“My insurance will cover it,” he said quietly, reaching out to put his hand over the top of her purse. “Forget it.”

His touch made her skin leap. It also increased her pulse rate uncomfortably. “I can’t do that,” she whispered.

“Sure you can.” Bending around her, he opened her door, which served to remind her that he was in a hurry, and that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. “It’s nothing, really,” he said.

“Of course it’s not. Not when you’re late for your important meeting with the bombshell.” Good Lord, where had that come from?

“Oh, Hunter!”

At the sound of a voice and the rapid clicking of heels, Trisha looked up to see none other than the just-alluded-to “bombshell” herself. Smiling, Sheryl waved a piece of paper and blew Hunter a kiss from a neighboring car. “Thanks so much for the tuition, Uncle Hunter! Great-Aunt Gloria and Great-Uncle Patrick said you’d come through for me because you always come through for them, and they were right. Thank them for me, too, will ya?”

“I’ll see you next quarter.” Hunter waved back, then turned to Trisha with raised eyebrows. “You were saying?”

Oh, dear. She’d done it again. “I was saying I still have one foot left to stick in my mouth. Give me a minute and I’ll be sure to do it right here so you can get some enjoyment out of it.”

She had to give him credit, he didn’t laugh at her. But he wanted to, she could tell. Unable to stand there feeling humiliated a second longer, she again turned away.

And again he stopped her. “Trisha.”

Good Lord, the way he said her name, as if it were golden honey dripping from his mouth. It completely undid her. “No, please,” she begged softly. “Don’t say anything. I’ve really got to go. About the car -”

“I said, forget it,” he said firmly.

Thankful, she slipped into the driver’s seat. “For now,” she agreed, because she so desperately needed to get away from him. “But I’m going to pay for that damage.” She managed a smile. “Maybe I’ll even throw in a car wash, to get any traces of lipstick off. It’s the least I can do.”

She shut the door, but he leaned down and tapped on the glass with a patient look on his face. With a deep breath, she rolled down the window. Casually, he rested his arms on the door and filled the window with his face, so close she could have moved a fraction of an inch and kissed him.

Light as a butterfly, he ran a finger over her lips, then gave her one of his rare, heart-stopping smiles. “Pink today,” he said, looking down at his finger.

“Wild fuchsia, actually.”

“It suits you. You have an incredible mouth, Trisha. It makes me think of things I have no business thinking.”

Good thing she was already sitting because her legs became useless.

His gaze roamed her features, then ran slowly down over her body, making her tingle in each place his eyes settled. When that gaze hit her exposed legs, covered only in sheer stockings, it heated, making her rethink her opinion about him never giving her a second look. He’d definitely just given her one. And a third look, and that third one had made taking another breath utterly impossible.

The sudden sexual tension had to be stopped, if only for health reasons. She’d suffocate this way. And her heart was pounding so fast, it was about to explode. “Great-Aunt Gloria and Great-Uncle Patrick – your parents?” she asked.

“One and the same.”

The tone of his voice said back off, so did the sudden tension in his large frame, which served to rouse her hungry curiosity about him. “You never told me if you were close.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Obviously, he had hoped she’d drop it. “Are you?”

“Depends on what you consider close.”

“You’re being purposely difficult.”

He cocked his head. “I’m very aware of that fact. My secretary says I define the word. According to her, I’m also obsessively single-minded, a bit arrogant, and more than a little annoying.”

Trisha smiled, thinking his secretary must be a keen psychologist, if not a saint. “You’re changing the subject.”

He sighed. “I’m trying.”

“Do you give your parents money too?”

He shrugged.

“I thought you said you never let your family get the best of you.”

“They haven’t.”

“Looks to me as if you’re supporting the entire Adams clan,” she said.

“I’ve got some extra money and they don’t have any. Doesn’t hurt me to help.”

“You know something, Dr. Adams?”

His eyes regained their sparkle at her haughty tone. “What, Ms. Malloy?”

“I think you care a lot more than you let on. Which makes you kind and generous as well as difficult and annoying.”

“What about arrogant?”

“No,” she said slowly. “Not arrogant. Just basically quiet. Maybe even a little shy. People always mistake that for arrogance.”

Startled, he let out a sound that might have been a muffled laugh. “My two ex-fiancées might disagree with you.”

“Two?” she squeaked.

“If I recall correctly,” he said dryly, “they both said nearly exactly the same thing when they left me. Cold, callous, and miserly with my affections.”

They’d left him. “Did you love them?” she asked softly.

Again, she’d startled him. “I thought so at the time, but in retrospect, I decided I know little to nothing about that particular emotion. Nor,” he added quietly, “do I want to.”

Ah, now she understood, and her heart broke a little for him. “We’re not all bad. You just can’t ask everyone to marry you. You’ve got to be picky.”

His mouth quirked. “Now you tell me.” He sighed. “Marriage isn’t for me. Getting engaged is just too damn expensive.”

“You should have had them return the engagement rings.”

A muffled sound that might have been an embarrassed laugh escaped him, and he avoided her gaze.

“You let them keep the rings,” she said, not surprised. Hunter, a wealthy man in his own right, probably wouldn’t blink an eye at the cost of an engagement ring. “You, ah… hadn’t started wedding plans on either of those marriages, had you?”

“Maybe.”

Now she understood. “And you covered the costs afterward, right?” That he didn’t answer told her everything. “How much?”

“It’s considered tacky,” he said wryly, “to hound a man left at the altar with questions about how much he’s spent.”

“Oh, Hunter,” she breathed, picturing this tall, proud man being stood up in front of his friends, his peers, his wretched family. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s definitely for the best,” he said with a small smile. “I could be shackled right now.”

Yeah. And unavailable. Forget being sorry and thank God he’d been dumped. “That heart of yours is pretty big,” she whispered. “Add that to kind and generous.”

“Don’t.” His voice sounded rough with emotion. “I’m not kind, or generous.”

“I think you are.”

Reaching through the open window, he flicked at her long, dangling pink earrings. The pad of his thumb touched the sensitive spot beneath her ear and a shiver raced through her.

“You’re wrong,” he assured her, frowning with intense concentration as his thumb continued making soft strokes to her skin. “I just like to get everyone out of my hair. Nothing seems to do that quite like money.”

He was making light of what he’d done, which touched her unbearably. She had to leave before she made a bigger fool of herself. “See you later, Hunter.”

He didn’t smile, but something passed between them, something unspoken, something hot enough to steal what little breath she’d managed to regain.

“See you later, Trisha.”

Just as she turned to start the car his hand slid down softly over her hair, so lightly, she couldn’t decide if he’d really done it, or if it was a case of her overactive imagination.

When she looked at him again, he’d straightened, his gaze impenetrable. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

It coaxed a smile from her, and seeing this, he looked satisfied. Turning, he walked away, his long legs covering the ground with ease, his shoulders straight, his stride impossibly confident.

He’d never looked more distant, more unattainable. Didn’t matter much, Trisha thought. No matter how many times she’d been forcibly reminded of their differences, she still wanted that man. Helplessly.

Trisha had no idea why her world suddenly didn’t seem enough. She had the freedom that she’d yearned for all those years while she’d been browbeaten and restrained by her aunt and uncle.

No longer did anyone tell her what to do, how to dress, whom to associate with. It was wonderful, and exhilarating. She had her own shop, which she ran as she wanted. As her own boss, she came and went as she pleased.

And she hadn’t had to move once.

She’d had all this while scorning the things she saw as tethers; things like marriage, having children, a man to love. None of those were for her.

So what was wrong? Why wasn’t this happy, carefree life enough anymore? Why did she suddenly crave the very things she’d always sworn to avoid?

It horrified her, these yearnings and needs she couldn’t control. Even worse, she had a terrible suspicion that they were due to Hunter Adams.

He drew her, and it wasn’t simply because he was gorgeous. Despite her jokes about his profession, his intelligence drew her. So did his quiet decisiveness, his intuitiveness, his sensitivity. And then there was his surprisingly wicked sense of humor.

Too bad every little thing about her wrecked the poor guy’s peace of mind. Because of that, there was no future for her with him except heartbreak and disappointment.

Celia, sensing her friend’s melancholy, had splurged and brought Trisha a present meant to cheer her up – a basket filled with dozens of scented candles of all sizes, bath oil, and a bottle of wine. For distraction, Celia had insisted.