, while they get him admitted and situated. There was no major damage done to the heart. He’s going to have to get more exercise, take medication, make some major changes to his diet, but he should be good as new before long.”

  “I suppose the last was aimed at me.”

  Eleanor blinked at the sound of her mother speaking behind her. She hadn’t realized she’d followed her.

  “I wasn’t aiming anything at you,” Eleanor said wearily, turning. “I was just repeating what the doctors told us and what you already knew. Trey, this is my mother, Catherine Briggs. Mom, meet Trey Riordan.”

  Trey tossed down the magazine and extended his hand toward her mother. Instead of shaking it, her mom accepted his hand and just held it. Eleanor mentally rolled her eyes at the typical Catherine the Great regal gesture.

  “I’m sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances,” Trey said. “But I’m glad to hear your husband is going to be okay.”

  Catherine smiled, her gaze running down the considerable length of Trey’s person in a sharp assessment.

  “Trey was nice enough to drive me here,” Eleanor said, sensing the questions brewing behind her mother’s polite but inquiring expression. There hadn’t been any opportunity to tell her mom about Trey. “We were out together when you texted me earlier.”

  “How wonderful. I hadn’t realized you were seeing someone special, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor felt heat flood her cheeks.

  “My father had something similar happen to him two years ago,” Trey said to her mom. “I know what a shock it was for me when I heard. I didn’t think Eleanor should be driving unless it was completely necessary.”

  “How kind of you,” her mom said approvingly, finally releasing Trey’s hand.

  “He did? Your father, I mean?” Eleanor asked Trey, concerned. “How is he doing now?”

  “He’s doing fine. He complains nonstop about his low-fat, low-cholesterol diet, but he hasn’t been as fit as he is today since I was a kid.”

  “Everyone focuses on diet and exercises in these cases almost exclusively,” her mom told Trey, her manner confidential, as if Eleanor weren’t even standing there. “What they don’t dwell on in the ER is the psychological aspect of things. Eleanor’s father has always been healthy as an ox. We lost Eleanor’s sister this year. I’m sure Eleanor has mentioned it. David has taken it very hard. We all have, of course. But grief,” her mother said with a shrewd glance at Trey, “is likely the main culprit here, not my beef pirog. Mark my words. David’s heart was broken when we lost Eleanor’s sister, Caddy.”

  “Mom,” Eleanor muttered, mortified. A roar had started up in her ears. She noticed Trey’s sideways glance at her. What was he thinking? Suddenly, it all seemed unbearable, having Trey exposed to her mother’s irrepressible smugness . . . her family’s vulnerability.

  Hers.

  “I saw a sign for a cafeteria. Could anyone use a cup of coffee?” Trey asked, putting his hand on Eleanor’s back. She glanced up at him, startled by his calm suggestion. At his supportive touch. As her mother replied enthusiastically to the affirmative, Eleanor searched his expression.

  She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve it, but something in Trey’s warm, steady gaze said it was true.

  On this difficult, anxiety-ridden night, he was going to stand by her.

  —

  It was past one in the morning when Trey pulled his car into a spot in his parking garage and turned off the ignition. Eleanor just sat there in the passenger seat, feeling wrung out by the events of the night, yet strangely alert too. Despite her exhaustion, she’d been hyperaware of her close proximity to Trey on the drive back into the city. Tonight had begun to teach her a lesson.

  Trey Riordan was indeed her fantasy man. He just wasn’t the fantasy she’d pegged him as being. Or at least he wasn’t solely that. He was so much more.

  She’d been humbled by his attentiveness and kindness, not only to herself, but to her mother. They’d made sure that her father was settled in his new hospital room. Just before midnight, her aunt Joan had arrived. Joan said she’d be staying at the house in Evanston with her mother, a detail that had relieved Eleanor hugely.

  When it became clear that her dad would sleep through the night, Eleanor agreed to leave. She promised her mom to return to the hospital early in the morning. Only then had Trey driven her home, despite the fact that Eleanor had assured him he could go at least a dozen times during the interminable night.

  Presently, he put his hands on the wheel and looked over at her, his expression solemn.

  “You look exhausted,” he said.

  “I am. Also wired, strangely enough.”

  “It’s the adrenaline. It does weird things to you.”

  A wave of emotion went through her, somehow brought on by his low, intimate tone in the close confines of the car. She swallowed it back thickly.

  “I like your mom. She’s a riot. I see why you guys call her Catherine the Great.”

  “I love her like crazy, but there’s no denying she’s a handful,” Eleanor laughed wearily.

  “The very definition of family. They know our buttons, and are experts at pushing them.”

  “She liked you too. Adored you, in fact. I’m sorry if she embarrassed you, with some of the assumptions she was making about us,” she said, wincing slightly in memory at some of those assumptions, like how she’d proudly introduced Trey to her aunt Joan as Eleanor’s boyfriend. At the time, Eleanor had suppressed a wicked urge to blurt out that she and Trey were just screwing each other.

  “I wasn’t embarrassed once.”

  She blinked at his firm tone. Slowly, she unfastened her seatbelt, finding it difficult to meet his stare in that moment. An uncomfortable pressure had started to expand in her chest. “It helped a lot, having you there. You were very sweet, to act as a buffer. We usually cover for each other in handling my mom, but with Dad out of commission, and—” She stopped herself abruptly and stared at her entwined fingers resting on her thighs.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your sister?”

  His quiet question seemed to hang in the air between them, replaying again and again in her head. It’d seemed to hover between them at the hospital too. He hadn’t had a chance to ask her about it all night, with either her mom or Joan being near them.

  Not until now, anyway.

  She swallowed thickly and inhaled for courage. She turned to him and met his stare.

  “I haven’t told you a lot of things about me. It didn’t seem to be a requirement before, given what we’d decided our relationship would be.”

  For a moment, he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. What was he thinking? She experienced a wild urge to take what she’d said back, but then he was twisting the keys out of the ignition, unbuckling his belt and pushing open his door. She rushed to get out of the car and follow him.

  “Trey, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay,” he said shortly, reaching behind him as he walked in order to activate the automatic lock on his car. “You’re not saying anything shocking. We agreed from the beginning this wasn’t going to be serious.”

  “But—” She frowned, realizing she was trying to hold a conversation with his back. She rushed to keep up with his long-legged stride. He opened a door and she caught it. She hurried after him down a flight of stairs. By the time they entered the luxurious lobby of his building, she was out of breath. He punched the button for the elevator and she circled around him in mounting frustration. She stepped into him, demanding he look at her. “Then why are you acting mad at me?” she asked in a subdued tone.

  “I’m not mad at you.”

 
She raised her eyebrows incredulously.

  “I’m mad at myself. And maybe you too, a little,” he admitted under his breath, glancing aside at the doorman’s station and frowning fiercely. Ralph sat there, pretending he wasn’t listening in on their exchange. “But I shouldn’t be.”

  “You shouldn’t?” she whispered, bewildered.

  His mouth grew hard. “I’m the one who suggested we should keep this light. I’ve got no right to get pissed at you for reminding me of that. You were never obligated to spill your life story to me.”

  She took a step back from him, stung.

  “I see,” she managed, struggling to steady herself. “Well, thank you again for everything tonight. It was above and beyond what the role required. Obviously,” she added bitterly. She started toward the lobby front doors, but he halted her firmly with a hand on her upper arm. He looked fierce.

  “Come upstairs with me.”

  Her mouth parted in disbelieving confusion. She couldn’t understand his mood.

  “Just to rest. That’s all,” he added tersely. “You look exhausted.”

  “But that’s—”

  “Not part of the agreement. I get it, Eleanor,” he bit out, his jaw tense. “Come anyway.”

  She stared at him in openmouthed shock. The elevator door dinged open. For a moment, she just stood there, dazed, well aware she stood on the threshold of some indefinable zone between safety and danger when it came to her heart. But then he held out his hand, and she reached for it without thought, drawn by his eyes. His determination. His heat.

  The undeniable fact that she’d fallen in love with him.

  Still, she was wary.

  “I don’t want to talk about anything serious tonight, Trey,” she said shakily. She couldn’t stand the thought of having to explain why she’d purposefully never opened up much in front of him . . . why she’d never told him about Caddy. She felt too raw on that topic. Too exposed.

  “I realize you don’t need anything heavy laid on you right now. What you need is some rest. It’s only a few hours until you have to get up and go to the hospital again. But I want you with me, Eleanor. I want to make sure you’re okay. And I don’t give a damn if it breaks any of the rules of our agreement,” he stated fiercely. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. His hand closed tighter around hers and she followed him onto the elevator.

  —

  When they got up to his place, he asked her if she’d like anything from the kitchen. She told him ice water. While he was preparing their drinks, she wandered into his large living room. There were several boxes stacked near the windows that she hadn’t seen on her last visit there.

  Leaving the lights off, she stood and looked out at the cars zooming down Lake Shore Drive and the black expanse of the great lake on the horizon. She tried to make her mind go as blank as the lake appeared in the darkness, but it didn’t work. As exhausted as she was, she was still very aware of Trey’s movements in the kitchen behind her. Something had changed tonight.

  Something huge.

  She was no cynical player. She never had been. But the fact of the matter was, she’d been okay with their agreement to make their relationship about mutually gratifying sex. The arrangement had felt both incredibly exciting, yet somehow predictable too. She’d felt in control, at least some of the time. But now she’d fallen for him.

  And suddenly, instead of being in control, she felt like she was free-falling, already cringing in anticipated pain from the harsh ending.

  The back of her neck prickled when she heard him approaching. She watched his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, absorbing the outline of his hard male beauty. He’d removed his tie and suit coat and rolled back the sleeves of his dress shirt. She wondered yet again if she could ever get tired of looking at him.

  He came to a stop beside her and she glanced sideways. She smiled.

  “What’s this?”

  “An ice water for you and a hot chocolate for me.”

  “It smells good,” she murmured, turning to him, referring to the steaming beverage he held in his left hand.

  “Then take it. I actually made it for you. I’ll take the ice water.”

  She glanced at him in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “I know how much you like hot chocolate. I thought it would help you relax a little. Come and sit down,” he said, nodding toward a couch.

  She took a sip of the sweet chocolate a moment later and sighed wearily. Their arms, hips and thighs pressed close where they sat side by side on the couch. The feeling of his solid body against hers felt indescribably good in her dazed, numb state. They remained silent for a moment, Eleanor sipping the cocoa and glancing around the beautiful room. She spied some framed photos in the distance on the bookcase. She’d never studied them up close before.

  “Are those family pictures?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah,” he said, following her gaze.

  “You told me your brother was a pilot. What does your sister do?” she wondered, taking comfort from the sound of his voice.

  “Kacy is the vice president of human resources for a watch factory. She’s your basic dynamo—she works full-time, has my nephew, Jason, to take care of, plus she volunteers for a ton of projects. My brother and I have always been lazy in comparison to her.”

  “Right. You and your brother sound like real slackers,” she murmured sarcastically.

  “You know how it is with siblings.”

  “Sibling rivalries, you mean?”

  He shrugged. “I’m third born and the youngest. Sometimes I think I had it easy compared to Kacy and Kevin. They were always competing for the spotlight.”

  She chuckled softly as she took another sip of cocoa.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Trey. I just got it.” She rested her head on the back of the couch and turned her chin to look at him. “Your name. You’re third born.”

  His low laugh struck her exhausted consciousness as wonderful. For some reason, it made her feel like she was sinking into the couch. Into him. Her eyelids felt very heavy.

  “My mom has a sense of humor,” he said.

  “And your dad?”

  “My dad likes to play cards. Three is his lucky number.”

  She snorted with tired laughter. The moment struck her as very sweet and fragile for some reason.

  “What are all the boxes for?” she asked a moment later, nodding at the boxes stacked by the window.

  “Christmas tree and decorations. My maid got them out this morning. She’s going to start putting them up tomorrow.”

  She blinked to ease the sudden sting in her eyes. “You don’t do it yourself?”

  “It’s not all that much fun alone,” he said gruffly, taking a sip of his water.

  “Yeah,” she agreed, her throat tightening. “Do you usually put it there? In the window facing Lake Shore Drive?”

  “Yeah.”

  She wiggled on the couch, starting to draw up her feet before she realized she still wore her shoes. She slouched back into the couch, too tired to remove them. Trey noticed. He set down his water on the coffee table and matter-of-factly bent to flip off one shoe.

  “I’m not going to put up my tree this year,” she said through rubbery lips.

  “How come?”

  “My sister and I used to get together to decorate our condos. It was a tradition.”

  Trey went still in the process of pulling off her second shoe. Through her haze of fatigue, she recognized she’d startled him. She’d surprised herself, by bringing up Caddy when she’d thought she wanted to avoid the topic at all costs. The mention of his Christmas tree had ripped the bandage off the wound.

  “We’d do it on the first weekend after Thanksgiving. Drink hot chocolate. Listen to Christmas music. Put up our trees,” she continued hoar
sely. “I just don’t think I can do it alone.” She blinked heavy eyelids and focused on his face. “There,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “I’ve talked about Caddy in front of you.”

  “You loved her so much.”

  Unwanted tears swelled in her eyes at his simple declaration. He’d read the truth on her face. She hated it, but her defenses felt threadbare at that moment. Suddenly, his arms surrounded her and his mouth was pressed against her temple. A shudder of emotion went through her.

  “Shhh,” he said, his lips brushing her ear. “I’ve got you.”

  If he’d uttered some platitude, like, “Everything is going to be okay,” she probably would have been able to keep herself together. It was his holding her so securely and saying those three words that made her lose it.

  She shook. She wept without constraint, in a way she hadn’t since Caddy had passed. He didn’t speak, but his actions said so much. He just held her while she cried out her sadness and her fear, her grief and her loss. At some point, he broke their hold only to take her hot chocolate from her and place it on the table next to his water. She’d forgotten she’d been holding it. Wordlessly, he snagged a box of tissues from the table at the end of the couch, plucked out several, and handed them to her. Mortifyingly, the tears kept coming. He didn’t seem to mind. He just took her back into his arms and held her fast.

  In the following fifteen minutes, she managed to use up most of the Kleenex box.

  Finally, she just sagged against him, utterly spent. She blew her nose loudly. He plucked up all the discarded tissues in her lap and held out his hand expectantly when she’d finished blowing her nose. She grimaced, staring down at the damp, crumpled Kleenex in her hand.

  “No, it’s too gross,” she muttered hoarsely.

  “No. It’s not.”

  She felt his lean body start against her. Startled, she glanced at his face. Strangely, he was smiling. She realized he’d been shaking in subdued laughter. He noticed her confused expression and wiped the grin off his face.

  “Sorry. Just thought of something. Give it, Eleanor,” he insisted wryly, nodding at the crumpled tissue.

  Reluctantly, she tried to set the well-used, balled-up tissue on top of the others, but he just grabbed it matter-of-factly. He rose from the couch, holding the used tissues in both hands. He was back within a minute.