Chapter Thirty

Audrey threw off her light quilt and stalked to the bedroom window. There was a half moon, bright and cool, poised above the tallest tower in the city skyline, a glowing ornament atop the glittering skyline. The moon seemed close enough to pluck it free from the stars. Audrey sat on a throw pillow and leaned her forearms on the windowsill. Despite the illusion, she was no closer to the moon than she was to restful sleep. Or to some internal resolution to her feelings for Dennis.

She’d overreacted about the pictures of Katherine, letting her shock mushroom into self-abasement, but the thought gave her no comfort at all. She’d behaved like a frightened child all because his late wife had been pretty. Well, of course she’d been pretty. Dennis would hardly marry a frump. Not his style at all.

Why had she run? She wasn’t the type to back down. But it was so overwhelming, all these confused feelings for Dennis. She had to sort this out and face her truth.

She’d never known a man like him. She thought back to the time when she dismissed him as a silly, critical man with a fondness for memo-writing, before she knew his pure dedication to Cole was guided by grief and worry, not some irrational need to micromanage every detail. Now she knew him better and wished she didn’t. It had been so easy when she could laugh at Dennis and forget about him.

But forgetting him would be much harder now that she knew him. He’d been kind, uptight at times, but also generous and considerate. He embodied so many of the characteristics she valued, brains, ambition, tenacity, compassion, and success. He’d earned the praise and loyalty of his staff and the adoration of his son. And being near him made her skin shiver with longing.

Audrey leaned her chin on her forearms and a heavy lock of hair fell over her shoulder. That kiss, that searing, aching, explosive kiss, was something else she’d have a hard time forgetting. She’d never been kissed like that before.

But Dennis had been unable to claim that first kiss until he’d downed enough wine to make a lumberjack wobble. Liquid courage. She’d tried to signal her willingness. She’d leaned toward him, smiled, and teased him, all the girly things, but he didn’t even notice. Was she that bad at flirting? Out of practice, sure, but was she just plain bad at it? She didn’t even bother with pretty clothes or makeup. She used to love that sort of thing, but tending toddlers made it impractical to wear her best things.

No wonder she felt so confused and out of her element. No wonder she felt so frumpy and hopeless compared to Dennis’s wife. One minute she was a successful businesswoman, the next a frightened nanny. One minute she thought Dennis might desire her, and the next she looked down and saw Cole’s finger paints on her pants and his snack crumbs in her hair. She was a whirling mess in more ways than one.

A long bath was just what she needed to refresh her. She selected her most delicate robe, a creamy silk kimono that floated against her skin. She sprinkled a generous dose of scented bath oil into the warm water. Just for good measure, she poured a dollop of bubble bath under the faucet and watched the water foam. With candles lit and a fashion magazine in hand, she slipped into the warm water and felt her whole body sigh. This was heaven. She felt almost like a woman again.

She leafed through the magazine ads for lipstick and skirts. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Dennis. He was wonderful in so many ways. Darkly handsome with an erotic, smoldering gaze, he had only to look at her and she felt herself begin to droop and melt in a feminine, yielding way. But his presence was also galvanizing, especially when they talked over business matters. He’d proved himself far more considerate than she’d expected. Sometimes he was even fun. Yes, there were reasons to justify her simmering attraction to Dennis Delaney.

But just the same, he sometimes reverted to that uptight, closed demeanor that set her nerves on edge. She feared that one of these evenings, she would reach her breaking point and tell him in the meticulous detail he craved exactly what she thought of his moods. True, there was far more to him than that. But it was hard to reconcile the way he continually veered from kindness to coldness. If only she could understand his mood swings better, she could easily fall in love with him.

Fall in love. Now there was a scary thought. She was no prissy virgin, but her previous liaisons had been more like affairs of convenience than affairs of the heart. Dennis was different from any other man she’d known. He just was. He reached her in ways her past boyfriends never could. She just wished he didn’t get so grumpy and stiff.

And she wished she knew how to reach him. She ran from him, sure, but he also shut down on her sometimes. Maybe they were both having some strong reactions that they didn’t exactly know what to do about.

With a frustrated sigh, she sunk lower into the soothing water and turned the page in her magazine. The headline read, “Your Fashion Profile: Are You a Seductive Siren or a Tinsel Tart?” Audrey scanned the list of multiple choice questions. Shoes, sensible. Skirts, nonexistent. Fragrance, forget about it unless grape jelly counted. She flipped to the answer key. “Somebody better call 9-1-1, because you are in need of a fashion doctor. Stat!”

She threw the magazine onto the floor. She couldn’t help it if her temporary job required her to look dowdy. Someday maybe Dennis would see her dressed like a woman and would be overcome by her feminine wiles. He would fall to his knees and declare his unending passion for her, all because of a perfect pedicure and strappy sandals. And then he’d never, ever again freeze up on her.

Yeah, right.

Wait a minute.

Only a fool keeps doing the same thing and expecting different results.

She pulled the plug and leaped out of the water. If she really wanted to reach Dennis, she had to find a way to do that. Soon. No more running, no more dowdy nanny covered in goo. So she tossed her robe on over her damp skin and strode to her closet. She’d already laid out jeans and a plain knit shirt for tomorrow, but that was no good. Her white chiffon robe glowed in the light from the moon and the Chicago skyline. With her newfound sense of mission, she felt like an avenging goddess, light and alive and ready to go to war. She flipped on her closet light with a determined grin.

Dennis Delaney, brace yourself. I’m either going to win you or go down fighting.