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  I texted my driver and then found Dabney standing at the reception desk where I’d left her.

  “Is there anything I need to do? I was going to head on home, but if you need help with anything I can stay for a bit.”

  “You’ve done more than I could ever ask,” she said, grabbing me into a hug. “I don’t know the exact amount, but because of you and your wonderful contact list, I’m convinced we’ve raked in more money than the last three auctions combined.”

  “I’m glad I could help. So if you don’t need me, then, I’ll say goodnight. I’ve got a date with a new book on my e-reader and a cup of chamomile tea.”

  With a chuckle, she said, “Don’t keep either waiting. I’ll call you sometime this week about the next meeting.”

  Maeve, of course, fussed and fretted over me the moment I came through the door, but I was used to it. She drew me a warm bath then helped me get settled in bed with that cup of promised chamomile tea. There was something to be said for being spoiled. Truthfully, I should have been upset at being treated like a child at three and a half decades of age. But I knew everything Maeve did she did out of love, so it was easier to accept all her ministrations and tongue clicks and smother-love. And when all was said and done, I loved her with all my heart, so it was easy to sit back and let her do what she did best.

  When my eyes grew heavy I gave up reading and bookmarked the page I’d read three times without remembering what it said, then shut my bedside light. Almost immediately the screen on my phone lit up and buzzed with an incoming text.

  I swiped the screen and found a hyperlink to an article titled The health benefits of drinking coffee.

  No surprise who’d sent it.

  I was about to reply that I’d just had a cup of restorative tea, when another text came through.

  ~I’m a big believer in keeping healthy. So, coffee? How does tomorrow at 10 sound?

  He certainly didn’t let any grass grow under his feet, did he?

  I flipped through my mental calendar and typed back ~Tomorrow is fine, but I can’t make it until 1. Okay?

  A thumb’s up emoji and the name of a restaurant I knew in Tribeca ran across the screen. After I agreed and hit send I snuggled down under my quilt and fell asleep with a smile and warm thoughts about…coffee.

  Chapter Four

  Mid-day traffic was thick as Murphy ambled the car from the Till to Tribeca. It would have taken half the time if I’d simply hopped on the subway. For the thousandth time I thought about the promise I’d made to my mother that I’d never take public transportation. Anywhere, or at any time. She’d made me give my word that I’d always have Murphy, our long time driver, bring me to any appointments.

  At the time it seemed like such a small, trivial promise to keep. Now it was more an inconvenience than anything. Plus, a huge time suck.

  Fifteen minutes after one o’clock, Murphy pulled up in front of the restaurant.

  “GPS tells me there’s a public lot around the corner. I’ll swing there and wait for you to call me back,” Murphy told me as he held my car door open. “Enjoy your lunch, Miss Aurora.”

  I thanked him and then hurried into the restaurant. Twenty-year-old Rory wouldn’t have cared less about being late for any appointment, frequently was, and many times didn’t even show up when she was expected.

  What a pain in the ass I’d been.

  The new, mature A.J. was all about being on time and keeping commitments, so when I’d realized I was going to be late, I’d texted Cade. He’d replied not to worry because he’d cleared his schedule for the afternoon.

  I wondered if he was hoping coffee would dawdle into an early dinner.

  Or even a late one.

  I gave my name to the maître d and she escorted me to a table in the back of the restaurant, far away from the rest of the diners, to a section of private booths.

  Cade spotted me and stood.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said once I got to the table. “Traffic from uptown was a nightmare.”

  Since we were only recent acquaintances I was a bit unsure of how to greet him: shake his hand, or buss his cheek? Again, so much had changed since I’d last been on anything resembling a date that I was nervous about what was acceptable.

  Cade took the decision away from me and waved his hand to indicate I should slide into the booth. “Don’t apologize for traffic. I’ve lived in this city my entire life. I know how difficult it can be. But thank you for letting me know you were held up.” One corner of his mouth tipped up in a half grin. “If you hadn’t, I know I would have thought you’d bailed on me or forgot. Thanks for saving my ego from a devastating blow.”

  “I have a feeling your ego would have survived.”

  The booth was a half circle, big enough for at least six to sit comfortably and spread out. When Cade slid all the way in and then right up next to me, the big booth suddenly got way smaller.

  “I know we said coffee, but I missed breakfast because I had an early conference call, so would you mind very much if we got lunch instead?” he asked. “You don’t have to eat anything if you’re not hungry. You can just order coffee like we agreed. But I need food. The last time I ate was at the auction.”

  I’d been watching his gorgeous mouth move while he spoke, mesmerized by his top lip. I hadn’t noticed before it was so defined, almost like a perfect bow. On a woman it would have been considered pouty or called plump and alluring. On him it was simply perfect and conjured up ideas about how his mouth would feel pressed against mine in a kiss.

  I’d bet my trust fund dividends for the month he was a good kisser. He’d be in command from the moment our lips met, teasing mine, and, maybe, just a little bit naughty. Without thinking, my knees pressed closer together under the tabletop.

  I was so lost in my imaginings, it took me a moment for his question to penetrate through the erotic haze I’d conjured.

  “Is something wrong?” He reached out a hand to where mine rested on the table, and covered them.

  My eyes beat a rapid tattoo as I shook my head like a duck shucking water and sat up a bit straighter.

  “Sorry.” I managed a tiny grin.

  “I lost you there for a second. Maybe you need some lunch, too.” He cocked an eyebrow my way.

  Which is how I wound up ordering a Mediterranean salad and half a turkey club sandwich. The salad was for my mother’s benefit. All those good anti-oxidants and healthy veggies. The turkey club was all for me.

  After we gave our order to the server, Cade folded his hands together on the table and asked, “So I’m curious how you got involved with the women’s center. I wanted to ask you last night but never got the chance.”

  “Before I tell you, I want to thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “Buying the Ainsworth. Even though I know you bid on it for a client, the amount you spent was…amazing. I hope your client isn’t mad at the final price.”

  “On the contrary. His exact words to me this morning when I spoke with him were that he thought it was going to be much more. He actually thanked me for getting him, quote, a bargain, unquote.”

  “Calling a two hundred thousand dollar purchase a bargain is,” I shook my head, “very telling about the kind of clients you have.”

  His shrug didn’t come off as nonchalant as I think he wanted it to.

  A tiny throat clear and then he said, “So. About the center?”

  He didn’t want to talk about his clients. I got that. Anonymity, and all.

  Our server brought our drinks and our salads and I waited until we were alone again before speaking.

  “I met someone who was a former recipient of their help at a school event and after I heard her story I wanted to do what I could to help raise money so more women could benefit from the center’s resources.”

  “School?”

  “College.”

  “So you’ve been involved with the center for a while, then, if you heard her speak while you were in college.�
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  This was one of those incidents when missing out on ten years of social interactions came into play. Cade assumed I’d gone to college during my twenties. And I had. But I’d finished my degree over a decade after starting. I didn’t want to go into the whole I was in a coma and wow look at me now explanation, so while I took a few bites of my salad I formulated what I wanted to say.

  “I’ve only been helping out for about three months.”

  To the question crossing his face, I answered, “I graduated college a year ago.”

  His forehead crinkled while he cocked his head. The opposite corner of his mouth lifted up a smidge and that sexy little half grin had me squirming against the booth cushion.

  “Bit of a late bloomer, were you?”

  I laughed and his smile grew.

  “You could say that. Life kind of…got in the way.” Before he asked in what way, I pressed forward. “I started my degree at the normal age, and finished it last year. Anyway. The woman I met was a guest lecturer in my sociology course. After hearing her story I knew I had to help out the center in any way I could.

  “That must have been one impressive lecture.”

  “It was. She told of being raised by a single mother who had alcohol issues. They survived on welfare. For some reason, she knew education was the way out of poverty and her situation so she did well in high school but not enough to get scholarships to college. She worked fulltime while in high school and then two jobs after graduating so she could save enough to pay for college tuition.”

  “And she did?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Not at that time in her life. She got involved with a guy who was bad news, had a baby, and then the guy beat her, sending her to the hospital and stole all her money. She was homeless, her baby had been taken by foster care and now she had a slew of hospital bills she couldn’t afford to pay.”

  “How did she turn it all around?”

  “One of the nurses assigned to care for her was a volunteer at the center. The two of them got talking and the nurse encouraged the woman, Mikayla, to visit the center and let them help her get back on her feet. When she was discharged she showed up and within six weeks she had a job and an apartment and after six months she had her baby back. The life coaches and volunteers at the Center helped her with all that. Then they found scholarship monies and awards for college she qualified for because of her low income status. When she was awarded a few, she went back to school in the evenings while still working. It took her almost eight years, but she received her baccalaureate degree then her Master’s in social work. Now, she volunteers at the center and helps other women who were just like her, so she’s paying it forward in the best possible way.”

  “That’s some story.”

  I took another sip of water and then nodded. “My eyes were opened wide for the first time in my life about the inequalities in the world when I heard Mikayla speak. She grew up less than five miles from where I did and yet she lived in a totally different world. A world I never considered existed. I was afforded every opportunity in life while she, and many more like her, weren’t. I wanted to help women like her, in the same or similar circumstances. Kind of even the playing field for them, you know?”

  His expression grew pensive. As he propped an elbow on the table and cupped his chin with the palm of his hand, his lids dropped a bit as he regarded me.

  “What?”

  “I think that’s extremely admirable. I haven’t met too many people who say they want to help others and then actually put action behind the words. Most of the time it’s just lip service with no backup.”

  His praise warmed me, but the truth of his statement made me sad.

  “Was volunteering with registration last night part of your commitment to help?” he asked.

  “In a way.”

  I felt a bit snobbish telling him what my actual role had been, but when he pressed, asking, “In what way?” I thought it rude not to be truthful.

  “The past auctions have raised a fair amount of money. The Center is wholly funded through donations, the auction being its only fundraiser. When I was asked to be on the auction committee I said yes immediately because I knew I could bring new people to the event who hadn’t heard of it. People with deep pockets who like auctions because they like getting something tangible for their donation money in addition to their sense of gratification at helping a worthy cause.”

  Or, if you were like my mother and Mimsey, because outbidding other people was a sporting event.

  I didn’t say that aloud, though. It felt a little too…disloyal to mom. Mimsey, too.

  “I provided a list of new potential donor names and then was put in charge of the invitations.” Something niggled at the back of my mind. “I don’t happen to remember your name being on the mailing list.”

  “It wasn’t. You sent the invite to my client.”

  That made sense. “He—or she—didn’t want to attend and sent you as an emissary?”

  He laugh was quick and free and when the corners of his eyes crinkled I had to take a beat to simply enjoy the sound and the moment.

  “That’s not a bad way of putting it,” he said.

  I ran through all the names on the invite list, the ones I knew anyway, to try and figure out who this mysterious client was.

  “Give up yet?” he asked, his eyes still lit with laughter.

  “You can read minds, too?”

  “Not usually. I’m better at reading faces and yours is telling me you’re trying to decide who my client is.”

  At his words I tried to blank my face. Cade chuckled again and said, “Too late. I’ve already seen the wheels spinning.”

  “I’m never playing poker with you.” I forked in the last of my salad.

  At the silence coming back at me, I lifted a brow.

  “At the chance of sounding redundant, what? Your expression is very thoughtful right now.”

  He laid his fork down on the table and reached across to thread his fingers through mine. The move was so unexpected, I was shocked I didn’t retract my hand as I usually did when someone touched me first. Spending ten years in a coma, having strange hands on me all the time, doing basically everything for me I couldn’t do for myself, had left a strange and lasting impression on me. I didn’t mind touching someone if I was the instigator, as in shaking someone’s hand. But I didn’t like to have someone’s hands on me without prior knowledge or consent.

  Why, then, hadn’t I flinched when Cade touched me now or earlier? A question I had no answer to.

  “I was picturing the two of us playing poker.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged. “So why the grooved forehead and squinty eyes?”

  He held my gaze for a beat, just long enough for me to fidget again in my seat.

  “Strip poker.”

  Okay, what now?

  That damn grin was gonna be the end of me, I was sure of it. Cade squeezed my hand, his lips pulling back into a wide and open smile that was so sexy and mischievous I found I didn’t really care what he’d said.

  “You should see your own expression right now. I’m betting you’re torn between slapping my face and wondering if I’m kidding,” he said.

  I thought he might be, but something in his manner suggested he was as serious as a heart attack.

  “I don’t think you’re kidding, but…are you?”

  The grin stayed in place, but the playfulness in his eyes turned on a dime to something hot and smoldering. So hot, in fact, it was a wonder my face didn’t catch fire from the flames shooting toward to me. The air around us heated and I started to stress sweat in very inconvenient places.

  “What do you think?” he asked, his fingers now gently squeezing then releasing mine, the rhythm so like a heartbeat I could feel the motion thumping against my ribcage.

  Desire was such an alien creature to me these days I didn’t know how to handle the sensations catapulting through my system. I couldn’t find the words to respond to him. I was so out of pr
actice in the seduction department, for a moment I thought I’d gone mute.

  Twenty-year-old Rory decided to rear her head right then in order to answer his question. She’d always been a bit of flirt and knew the secret art of just how to seduce a man into a frenzy without leaving him upset or angry when she didn’t follow through. In others words, I’d been a tease with a heart of gold, to quote one of my college boyfriends.

  I relaxed my shoulders and softened my spine from its erect posture. My breathing slowed and calmed and my heart rate went from a banging drum line in my ears to the sound of a gentle falling rain.

  I leaned in toward him, my gaze taking a lazy drag down to his mouth, where the corners were quirking, and then back up to his eyes, now half closed as he regarded me. I swiped my tongue across my bottom lip in a full-on and blatant seductress move. My heart rate sped up a bit again when he sucked in a breath, his own gaze now dropping to my lips.

  “I think,” he bent closer so he could hear my intentionally lowered voice, “your…”—I let my fingers drift across his palm and felt a shudder sluice through him—“burger is getting cold.”

  I kept leaning in for a few moments, just enough to notice his hooded eyes widen. When they began blinking in a rapid staccato, I shot him a full-toothed smile and sat back upright. Sliding my hand out of his, I lifted my sandwich, took a bite, and while chewing, tossed a smirk his way.

  I may not have flirted for a while—okay, way longer than a while—but it obviously didn’t mean I’d lost any of my previous skills. Or, at least, Aurora hadn’t. A.J. might need some fine-tuning in the art of toying with a man. From the befuddled but sexy look on Cade’s face, though, it wasn’t going to be a long and drawn-out refresher course. More like a quick review.

  The delicious sound of his deep, manly laughter did all kinds of weird and wonderful things to my insides.

  He sat back as well and mimicked my movements.

  I got lost in watching the muscles of his jaw and neck while he chewed, then swallowed.

  “Is it good?” I asked.

  He nodded, then said, “Better than I expected.”

  There was a double meaning in his words, I could swear it. Did he mean me, or the lunch?