“What about us, Kyle?”
“You’re a bunch of bleeding-heart liberals who believe they have all the answers to the world’s social ills.”
“Try sensitive, compassionate and benevolent.”
Looping one leg over the opposite knee, Kyle stared at the toe of his running shoe. He’d forgotten to add feisty. Bruised and obviously still in pain there was still a lot of fight in the sexy social worker. “Perhaps we can debate the merits of our professions over dinner or drinks—whichever you prefer.”
Ava recognized the silent expectation in the deep-set, slanting, catlike warm-brown eyes. Unable to tear her gaze away from Kyle’s chiseled cheekbones and close-cropped black hair with a sprinkling of gray, she wanted him to leave so she could get into bed. But she also wanted him to stay because it’d been a long time since she’d had the opportunity to talk to a man who wasn’t involved with the women or children on her caseload.
“Are you asking me out, Kyle Chatham?” He flashed the sensual smile she found so endearing.
“What does it sound like, Ava Warrick?”
She smiled through the dull throbbing in her head. “It sounds like a date.”
“Then it is. You were the one who said you wanted to make it up to me, and you can if you have dinner with me. Of course, when you’re feeling better,” he added.
Ava massaged her temples with her fingertips. “Okay.”
Pushing to his feet, Kyle walked over to Ava and cradled her chin in his hand. “Don’t bother setting your clock. I’ll call you.”
“There’s no need for you to do that.”
“Yes, there is,” he countered. “Someone’s supposed to check on you every two hours for the next twenty-four. Either you give me your number or I’ll hang out here until tomorrow.”
“Haven’t you done enough for me?”
“I just want to make certain you won’t renege on your promise to make it up to me.”
Ava swiped at his hand. “I never would’ve said so if I didn’t mean it.”
“That’s why I intend to keep you honest.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t. It’s not too often that lawyer and honest are uttered in the same breath.”
“See, Ava, that’s why we have to talk.” Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Kyle took out his cell phone. “Come now, give me the number to this place and your cell.” He programmed her name and both numbers, then leaned over and helped her stand. “Come and lock the door. I’ll talk to you in a couple of hours.”
She walked Kyle to the door, opened it and then closed it behind him. Ava tried putting what had happened over the past twelve hours into perspective but everything seemed to merge before coming apart like a thousand pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She knew she had to rest and wait for the pieces to come together.
It took twice as long as it normally did for her to shower and ready herself for bed, and instead of climbing the staircase to the second-floor bedroom, she selected one off the alcove near the kitchen. Carrying a cordless extension, she got into bed, pulled a sheet and lightweight blanket over her body and closed her eyes.
The incessant ringing of the telephone penetrated the comfort of her deep sleep, forcing Ava to open her eyes. The shades in the room were drawn, making it impossible for her to discern the time of day. Patting the mattress, her fingers curved around the receiver. She managed to find the Talk button after several attempts.
“Hello.” Her voice, still heavy from sleep, had dropped an octave.
“Ava, it’s Kyle.”
A dreamy smile parted her lips. His deep voice came through the earpiece like watered silk. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Kyle.”
“You sound sleepy. Did I wake you up?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Good?” she asked.
“Yes. That’s means you’re conscious.”
“I was sleeping, not unconscious, Kyle.”
“Thank goodness for that. Do you want me to call you again in another two hours?”
Ava sighed softly. “Call me again in four hours.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure, counselor.” She smiled when his laugh caressed her ear. “Thank you for checking up on me.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ll talk to you later.”
A click signaled that Kyle had hung up. Ava lay staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. She didn’t know why the lawyer had taken an interest in her well-being, and she didn’t want to believe he had an ulterior motive. When it came to men, her batting average hovered close to triple zeros.
It’d been more than a year since her last date and two years since a man had shared her bed. The only thing she’d missed when she’d ended her relationship with Will Marshall was the intimacy. The lovemaking between them ran the gamut from hot to cold depending on their interaction, yet there had never been a time when they got into bed together that they didn’t cuddle. Waking up, limbs entwined, was the perfect way to begin a day.
Ava knew she would’ve continued to cohabitate with her live-in lover if he hadn’t felt the need to monitor every aspect of her life. After a while she felt as if she were a parolee having to check in with her parole officer. In the end she had to leave Will or she would have fared no better than the victimized women she counseled.
She didn’t want to repeat her mother’s mistakes. Alice Warrick had fallen in love with and married a man to whom she’d surrendered her will. Charles Warrick made every decision for his wife and children until their youngest left home to go to college. A week later, Alice served her husband with divorce papers, citing emotional abuse and lack of communication. Alice’s decision to take control of her life was the impetus for Ava to leave her job as an elementary school teacher and go into social work.
The pounding in her forehead intensified, and Ava knew she had to get up and take some Tylenol. She’d predicted that she’d be out of work for a couple of days. But with this severe pain that made it nearly impossible to think clearly, she knew it would be longer. The note the neurosurgeon had given her said she’d be unable to return to work until she was medically cleared.
Ava went into the bathroom and after swallowing two Tylenol capsules with a full glass of water, she returned to the bedroom to lie across the bed. The medication worked quickly and when she closed her eyes she forgot about the pain and the incredibly handsome man who’d unknowingly become her knight in shining armor.
Chapter 3
Kyle walked out of his brownstone and into a blanketing fog so thick it was virtually impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him. The humidity intensified the different odors of the big city—the smell of fuel from passing cars and buses was magnified in the thick air.
In the past he’d taken the subway downtown to his office, but the days of taking the iron horse to work was relegated to the past. The brownstone where he’d set up his office was less than a mile away, and he usually made the walk from 139th Street and Frederick Douglass Boulevard to 121st Street and Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard in under half an hour.
On the days he jogged, he made it in ten minutes. The closet in his private office was filled with suits, slacks, shirts, jackets, ties and underwear. An adjoining full bathroom was stocked with his favorite cologne and grooming supplies.
Lately Kyle found himself spending more hours at the brownstone