Christmas at Bravo Ridge. Christine Rimmer

On what?”

      “Long story. Mom, I swear I’ll be back by noon, in time to give Kira lunch and get her off to her ballet lesson—I mean, if you have an hour or two you can spare me…”

      “Well, I—”

      “Thanks.” He grabbed her in a hug. “You’re a lifesaver. I won’t be long, I promise.” He got his coat from the closet and grabbed his keys from the entry table.

      “Matthew…”

      “Thanks. I owe you.” He closed the door before she could ask him any more questions, thinking how he’d just added lying to his mother to his list of crappy behaviors lately.

      Too bad. He’d seen his chance to get Corrie alone and he was damn well taking it.

      Since it was Saturday, traffic was light. The drive to her house took fifteen minutes.

      He was on her porch with the key to her front door in his hand, ready to let himself in, when he caught himself. It just wasn’t right and he knew it. To bust in on her. She’d given him her key in case of emergency, not so he could break in and force her to talk to him. He’d probably scare ten years off her life, sneaking into her house when she wasn’t expecting him.

      Was she still sleeping? Now, that would be truly creepy of him, appearing in her bedroom, waking her up from a sound asleep. Echoes of dear old dad.

      No wonder his mom had fled to Corrie’s house, where Davis didn’t have a key—and yes, okay. He was willing to go pretty low to get Corrie talking to him again. But not that low.

      Matt pocketed the key and rang the bell—twice. The second time, he saw the blinds move at the front window and knew she’d spotted him. He was out of luck. Again.

      But then, incredibly, he heard the deadbolt turn and there she was in a fuzzy yellow robe and slippers to match. She had last night’s makeup smudged around her eyes and serious bed head. She did not look happy, but she did step aside so he could enter.

      She shut the door and raked her hair back off her face. “What did you tell your mom?”

      “That I needed to pick something up at the office.”

      “Liar.”

      He confessed all. “I said it might take a while, that there could be research.”

      “Research?”

      “That was her response, exactly.”

      She glared at him. “I haven’t returned your calls because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

      “I know.”

      She wrapped her robe tighter, retied the sash. “I guess I can’t go on not talking to you forever.”

      “I’m so damned relieved to hear you say that.”

      “So. Want some coffee?”

      “I do. I really do.”

      She led him into her warm, comfortable kitchen and gestured in the general direction of the table. He sat down and she loaded up the coffeemaker. Neither of them spoke till the coffee was made.