Into His Private Domain. Janice Maynard

was so sure, but she was. Maybe because hearing him say the number out loud was shocking.

      He took pity on her. “I have a charity that I created a long time ago. My furniture pieces are one of a kind… and for whatever reason some people are willing to shell out big bucks for them. So I make the furniture, cash the checks and put all the money to good use.”

      “What’s your charity?”

      His face closed up. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.” Any good humor he’d exhibited had evaporated. “I need to get back to work.”

      “Tell me what else you make,” she coaxed. “And for whom.”

      He let out an exaggerated, aggrieved sigh. “An armoire for a Middle Eastern sheikh. Windsor chairs for a Boston heiress. A desk for a former president….”

      “That’s amazing,” she said simply. “You must be phenomenally talented. Is this what you studied in school?”

      His expression darkened. “I earned a law degree at my father’s urging. But I found out pretty quickly that I wasn’t cut out for litigation. To show my dad what a badass I was, I enlisted in the army and did some time in Afghanistan.”