Somehow a business meeting before my dad's funeral seemed entirely appropriate. He would have liked it. I'd been struggling with the proposal for the scientists with the lightweight metal, wanting to make sure I went in with exactly what they wanted. Then I decided to take a different route. I went in with very little in the way of numbers. I brought them a list of the ways I could help them get their product into production and into the marketplace. I let them tell me the numbers that worked for them. They were thrilled to have the money ball in their court, and in the end, their suggestion was more than reasonable. We were both fledgling companies, after all.

I walked inside my house. The scent of soap drifted down the hallway. I followed it and the sound of Shay humming to the master bath. I knocked lightly and then pushed open the door.

Shay's shoulders and breasts were dotted with mounds of bubbles as she looked up from the soak tub. She lifted a fluffy bunch of bubbles on her palm. "I think I put in just a touch too much bubble bath."

I sat on the edge of the tub. "You're right. This is too many bubbles." I swept my hand through the warm water, temporarily clearing the surface and giving me a clear view of her naked body. "That's better."

She leaned back and rested her arms on the edge of the tub, lifting her breasts for me to see. "How did the meeting go?"

I nodded. "Great. I think they'll be my first client."

"So your new approach worked?"

"It did." I'd found myself talking to Shay about every aspect of my life, things I never would have talked to other people about, but it seemed natural. And I liked it. I liked talking to her. I liked having her there to hear my thoughts. Just as much as I enjoyed hearing hers. I never confessed to her that I followed her the day she went to visit her grandmother. It would only upset her. It would prove to her that I was a controlling idiot, something I was going to work hard to change.

She shifted in the tub, looking around for her towel. "You should probably get ready for the funeral. I'll clear out of your bathroom."

"There's time and frankly, this is nice, watching you bathe." I picked up the sponge floating in the tub and filled it with water. I drained it over her shoulder and watched the warm, soapy water cascade over her skin.

"You know, I was thinking—" She relaxed back and let the warm water pour over her. "I can come with you to the funeral."

I looked at her.

"You know, in case you need a friend. Never mind. I know you don't need me to go. I just wanted you to know that if you needed me—"

"Yes," I said far too quickly. "I mean yes, I'd like you to go. If you don't mind. It will be very small. It's what my dad wanted."

Whenever she smiled, even faintly, a small line creased the side of her mouth. I'd grown used to seeing it.

"Do you think that woman"—she shook her head—"Your mom will be there?"

I stared down into the prisms of light created on the surface of the bubbles. I'd asked myself the same question a hundred times. "I don't know."

Shay pushed to standing in the bath and I allowed myself the brief luxury of watching the bubbles slip down her wet skin. Then I walked over and grabbed the towel off the hook.

She gazed at me with expressive brown eyes as I reached behind her with the towel. I pulled it shut around her, taking care not to touch her skin. But it no longer had anything to do with losing a million dollars. This was new. I was afraid to touch her. My feelings for her grew stronger each day and I was sure a touch, one simple touch was going to take me over the edge. None of this was what I'd expected when I came up with this crazy plan. Shay wasn't what I'd expected.

The warmth from the hot bath radiated off of her skin as I pinched the towel closed around her. She seemed stunned by my actions. Frankly, I was too. It had started out as a polite gesture with a towel, but it left me short of breath and realizing just how badly I wanted to take care of her. When I'd first told her the details of the two week plan, she'd asked what the consequences would be if I fell in love with her. Knowing that I was a cold-hearted jerk without the ability to fall in love or form an emotional attachment, I'd brushed it off.

Shay tucked the towel tightly around her. "I'll get dressed." She stopped halfway to the door. "Uh, I think I have a dress that will work for the occasion. The stuff in the closet might be sort of inappropriate for a funeral."

"Anything is fine, Shay."

"Nash"—she paused again—"I got the house in Alta Dena. I can move in next week."

I nodded. "That's good." I tried to show an ounce of enthusiasm, but it just wasn't working. "I know you were hoping to get that place."

"Yes. It'll be perfect for me." She walked out.