The Billionaire's Handler. Jennifer Greene

brother as Tommy had always been about him. They may have had different mothers, but they were unmistakably kin.

      She saw. “So that’s how you knew about me?” she asked. “Because of Tommy? Because you’re part of Tommy’s family?”

      He nodded. Eventually that answer would undoubtedly raise more questions for her than it revealed … but it was still a punch of information that mattered. Her shoulders lost some of that stiff wariness.

      It was a beginning.

      Rather than grab the netbook and trying to typetalk to her, he figured he’d see how far they could get with sign language for a while. Would she like to go outside? Walk? He brought sweatpants and a sweatshirt for her to wear, boots she could pad up with thick wool socks, a jacket of his.

      Initially she seemed to hesitate, but she shot such a longing look at the outside that he knew she was sold on the idea. It only took her a few minutes to take the makeshift clothes into the bathroom and emerge, looking like a homeless waif—but definitely a waif up for an adventure. The doctors had warned him that she needed serious rest and no exertion, but Maguire had to believe a little fresh air and sunshine would do her good.

      Their first step outside, and he heard her chuckle, and saw how a natural smile transformed her face. Quail had hung out on the property for years, and this particular community of twenty-five or so looked exactly like what they were. Doofuses. Bobbing doofuses. They followed the leader, even when the leader was clumsy enough to trip on a rock and lead them through puddles.

      A sassy wind blushed Carolina’s cheeks, combed wildly through her hair. He grabbed her hand, climbing over a tall rock through the pines. Her eyes shot to his at the physical contact, but she didn’t object.

      A quarter-mile hike through pines led to a cliff edge. It wasn’t the best view, just a pretty vista—the mountains were getting a drench of snow in the distance, with a sunlit valley just below, salted with grazing deer.

      Abruptly, though, he realized that he was still holding her hand, that they were standing hip-bumping close. His pulse gave an uneasy buck. The view was nice, but the way she looked at him, you’d have thought he’d given her gold.

      He wanted—needed—Carolina to believe she could trust him, but those soft eyes conveyed something else. Something more. Something … worrisome.

      Swiftly he dropped her hand. “Okay, Cee. That’s enough exercise for today. The more fresh air for you, the better, but I think we’d better build up to it.”

      He forgot. She couldn’t hear. But she seemed to respond to his intention, because she turned when he did, headed back down the trail. The last dozen yards, her face seemed to lose that wind-brushed color, and her eyes got that glazed, exhausted look again. He wanted to scoop an arm around her, but stopped himself just in time.

      At the back door, he mouthed, “Nap for you,” which provoked an immediate negative response. She shook her head frantically.

      “No, Maguire. This is all too crazy. I need to know what’s going on. Especially since I saw the picture of Tommy—”

      Yeah, well. He was more than willing to talk with her, but first he had to get things back on the right footing. He got her inside, did the bossy domineering thing, yanking off her boots, settling her on the couch with a pillow and comforter, giving her a pad of paper so she could start working on those lists, then he got out of her way. His excuse for disappearing into the kitchen area was that he was making cocoa.

      That turned out to be unnecessary. By the time he returned with a steaming mug of cocoa, brimming with melting marshmallows, she’d fallen asleep again.

      He felt his stomach declench, his shoulder muscles loosen up. He’d made too much of that “look.” Everything was fine. She needed to see him as a leader or a benevolent caretaker or someone who’d taken control of their situation. Actually, he didn’t much care what label she gave him, or what she thought of him—as long as she didn’t mistake him as a potential lover.

      And obviously that wasn’t a problem, if she could nap this easily. Everything was going hunky-dory, nothing to worry about, Maguire was sure.