“No need to put you to that trouble,” she answered quickly.
“It’s no trouble. Just tell me how to get there. I’m still trying to find my way around Seattle.”
As she hesitated, he saw a flicker of indecision in her eyes. He could tell that she was tempted to accept his offer. The stalled car could be a blessing in disguise. Her sudden departure from the meeting had left him wondering how to initiate further contact with her. It was imperative to move quickly to enlist her help. He was relieved when she nodded.
As they walked to his car, he made an idle comment about the gathering rain clouds. “There’s more rain here in a week than we have in a whole season back home.”
“The natives call it liquid sunshine,” she informed him with a faint smile.
“I grew up in New Mexico. Ever been there?” he asked, hoping to make the situation seem casual and friendly.
“No, but I don’t think I’d like it,” she said frankly. “I’d miss the water.”
He could tell from her pensive expression that her thoughts were beyond any casual chitchat. Not that he could blame her. She’d been given a double whammy. Learning the identity of her grandfather would have been shock enough, but the inheritance on top of that would knock anyone for a loop. He knew from her case history that she possessed a dogged will that had obviously shaped her life. The vulnerable innocence about her was utterly deceptive. She wouldn’t be easily persuaded to fall in line with his plans.
As she sat in the seat beside him, he was aware of her appealing femininity, the lines and curves of her body. Her summer blouse molded the fullness of her breasts, and its open collar revealed the smooth lines of her neck. A faint floral scent teased his nostrils, and he realized that he’d been without feminine company far too long.
She told him the address of her apartment and gave him directions. He related a couple of humorous experiences he’d had trying to find his way in foreign countries and was rewarded with a slight smile.
“Have you traveled abroad quite a bit?” she asked.
“Not really. South America, mostly. I lived in Brazil for a couple of years. I served as the judicial attaché at the United States Embassy and coordinated evidence of drug-related activities.”
“I see. And when you came back to the States, you became an FDA agent?”
“Yes.”
As he fell silent, Carolyn was aware of the change in him. A shadow passed over his eyes, and she sensed that for some reason the subject was painful for him. What had happened in his career, she wondered, to put that kind of pain in his expression? She remembered how very intense he’d been in the lawyer’s office. Obviously Bancroft had asked him to be there, and she had cut him off when he tried to explain his interest in her sudden legacy.
“Is this the place?” he asked as he pulled up in front of the large house owned by an elderly widow from whom she rented an upstairs apartment.
“Yes, this is…home.” She hesitated slightly over the word as she reached for the door handle. She was still feeling overwhelmed, but a blessed detachment had begun to ease her bewilderment.
“Carolyn, could we talk a minute? I know your head must be swimming with all this, but I really need to share some things with you. Would you just hear me out? It’s important. There are some decisions that have to be made.”
“I’m not ready to make decisions of any kind,” she answered firmly. “I’ve read about people who suddenly come into money and how they’re hounded by the public, pulled this way and that. Everyone with his hands out and—”
“This isn’t about money,” he said curtly. “It’s about the welfare of a lot of people. Your decision to become a doctor had something to do with your dedication to the public interest, I assume.”
“I don’t think my dedication is the issue here,” she said evenly. “Don’t you understand? I’m too stunned to even comprehend what all this means. I need time, information and the insight to make some decisions. I really don’t know what you expect from me.”
“You will, if you’ll give me a chance to explain. Please, Carolyn. Just hear me out. Then I’ll give you the time you need to come to terms with what I’m asking.”
His gray eyes were like grappling hooks locking her gaze with his. An undefined warning stirred deep within her. She wanted to turn away, but couldn’t. Whether she wanted to or not, she was going to have to deal with this.
She moistened her lips. “All right. But not here in the car. We can talk better inside.”
He nodded, and quickly got out and came around the car to open her door. Without talking, they walked around the house to the outside staircase that led to her apartment. She could feel his warm breath on her neck as she secured her key in the lock and opened the door.
The tiny kitchen was a mess. She’d slept in late and barely made it to her ten o’clock appointment with Bancroft. The tiny living room wasn’t much better, and Carolyn wished she’d shut the bedroom door so he couldn’t see the discarded clothes on her bed. She’d tried on several outfits before deciding on the summer skirt and blouse.
She swallowed back any apologies or explanation. The apartment was sparsely furnished with the land-lady’s cast-off furniture. Most of it would have gone begging at a garage sale. An old, scarred desk was loaded down with medical books, papers and a small computer.
In an effort to add some color and personal touches, Carolyn had hung some framed calendar prints and bought a small plant stand. She rarely had any kind of company, and the place looked exactly what it was—rented space.
She avoided looking at Adam as he sat down on the lumpy couch and she took a nearby faded chair. What was he thinking? Why had he intruded on her privacy like this? She was suddenly aware of his masculine presence and the way it filled up the room. He’d left his summer sports jacket in the car and had loosened the matching tie. His short dark hair set off his black eyebrows and arresting gray eyes. His well-built, six-foot frame revealed strong shoulder and arm muscles, and as he casually settled himself into a comfortable position, she resented that he was sending her thoughts into places where she’d placed permanent Keep Out signs.
Her tone was brisker than she’d intended when she said, “All right, I’m listening. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”
A flicker of expressions like shadows played across his face as he studied her without answering. Then, to her surprise, instead of speaking, he rose abruptly to his feet and walked over to the window. The way he stood there, staring out, she realized that he was experiencing some kind of emotional turmoil of his own. She’d seen patients caught in that same kind of mental maze, and she remained silent, waiting for him to respond.
He stood there for what seemed like an eternity before he turned around and repeated, “What is this all about?”
He walked back to the couch and sat down again. “This is about Marietta.”
“Marietta?” Carolyn echoed.
“My late wife. I lost her. She suffered a cruel and painful death.”
During her internship at the hospital, she’d seen grief of many kinds. Some people wore the loss of a loved one on the outside, like a mourning cloak, while others held their grief inside, deep and private. It was clear to her that this man’s filled the very breath and soul of his being. Until that moment she hadn’t really connected with him, but now she saw him from a different perspective, and she felt drawn to him on a level she didn’t understand.
“I’m so very sorry,” she said, and moved over to the couch beside him.
He searched her face as if to judge the sincerity of her words as he began to talk about himself. “After I graduated from law school, I took a position as judicial attaché at the United States