Every muscle in her body tensed.
Her strong, inexplicable, tangible reaction over a light brush of their hands mortified her.
Hiding her reaction beneath lowered lashes, she turned to go.
Reese’s voice stopped her at the threshold of his office. “Callie.”
She paused, looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“I still have more to say to you.”
Glory. That sounded ominous.
His footsteps struck the wood floor as he approached her from behind. Closer. Closer. He reached around her, grabbed the door as if to shut it, then quickly dropped his hand and stepped back.
Callie felt a cold rush of air sweep over her.
“I prefer not to speak to your back.”
She turned around to face him.
He leaned toward her, a mere fraction closer. “I wanted to tell you...” His words trailed off as he considered her through slightly narrowed eyes. “That is, have a nice day.”
Have a nice day? Reese had asked her to face him so he could tell her to have a nice day?
Perplexed, she gave up all pretense of control and gaped at the confounding man. If she was wise, she would turn around again and walk out the door. After, of course, she issued the same nonsensical platitude he’d just given her.
Or...
She could be a little more daring. She could tap in to the woman she’d been long ago, before a secret scandal had nearly ruined her.
“No, Reese.” She took a step toward him. “I will not have a nice day.”
A single, winged eyebrow lifted in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“I have five brothers,” she said in way of explanation. “Three older and two younger.”
Now both eyebrows rose.
It was a very intimidating look. Dark, brooding, slightly dangerous. Most women would be cowed. Callie was not. “I know precisely when a man is skirting around the truth.”
“Did you just call me out for lying?”
At the sound of his masculine outrage, mutiny swept through her, making her bolder than she’d been in a very long time.
“Take it however you will. But I’m not leaving this office until you tell me exactly why you really asked to speak with me—” she closed the distance between them and pinned him with her gaze “—and why you requested to do so in private.”
* * *
Reese’s chest felt odd. His pulse quickened in his veins. His throat tightened. All because this woman, a woman he’d known for years, had morphed into a completely different creature than the docile, overly polite, levelheaded wallflower she presented to the world.
The transformation had nothing to do with the clothes she wore. And everything to do with the woman herself.
Proud and defiant now, her unwavering gaze locked with his. She was clearly waiting for him to explain himself, to tell her why he’d requested a private word with her.
He couldn’t remember why. He could barely organize his thoughts beyond the shocked realization that the woman leaning toward him with a fierce scowl on her face was a total stranger.
Callie Mitchell usually drifted along the edges of most rooms, never drawing attention to herself, never making waves. At the moment, that woman was nowhere to be found.
On the surface, she’d changed nothing but her dress. Yet now, Reese saw the woman beneath the dull facade. A little wilder, a tad more dangerous, exciting and—
“Reese?”
He’d been staring too long.
He opened his mouth, then shut it again as several voices rang out from the hallway. Not wanting an audience, Reese reached to take Callie’s arm. He dropped his hand before making contact. Touching her would be a terrible idea.
The worst of all terrible ideas.
He motioned her deeper into the office with a nod of his head. He did not, however, close the door behind her.
There was privacy. And then there was privacy.
“Please, Callie, take a seat.” He indicated the set of chairs facing his desk.
She nodded, moving through the room with exaggerated dignity, her steps graceful yet carefully monitored.
Always so controlled, he thought, always hiding behind a veil of self-possession and restraint.
How well he understood.
The realization they had that in common left him vaguely disturbed.
Her posture perfectly precise, she lowered into the burgundy wing-back chair facing his desk and placed the leather satchel upon her lap.
After a moment of consideration, Reese chose to sit in the empty chair beside her.
She twisted her hands together. With all emotion stripped from her face, she nearly fooled him into thinking she was completely self-possessed. But her gaze didn’t quite meet his, landing instead on a spot just above his right eye.
She was nervous.
Good to know he wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy.
Now that he had Callie alone—mostly—Reese wasn’t sure how to broach the subject that had been nagging at him for some time now. The direct approach was always best. “We need to discuss the changing nature of our relationship.”
Her gaze whipped to his and he noted, somewhat inappropriately, that her eyelashes were long, utterly enchanting and several shades darker than her blond hair.
“I wasn’t aware we had a relationship.”
He frowned at her stiff tone, oddly irritated. “Of course we do.” It was awkward and uncomfortable, to be sure, but existed all the same. “Now that you are Mrs. Singletary’s companion and I’m once again in charge of her business affairs, our paths will cross often.”
“Mrs. Singletary said the same thing just this morning.” She lowered her gaze. “My brother taking that job in St. Louis has brought changes to all our lives.”
Before now, Reese hadn’t considered what the attorney’s departure meant to Callie. “You miss him.”
“Very much.” She worked her hands together in her lap. “I also miss his wife, Molly.”
“You two were close?”
“Oh, yes, but not as close as—” She broke off, drew her bottom lip between her teeth, looked everywhere but at him.
“Not as close as you and Fanny,” he finished for her.
She nodded. “I miss her most of all.”
“That’s understandable. You are sisters. And the only two girls in a large family of boys.” As an only child he couldn’t imagine what it was like to grow up with that many siblings.
“Fanny has always been my best friend.” She met his gaze. “We are only eleven months apart in age.”
Reese tried not to show his surprise, even as he did a mental calculation. He’d always thought Callie far older than her sister. Her maturity, her outer calm and, of course, her ability to control her emotions were qualities he attributed to a woman far older than twenty-three.
“Have you heard from your sister recently?”
“No.” She shook her head. “She has not answered any of my letters.”
“None of them?”
“Not one.”
That