Her heart swelled at his comment. “Did you look at the stars when you were a kid?”

“Oh, yeah. Still do. Of course, when I was five and asked my dad what stars are, he said, ‘They’re self-gravitating massive spheres of plasma in hydrostatic equilibrium which generate their own energy through the process of nuclear fusion.’”

For the first time since he’d sat next to her, she turned to stare at him and saw he was gazing up at the night sky. “You’re kidding.”

He looked her way, and his mouth slanted upward in that dimple-producing lopsided grin. “I’m not. But considering that he’s an astrophysicist, his answer wasn’t surprising. Now if I’d asked my mother, who’s an artist, I’m sure I would have gotten a more whimsical answer.”

“An astrophysicist and an artist. That’s quite an interesting combination.”

“They’re quite an interesting couple. They met at college when my dad, who tends to forget where he’s going when he’s mulling over a scientific problem, wandered into the wrong classroom. Instead of organic chemistry, he found himself in Nude Painting 101.”

A giggle tickled her throat. “That must make for an interesting how-I-met-your-mother story.”

“Sure does.” He grinned. “Especially since Mom was the model.”

Kayla felt her eyes widen, then she laughed. “Clearly she made quite a first impression.”

“Yup. She was the proverbial starving artist and used to model for the class to pay her tuition. Dad says he took one look at her and it was if an explosion of supernova proportions occurred. Which is saying a lot since a stellar explosion is estimated to release an equivalent energy of up to one million trillion trillion megatons of TNT.”

“Wow. That’s some big kaboom.”

“That’s what Dad said-once he remembered how to speak English.”

“Sounds like you have a nice relationship with your folks.”

“I do. They’re good people.”

Pulling her gaze from his, she once again stared into the fire. “I miss my dad every day,” she said softly, an image of her dad’s smiling face flashing through her mind, “but I’ve learned to live with the loss, with the way he died. I rarely let it get the better of me anymore like I did tonight. But sometimes it hits me. Blindsides me. Like when Dan mentioned his wife. I didn’t expect it and it all came roaring back. The mind-numbing grief. The senselessness of it all. The fury at the person who took my dad away. And the aftermath…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to stop the flow of words, but now that the floodgates were open, she couldn’t. “The trial…it was a nightmare. The kid who killed him was only eighteen. He’s twenty-three now and was released from jail more than two years ago. My dad died three days after his fiftieth birthday. We’d thrown a big party for him. I’d give anything if we could have thrown another one for him this year, for his fifty-fifth.”

Her voice faded and once again silence engulfed them. Tightening her grip around her legs, she stared into the fire.

“I know it’s totally inadequate,” Brett said softly, “but I’m real sorry about your dad.”

She turned her head and looked at him. He stared straight ahead, his profile cast in flickering shadows from the fire. “Thank you. I appreciate not only the words, but how kind you’ve been tonight.”

He turned to look at her, and when their eyes met, warmth flared through her as if he’d tossed a few more logs on the fire. “You know, I’ve never lost anyone I’ve loved.”

“You’re very fortunate.”

“I can’t pretend to understand how terrible it is in reality, but based on how the mere thought of losing one of my parents in such an awful way makes me feel…” He shook his head. “I can only say again that I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It was bad for all of us, but hardest on my mom. She and Dad met in a public-speaking class their last semester of college. They fell in love like that-” she snapped her fingers “-and married a month after graduation. They were always holding hands and laughing together, and still very much in love. My sisters and I lost our dad, but she lost her best friend, her soul mate and the man she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with. It’s taken her a long time to start living again.”

A half smile tugged up one corner of her mouth. “Which is why I try not to complain about her matchmaking-fixing me up on dates is sort of like her hobby, but really, I wish she’d try something else. Like stamp-collecting. She’s just bad at matchmaking. You wouldn’t believe some of the men she’s introduced me to. It’s like a hall of fame for Men No Sane Woman Would Want to Date.”

“Does she date?”

“She’s just starting to dip her toe back in the social pool, which is nice to see. I’m hoping that she’ll turn all her matchmaking attention toward finding dating prospects for herself. She’s sort of freaked right now about being a grandmother, but a huge part of that is because my dad’s not here to be a grandparent with her. I know she’s going to take one look at the baby and be a total goner.”

“You mentioned you were looking forward to being an aunt.”

“Oh, yeah. I was almost ten when my sister Cindy was born. I remember the first time I saw her. Me and Meg and our dad stood at the window at the hospital nursery and Dad pointed Cindy out. It took me exactly half a second to fall in love.”

“How about Meg?”

Kayla huffed out a laugh. “It took her a little longer to warm up to our new baby sister. She was thirteen and mortally afraid she’d have to spend her prime teenage dating nights babysitting. I believe her exact first words about Cindy were ‘She’s red and wrinkly and Kayla can babysit.’”

He chuckled. “And did you babysit?”

“Heck yes. Every chance I got. My mom did medical transcriptions and worked from home, so she was there to keep a parental eye on things, but it was my job to watch Cindy after school until dinnertime. I loved doing it and my mom paid me.” She breathed out a sigh, noting the vapor her breath made in the chilly air. “Now that’s what I call a great job-getting paid to do something you love.”

“That is definitely the best-case scenario.”

His voice held a note of…something that prompted her to ask, “Do you love your job?”

A frown puckered his brow and he didn’t answer right away. Finally he said, “I love the research, the challenge to discover something new, the knowledge that it could happen in the next hour or day, having a state-of-the-art laboratory at my disposal. But I hate the political bull crap. A lab is no different than an office as far as needing hip boots to wade through the piles of stink.

“I really enjoy the class I teach at Columbia. I like interacting with the students and faculty. At the lab, I spend most of my time alone, so I especially enjoy my time in the classroom.”

His gaze searched hers for several seconds, then he said, “I get tired of being alone.”

The quiet words grabbed her. She knew exactly what “alone” felt like, and she didn’t like it. “What about your breakthrough discovery? I thought it had made you the toast of the town.” Guilt slapped her at the question, but she beat it back, rationalizing that she was asking out of personal curiosity, not in an attempt to gain information for La Fleur.

“Oh yeah. On the surface I’m ‘the guy.’” There was no missing the bitter tinge in his voice. “But all that’s actually done is isolate me more because I have only myself and a very small group of people I trust to count on to make the right decisions.”

She nodded slowly, understanding completely. “So now you’ve discovered how it feels to be lonely in a crowd.”

“I have.” His eyes remained steady on hers. “That sounds like the voice of experience talking.”

“I suppose it is. And I certainly know what you mean about office politics. Where I work, it not only involves wading through the bull crap, but watching out for the back-stabbers. I envy you having a teaching career you could fall back on. If I had an option, I’d seriously consider leaving.”

She’d never said the words out loud before, but the instant she voiced them, she realized how true they were. “I’m tired of placating spoiled divas, of putting a good spin on selfish behavior.” Of being asked to spy on scientists.

A chill ran through her at the thought, and she shivered.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Sort of.” Guilt provided very little warmth.

“Would you like me to get you a blanket? Or I’d be glad to offer some body warmth.” He uncrossed his ankles, spread his legs, then bent his knees, creating an inviting cocoon for her.

Since body warmth sounded much nicer than a blanket, she resettled herself between his thighs, resting her back against his broad chest. His arms came around her, encircling her with heat, his hands resting atop hers. He smelled clean, like the soap she’d brought to the river, and an image of them washing each other, touching each other, flashed through her mind, instantly evaporating any lingering chill.

“Better?” he asked, his warm breath whispering across her cheek.

“Yes.” In fact, it was downright scary how much better. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Men naturally generate more body heat than women. No point in letting it go to waste.”

“No, indeed.” Her eyes slid closed and she snuggled closer to his masculine warmth. The press of his legs surrounding hers, his strong arms wrapped around her, the wall of his chest behind her…it was like being wrapped in a Brett-scented blanket.

“So tell me,” he said, the stubble on his chin brushing against her hair, “who are these divas you do PR for-a bunch of teenage movie stars?”

“Almost as bad. A bunch of drama-prone models famous for behaving badly, and the drama-prone photographers who take pictures of them.”

“Ugh. The lab is looking better and better. How long have you been at your job?”