“She still has the purple pansy curtains.” He couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice.
“Yes, she does. They’re fairly new, though, the old ones had faded.”
“This still feels … homey,” Dawson mused, and Mikala had to wonder if his house didn’t.
Decisive again, he motioned down the hall. “Let’s look at the third-floor suite. Two bedrooms would be better to give both Luke and I some privacy.”
As they walked down the hall, Mikala tried to avoid thinking about the fact that if Dawson took the third-floor suite, she’d be on the second floor. Her quarters and her aunt’s were there. Having Dawson under the same roof gave her stomach an upside-down kind of feeling.
The carpet runner on the stairs quieted their footsteps. As they climbed the second flight, she asked him, “How much will you be bringing with you?”
“Just enough to make Luke comfortable. I’ll have his bedroom furniture and the piano trucked up here when we’re ready, but the rest of it I’m going to leave at the house. The market is picking up there, and with everything priced right, I’m hoping a furnished house will sell quickly. If Luke and I are starting a new life, it will be better that way.”
“You might ask him if there’s anything else he wants to keep. Baggage is one thing, Dawson, but memories are another. You don’t want to tear him away from everything he knows. He could be fighting the move because he feels that’s what you’re doing.”
At the landing now, Dawson looked troubled. “I hope I’m not making a mistake. But nothing is working for Luke in Phoenix.”
“What’s your gut telling you?” Mikala asked, as they stood at the door to the third-floor suite, close enough to share confidences and remember friendship that might have been more. If only—
If only Dawson’s family hadn’t moved away, whatever the reason.
“My gut’s telling me this is right.”
“Then maybe I can help him marry the past with the present.”
The word marry seemed to hang between them and she wondered why she’d chosen that word. To remind herself Dawson had been married? That even after two years he might still be grieving? That nothing could come of any attraction she might feel? That she didn’t trust that anyone would stay and not leave, especially a man … especially someone she loved? She’d been left behind more than once and she wouldn’t let it happen again. The memory of Alan Taylor telling her he’d fallen for someone else still stung … still hurt … bringing back a feeling of inadequacy she’d fought against since she was a teenager.
Mikala took a key ring from her pocket. It jangled as she poked an old-fashioned key into the door and turned the lock. The solid wood door swung open. She and Dawson stepped inside to a sitting room where braided rugs in hunter green and navy dotted the floor. The navy leather couch was accompanied by a green and blue plaid chair.
Mikala switched on a multi-colored Tiffany lamp so Dawson could see there was a small kitchen area with a microwave, two-burner stove and a table for two. Yellow curtains and placemats brightened up the small space.
As Dawson assessed the suite, Mikala crossed the room to a short hall. She opened one door to reveal a nice-sized bedroom with a hand-carved oak bed and dresser. A handmade quilt with navy, red, green and yellow patches stretched across the bed. The second bedroom, slightly smaller with a slanted ceiling, had an oak washstand with mirror, a shorter dresser and a double bed. Light poured in the double-hung windows, splashing over the green-and-tan spread.
“This is perfect,” Dawson decided. “I think Luke and I will both feel comfortable here.” He took a checkbook from his inside jacket pocket. “I should give your aunt a deposit.”
Automatically Mikala’s hand closed over his. “No, don’t worry about that. She’ll settle up with you when the time comes.”
Time seemed suspended for a moment as she could feel the heat of his hand under hers. He didn’t move and neither did she. Then she realized she should let go. She shouldn’t be touching him.
Hurriedly she released her fingers from his and dropped her hand to her side. But Dawson still seemed frozen in place. He studied her, maybe searching for the girl she’d once been, a scared lost teenager not knowing exactly who she was or where she belonged.
Before she could square her shoulders and tell him she was somebody very different now, he took her back fifteen years by gently grazing his thumb over her cheek. “When we were in high school—” He suddenly stopped, dropping his hand to his side.
“What?” she urged him, believing it was somehow important that he went on.
“I was going to ask you to the prom.”
Knowing the value of silence, she waited.
“But too much was going on at home. Then someone else asked you instead.”
Oh, yes. Carson Simmons had asked her to the prom and she’d gone with him because he’d been a football player, one of the in-crowd, someone who lots of girls wanted to go out with. But she’d found out that night why he didn’t seem to date anyone more than twice. She’d found out the hard way that some boys wanted to do more than talk and couldn’t—wouldn’t—take no for an answer.
“After I brought you home that night,” Dawson added, “I was going to call you.”
This time she couldn’t keep quiet. “But you didn’t.”
“All hell broke loose at home and things got … complicated.” Their gazes locked until he said, “A little bit like now.”
As if the moment had been much too intense for both of them, he slipped his checkbook back into his jacket pocket then checked his watch. “I’d better go.”
“I spend some of my time at the elementary school working with students who need help with communication and behavioral issues. Do you want me to go with you? I can show you around before your meeting with the principal.”
As soon as she offered, she wasn’t sure she should have … because Dawson was looking at her the same way he had the night of their prom.
“I’d like that,” he responded huskily.
At that moment, Mikala knew she had to bury whatever feelings she’d once had for Dawson so she could help his son.
That was the professional road to take … the one she must take.
Chapter Two
As Dawson and Mikala signed in at the office of Miners Bluff’s elementary school, he dropped the keys to his SUV in his pocket and glanced at her. She’d changed a lot since high school. He’d realized that the night of the reunion. She had a confidence about her now that went with her professional demeanor. She’d also gotten curvier and had a quietly sexy way about her that stirred up buried physical needs. Was that only happening because it had been a long time since he’d wanted to have sex with a woman?
A voice in his head was yelling, Not Mikala. She can’t be an experiment to satisfy your libido. Mikala had always been the kind of girl you respected … the kind of girl you waited for.
Where had that thought come from?
She finished with the pen and handed it to him so he could sign the log. Reaching for it, his fingers grazed hers. After he felt another jolt of attraction, he noticed such startled awareness in her eyes that he found it captivating. But he couldn’t be captivated by Mikala. She was going to be working with his son. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—mess with that.
But when he studied her pretty face and her expressive dark brown eyes, he knew he faced a battle against attraction and