Jacob's Proposal. Eileen Wilks

afraid so.”

      A single rose. Bloodred, the petals barely unfurled. She could see it so clearly. Red for passion, Ken used to tell her. Only one rose, always just the one. Because they were meant to be one. Claire’s fingers tightened on the receiver. “You didn’t see him?”

      “I wish I had. If I’d caught him—”

      “Dammit, Danny, do not do anything macho and stupid!”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll let your cop buddy know if the son of a bitch comes sneaking around. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to catch him at it, just so we could prove he’s violating parole.”

      The police wouldn’t consider a rose evidence of anything. She bit her lip and changed the subject, trying to push the fear down, where it wouldn’t show. To either of them. “Are you going to be home tonight, when I come get Sheba?”

      “I’ve got a meeting at seven, but I’ll be here after that. No more wild Friday nights for me,” he said wryly.

      His words warmed her. Danny just might make it work this time. She wasn’t fooling herself. He had a lot of hard work ahead, and he might fail and fall many times. But this time he was attending AA meetings because he wanted to, not because he needed to please or fool someone else. Like her. Or a judge.

      “How about you?” he asked. “Going to have a wild time tonight with your new boss, maybe?”

      “Hardly.”

      “You do have that haughty, duchess tone down pat. How long has it been since you went out on a real date, Claire?”

      “Come on, you know I don’t have the time or energy for much of a social life. I’m trying to get my consulting business off the ground.”

      “Your career’s an excuse. No, listen to me for a minute. You enjoy the money game, and you’re good at it. But at heart, you aren’t an ambitious person. You just like playing the game.”

      “Jut playing the game won’t pay the bills,” she said dryly. “And that, I do take seriously.”

      “You’re hiding, Claire. Just look at your clothes.”

      She bristled. If there was one thing she knew, it was how to dress. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

      “Those power suits of yours are just as much camouflage as the bag lady clothes you wore for a while.”

      “I realize you don’t get the whole dress-for-success concept, but take my word for it. I need to look professional. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, people do judge us on how we look.”

      His voice was sad. “I understand why you think that. But—oh, hell, Claire. Sometimes I miss you. The person you used to be, the cousin who laughed all the time and did crazy stuff just for the hell of it. The one who didn’t plan her life on a blasted spreadsheet.”

      Silence fell, trapping too much of the past between them. “That person made too many mistakes,” she said at last. Danny ought to know that. One of her impulses was partly responsible for the hell he’d been living in the past few years.

      “Maybe, but she was human. I’m learning a whole lot about being human and making mistakes these days. Claire…I’m glad you got out of this house, where Ken Lawrence can’t find you. Just don’t keep running away from him in other ways, too.”

      “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

      After she hung up, Claire took a deep, calming breath. Danny was wrong. He was one hundred percent wrong, and she was an idiot to let him upset her. She wasn’t running away. She was running to something—the future she’d been building and the person she was becoming: a woman who would never make the kind of mistakes that had wrecked more lives than just her own. No, she didn’t miss her old self at all.

      She took another slow breath, opened the door to the hall and stepped out—right into a solid male body.

      A startled shriek rose in her throat. She bit it back. Her head felt light and dizzy.

      “Whoa!” Two strong hands gripped her arms, steadying her.

      Not Jacob. That was her first thought, and she shook her head to rid herself of it. Not Jacob—and not Ken, either, of course. He couldn’t get to her here.

      This was a stranger.

      “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

      His hands dropped and his eyes widened. “Surely you aren’t Claire McGuire.”

      “I hate to disagree, but I am.”

      “Feel free to disagree with me anytime.” A smile grew in his eyes until it reached his mouth. “Especially when I say something stupid. Of course you’re Claire McGuire. I’m Michael West.”

      “Jacob’s brother?”

      “Guilty.”

      Michael was a good-looking man, but his features were even, not harsh, and rather Latin. His eyes were as dark as Jacob’s were pale—no resemblance there. His body, now…yes, physically he had something in common with his brother. Power. And control. “So you’re one of the two people Jacob was willing to talk to on my first day. Glad to meet you, Mr. West.”

      “Make it Michael, please. Or Mick. That way I won’t have to call you Ms. McGuire. Has Jacob been difficult?”

      “It varies. On a scale of teddy bear to grizzly, he usually hits somewhere between rattlesnake and wolverine.”

      Amusement deepened in his eyes. “Sounds as if you’re getting to know him quickly. Are you on your way to breakfast?”

      “Yes, Ada asked me to join her. And you?” She shouldn’t pump him for information about his brother, but if he happened to volunteer something…

      “Unfortunately I’ve already eaten. I’ve got a ten o’clock flight.”

      “Oh.” Looked like her curiosity was doomed to disappointment. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” She smiled. “I almost said ‘running into you,’ but that’s precisely what I did do, isn’t it?”

      “I didn’t mind that part.”

      She chuckled. “I’ll bet you were a hell-raiser as a kid.”

      “As a matter of fact, I was. I didn’t think I gave that impression these days, though.”

      “Oh, you don’t. But it takes one to know one.”

      He lifted his eyebrow. With that subtle shift, the resemblance she hadn’t seen before snapped into focus, and he looked very much like his brother. “Are you a hell-raiser?”

      “Not anymore, but when I was younger—well, who has any sense at eighteen? You remind me of my ‘making up for it’ period, when I was terribly serious about everything.”

      He studied her so gravely that she wondered if she’d offended him. “You know, I think I do have time for a quick cup of coffee before I leave. If you wouldn’t mind some company—?”

      “I’d love it.” She started down the hall with him, slanting him a mischievous glance. “I’ll bet Ada knows all sorts of stories about you and Jacob when you were boys.”

      “Just don’t mention the apple pie incident. Or anything from when I was a teenager. Or—hmm. Maybe it would be better if I left without a last cup of coffee, after all.”

      She laughed. “I think I’m going to like you, Michael. And there is no way I’ll let you duck out of that cup of coffee now.” Claire thrust aside all thought of the rose that had been left on her doorstep. She was safe for the moment. Ken had no way of finding her here.

      And if her haven was only temporary, then, like Scarlet, she’d worry about it tomorrow. Because there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it today.