“And you didn’t like the foster home where you were sent?”
“Hated it. I was determined to get back to my mom and sister. I thought they needed me to take care of them, you see. I ran away twice from that home, and then I was sent to another one, but I ran away from there, too. That’s when I was labeled a troubled youth and sent to a ranch that specialized in taking in at-risk boys, no more than one or two at a time. I was the only one there during my stay.”
At least they were keeping a conversation going now. Miranda seemed genuinely intrigued. “How did things work out for you at the ranch?”
“Very well, actually.” He picked up his water glass as he thought back to a time he hadn’t consciously remembered in years. “The couple who owned the ranch—Jared and Cassie Walker—were really good people. They had a son who was in college and a cute little red-haired daughter just a year younger than Terry. Jared was a no-nonsense cowboy who had a knack for asserting his authority without ever raising his voice. I pretty much idolized him by the end of my stay there.”
Miranda propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist. “So you lived on a ranch for a year. Did you ride horses and rope cows and stuff?”
“Mostly ‘stuff,’” he replied wryly. “I mucked out the stalls a lot.”
“Eww.”
“My sentiments, exactly. You’ll notice I didn’t pursue a ranching career, though I enjoyed my time there for the most part.”
“Do you ever see your foster family now?”
“I haven’t seen them since I was returned to my mother and sister when I was fifteen.” He still clearly remembered that tearful reunion. His mother had been overjoyed to have her children with her again. She had been so devastated to be separated from them that she had burst into tears every time Mark had mentioned the ranch from that day on.
He had felt vaguely guilty that he had bonded with the Walker family during his stay there. That guilt had compelled him to put his memories of the ranch away. He hadn’t responded to the Christmas or birthday cards Cassie had sent him, and eventually they had stopped coming. He had no idea if Jared and Cassie still lived on the ranch or if they remembered him. But the memories he had tucked away so deeply still warmed him on the rare occasions when he pulled them out.
“You’re an interesting man, Mark Wallace,” Miranda said, setting down her fork and pushing her plate away. “Darned good-looking, too. It’s rather a shame that we won’t be having a teeth-rattling affair. It might have been a memorable experience.”
He refused to let her see that she had disconcerted him with her intentionally outrageous comment. Instead he looked her right in the eyes and spoke confidently, “Trust me, it would most definitely be a memorable experience. And you would get more than your teeth rattled.”
He saw speculation enter her eyes, as if she were contemplating the same sort of images filling his mind at that moment. And then she smiled crookedly and shook her head, dropping her hand to her lap. “Maybe they were right to label you a troublemaker, after all. But as it happens, I’m not looking for trouble in my life just now.”
“Nor am I,” he said with a touch of regret. “So how about if we indulge in dessert, instead?”
She smiled at him from across the table. “Let’s make that a truly sinful dessert. Since it’s the only sin we’ll be committing tonight.”
Mark wasn’t so sure about that. Not if she counted the dreams he would undoubtedly have about her as sinful, which he had no doubt they would be.
Mark drove Miranda straight home after they finished dinner. He said nothing about seeing her again during the brief drive, and she assumed he considered this outing a one-time event.
She wasn’t sure what had prompted his invitation. Simple curiosity, perhaps. An impulsive gesture by a man who had been working too hard and spending too much time with preschoolers. She had found the evening both entertaining and illuminating. Who would have thought her accountant was a former bad boy?
Still, it was probably for the best if they kept their future encounters strictly business. Maybe Mark had been a rebel once, but he was Mr. Responsibility now. The most important women in his life were named Payton and Madison, and Miranda had no intention of competing with them for his attention.
No kids, she reminded herself. She had very good reasons for making that her number one rule when it came to dating.
He parked his family-sized SUV in an empty space at her apartment complex and turned off the engine. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
“I had a nice time tonight,” she told him as they ambled toward her ground-floor apartment. “Thank you for the dinner.”
“Was it really necessary for you to ask the restaurant staff to sing happy birthday to me when they delivered our desserts?”
She laughed at the embarrassment still lingering in his voice. “You must admit they were very enthusiastic about it. Their voices carried quite well, didn’t they?”
Mark groaned. “Much too well, actually. I was ready to sink beneath the table.”
She couldn’t resist reaching out to take his arm in a companionable manner. “You were so cute. Your face was as red as the cherries on your cheesecake.”
The wry look he slanted at her made her giggle, especially since his cheeks had turned a bit dark again. “I’m so glad you were entertained.”
So maybe this was their one and only date. Maybe they were a mismatched couple. Still, the night wasn’t quite over yet—and if it was their only outing together, they should definitely take a few memories away with them.
She paused in front of her door and turned to smile invitingly up at him. “There’s one more birthday tradition I haven’t taken care of yet.”
“Yeah?” He looked suddenly wary. “You don’t have a crowd of people waiting in the bushes to jump out and yell ‘surprise,’ do you?”
She laughed again and slid her hands up the front of his buttoned-down green shirt. “Actually I was thinking of the traditional birthday kiss.”
“Were you, now?”
Oh, yeah, he was interested. She could see it in his narrowed gray eyes.
“Mmm. Just a little taste—” she walked her fingers up his chest “—to see what it might be like—” she moved a step closer to him “—if things had been different for us.”
His mouth lowered slowly toward hers. “And what if that taste leaves me hungry for more?”
Their lips were almost close enough to meet when she murmured, “I’ve heard that self-denial builds character. But what harm can come from just a little taste?”
Their lips touched.
“Miss Martin? Miranda Martin?”
Both Mark and Miranda froze. And then Mark stepped back as Miranda turned to face the man who stood behind them on the sidewalk. The parking lot lights illuminated the hesitant expression on his broad, plain face.
“Yes, I’m Miranda Martin. Who are you?”
“My name is Jack Parsons. I’m an acquaintance of your sister’s.”
“Lisa?” Remembering the disturbing telephone call, Miranda felt her heart jump. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to her?”
“No, she’s okay. She wanted me to give you this.” The man held out an envelope, his big hand not quite steady. “And I have a delivery for you in my car.”
“A delivery?” Totally confused now, Miranda tilted her head to study him, trying without success to read the expression on the man’s