CHAPTER THREE

“IT WAS THE MOST embarrassing moment of my entire life,” Robin repeated for the third time. She was sitting at the kitchen table, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands and weep.

“You’ve already said that,” Jeff grumbled.

“What possessed you to even think about going into Mr Camden’s yard again? Honestly, Jeff, you’ve been warned not to at least half a dozen times. What do I have to do? String barbed wire between our yards?”

Although he’d thoroughly disgraced himself, Jeff casually rotated the rim of his baseball cap between his fingers. “I said I was sorry.”

A mere apology in no way compensated for the humiliation Robin had suffered when Cole had found her down on all fours, crawling through his laurel hedge. If she lived to be an old woman, she would never forget the look on his face.

“You put me on television and phone restriction already,” her son reminded her.

The punishment could be another mistake to add to her growing list. At times like this, she wished Lonny were there to advise her. She needed him, and even after all these years, still missed him. Often, when there wasn’t anyone else around, Robin found herself talking to Lonny, discussing things. Without television and the phone, the most attractive form of entertainment left open to her son was playing with Blackie, which was what had got him into trouble in the first place.

“Blackie belongs to Mr Camden,” Robin felt obliged to tell him. Again.

“I know,” Jeff said, “but he likes me. When I come home from school, he goes crazy. He’s real glad to see me, and since there aren’t a whole lot of boys in this neighborhood—” he paused as if she were to blame for that “—Blackie and I have this understanding. We’re buds.”

“That’s all fine and dandy, but you seem to be forgetting that Blackie doesn’t belong to you.” Robin stood and opened the refrigerator, taking out a package of chicken breasts.

“I wish he was my dog,” Jeff grumbled. In an apparent effort to make peace, her son walked over to the cupboard, removed two plates and proceeded to set the table.

After dinner, while Robin was doing the dishes, the doorbell chimed. Jeff raced down the hallway to answer it even before Robin could dry her hands. Her son returned a moment later with Cole Camden at his side.

Her neighbour was the last person Robin had expected to see—and the last person she wanted to see.

“Mom,” Jeff said, nodding toward Cole, “it’s Mr Camden.”

“Hello, again,” she managed, striving for a light tone, and realizing even as she spoke that she’d failed. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’d like to talk to both of you about—”

Not giving him the opportunity to continue, Robin nodded so hard and fast she nearly dislocated her neck. “I really am sorry about what happened. I’ve had a good long talk with Jeff and, frankly, I understand why you’re upset and I don’t blame you in the least. You’ve been more than understanding about this whole unfortunate episode and I want you to know there won’t be a repeat performance of what happened today.”

“From either of you?”

“Absolutely,” she said, knowing her cheeks were as red as her fingernail polish. Did he have to remind her of the humiliating position he’d found her in earlier?

“Mom put me on television and phone restriction for an entire week,” Jeff explained sheepishly. “I promise not to go into your fort again, Mr Camden. And I promise not to go in my backyard after school, either, because Blackie sees me and gets all happy and excited—and I guess I get all happy and excited, too—and that’s when I do what I’m not supposed to do.”

“I see.” Cole smiled down at Jeff. Robin found it a rather unusual smile. It didn’t come from his lips so much as his eyes. Once more she witnessed a flash of pain, and another emotion she could only describe as longing. Slowly his gaze drifted to Robin. When his dark eyes met hers, she suddenly found herself short of breath.

“Actually I didn’t come here to talk to you about what happened earlier this afternoon,” Cole explained. “I’m going to be out of town for the next couple of days, and since Jeff and Blackie seem to get along so well I thought Jeff might be willing to look after him. That way I won’t have to put him in the kennel. Naturally I’m prepared to pay your son for his time and effort. If he’ll agree, I’ll let him play in the fort while I’m away.”

Jeff’s eyes grew rounder than Robin could ever remember seeing them. “You want me to watch Blackie?” he asked, his voice incredulous. “And you’re going to pay me? Can Blackie spend the night here? Please?”

“I guess that answers your question,” Robin said, smiling.

“Blackie can stay here if it’s OK with your mom,” Cole told Jeff. Then he turned to her. “Would that create a problem for you?”

Once more his gaze held hers, and once more she experienced that odd breathless sensation.

“I…No problem whatsoever.”

Cole smiled then, and this time it was a smile so potent, so compelling, that it sailed straight through Robin’s heart.

* * *

“MOM,” JEFF HOLLERED as he burst through the front door late Thursday afternoon. “Kelly and Blackie and I are going to the fort.”

“Kelly? Surely this isn’t the girl named Kelly, is it? Not the one who lives next door?” Robin couldn’t resist teasing her son. Apparently Jeff was willing to have a “pesky” girl for a friend, after all.

Jeff shrugged as he opened the cookie jar and groped inside. He frowned, not finding any cookies left and removed his hand, his fingertips covered with crumbs that he promptly licked off. “I found out Kelly isn’t so bad.”

“Have you got Blackie’s leash?”

“We aren’t going to need it. We’re playing Sam Houston and Daniel Boone, and the Mexican army is attacking. I’m going to smuggle Blackie out and go for help. I can’t use a leash for that.”

“All right, just don’t go any farther than the Alamo and be back by dinnertime.”

“But that’s less than an hour!” Jeff protested.

Robin gave him one of her don’t-argue-with-me looks.

“But I’m not hungry and—”

“Jeff,” Robin said softly, widening her eyes just a bit, increasing the intensity of her look.

“You know, Mom,” Jeff said with a cry of undisguised disgust, “you don’t fight fair.” He hurried out the front door with Blackie trotting faithfully behind.

Smiling to herself, Robin placed the meat loaf in the oven and carried her coffee into the backyard. The early evening air was filled with the scent of spring flowers. A gentle breeze wafted over the budding trees. How peaceful it seemed. How serene. All the years of pinching pennies in order to save for a house of their own seemed worth it now.

Her gaze wandered toward Cole Camden’s yard. Jeff, Kelly and Blackie were inside the fort, and she could hear their raised voices every now and again.

Cole had been on her mind a great deal during the past couple of days; she’d spent far too much time dwelling on thoughts of her neighbour—about his reputation in the neighbourhood and the son he’d lost.

The tranquillity of the moment was shattered by the insistent ringing of the phone. Robin walked briskly to the kitchen, set her coffee on the counter and reached for the receiver.

“Hello.”

“Robin, it’s Angela. I’m not catching you at a bad time, am I?”

“No,” Robin assured her. Angela worked in the same department as Robin, and over the years the two had become good friends. “What can I do for you?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know.

“I’m calling to invite you to dinner—”

“On Saturday so I can meet your cousin Frank,” Robin finished, rolling her eyes. Years before, Angela had taken on the task of finding Robin a husband. Never mind that Robin wasn’t interested in meeting strangers! Angela couldn’t seem to bear the thought of anyone spending her life alone and had appointed herself Robin’s personal matchmaker.

“Frank’s a really nice guy,” Angela insisted. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong, you know I wouldn’t.”

Robin restrained herself from reminding her friend of the disastrous date she’d arranged several weeks earlier.

“I’ve known Frank all my life,” Angela said. “He’s decent and nice.”

“Decent” and “nice” were two words Robin had come to hate. Every man she’d ever met in this kind of arrangement was either decent or nice. Or both. Robin had come to think the two words were synonymous with dull, unattractive and emotionally manipulative. Generally these were recently divorced men who’d willingly placed themselves in the hands of family and friends to get them back into circulation.

“Didn’t you tell me that Frank was recently divorced?” Robin asked.

“Yes, about six months ago now.”

“Not interested.”

“What do you mean you’re not interested?” Angela demanded.

“I don’t want to meet him. Angela, I know you mean well, and I apologise if I sound like a spoilsport, but I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to nurse the fragile egos of recently divorced men. Most of the time they’re emotional wrecks.”

“But Frank’s divorce was final months ago.”

“If you still want me to meet him in a year, I’ll be more than happy to have you arrange a dinner date.”

Angela released a ragged sigh. “You’re sure?”

“More than sure. Positive.”

A short disappointed silence followed. “All right,” Angela murmured in obvious frustration. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right,” Robin said, and because she felt guilty, she added, “I’ll bring the coffee.”

“OK.”

Robin lingered in the kitchen, frowning. She hated it when her friends put her on the spot this way. It was difficult enough to say no, but knowing that Angela’s intentions were genuine made it even worse. Just as she was struggling with an attack of guilt, the phone rang again. Angela! Her friend must have suspected that Robin’s offer to buy the coffee was a sign that she was weakening.

Gathering her fortitude, Robin seized the receiver and said firmly, “I’m not interested in dating Frank. I don’t want to be rude, but that’s final!”

Her abrupt words were followed by a short shocked silence, and then, “Robin, hello, this is Cole Camden.”

“Cole,” she gasped, closing her eyes. “Uh, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. A friend.” She slumped against the wall and covered her face with one hand. “I have this friend who’s keen on arranging dates for me, and she doesn’t take no for an answer,” Robin quickly explained. “I suppose you have friends wanting to arrange dates for you, too.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

Of course he didn’t. No doubt there were women all over San Francisco who longed to date Cole. He didn’t require a personal matchmaker. All someone like him had to do was look interested and women would flock to his side.

Her hand tightened around the receiver and a sick weightless feeling attacked the pit of her stomach. “I apologise. I didn’t mean to shout in your ear.”

“You didn’t.”

“I suppose you called to talk to Jeff,” she said. “He’s with Blackie and Kelly—Kelly Lawrence, the little girl who lives on the other side of us.”

“I see.”

“He’ll be back in a few minutes, if you’d like to call then. Or if you prefer, I could run and get him, but he said something about sneaking out and going for help and—”

“I beg your pardon? What’s Jeff doing?”

“Oh, they’re playing in the fort, pretending they’re Houston and Daniel Boone. The fort is now the Alamo.”

He chuckled. “I see. No, don’t worry about chasing after him. I’d hate to see you waylaid by the Mexican army.”

“I don’t think I’d care for that myself.”

“How’s everything going?”

“Fine,” she assured him.

She must have sounded rushed because he added, “You’re sure this isn’t a bad time? If you have company…”

“No, I’m here alone.”

The short silence was broken by Cole. “So everything’s going all right with Blackie? He isn’t causing you any problems, is he?”

“Oh, no, everything’s great. Jeff lavishes him with attention. The two of them are together practically every minute. Blackie even sleeps beside his bed.”

“As you said, Jeff has a way with animals,” Cole murmured.

His laugh, so tender and warm, was enough to jolt her equilibrium. She had to pinch herself to remember that Cole was a prominent attorney, wealthy and respected. She was an accountant. A junior accountant at that.

The only thing they had in common was the fact that they lived next door to each other and her son was crazy about his dog.

The silence returned, only this time it had a relaxed, almost comfortable quality, as though neither wanted the conversation to end.

“Since Jeff isn’t around,” Cole said reluctantly, “I’ll let you go.”

“I’ll tell him you phoned.”

“It wasn’t anything important,” Cole said. “Just wanted to let you know when I’ll be back—late Friday afternoon. Will you be home?”

“Of course.”

“You never know, your friend might talk you into going out with Fred after all.”

“It’s Frank, and there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“Famous last words!”

“See you Friday,” she said with a short laugh.

“Right. Goodbye, Robin.”

“Goodbye, Cole.”

Long after the connection had been broken, Robin stood with her hand on the receiver, a smile touching her eyes and her heart.

* * *

“MOM, I NEED my lunch money,” Jeff called impatiently from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she answered. Mornings were crazy and always had been. In order to get to the Glen Park BART station on time, Robin had to leave the house half an hour before Jeff left for school.

“What did you have for breakfast?” she hollered down as she put the finishing touches on her makeup.

“Frozen waffles,” Jeff shouted back. “And don’t worry, I didn’t drown them in syrup and I rinsed off the plate before I put it in the dishwasher.”

“Rinsed it off or let Blackie lick it clean for you?” she asked, as she hurried down the stairs. Her son was busy at the sink and didn’t turn around to look at her.

“Blackie, honestly, is that maple syrup on your nose?”

At the sound of his name, the Labrador trotted over to her. Robin took a moment to stroke his thick fur, before fumbling for her wallet to give Jeff his lunch money.

“Hey, Mom, you look nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she grumbled. “I’m leaving now.”

“OK,” Jeff said without the slightest bit of concern. “You won’t be late tonight, will you? Remember Mr Camden’s due back.”

“I remember, and no, I won’t be late.” She grabbed her packed lunch and headed for the front door.

Even before Robin arrived at the subway station, she knew the day would drag. Fridays always did.

She was right. At six, when the subway pulled into the station, Robin felt as though she’d been away forty hours instead of the usual nine. She found herself hurrying and didn’t fully understand why. Cole was scheduled to return, but that didn’t have anything to do with her, did it? His homecoming wasn’t anything to feel nervous about, nor any reason to be pleased. He was her neighbour, and more Jeff’s friend than hers.

The first thing Robin noticed when she arrived on Orchard Street was Cole’s Porsche parked in the driveway of his house.

“Hi, Mom,” Jeff called as he raced across the lawn between the two houses. “Mr Camden’s back.”

“So I see.” She removed her keys from her purse and opened the front door.

Jeff followed her inside. “He said he’d square up with me later. I wanted to invite him to dinner, but I didn’t think I should without asking you first.”

“That was smart,” she said, depositing her jacket in the cupboard on her way into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and took out the thawed hamburger and salad makings.

“How was your day?” she asked.

Jeff sat down at the table and propped his elbows on it. “All right, I guess. What are you making for dinner?”

“Taco salad.”

“How about just tacos? I don’t understand why you want to ruin a perfectly good dinner by mixing green stuff with it.”

Robin paused. “I thought you liked my taco salad.”

Jeff shrugged. “It’s all right, but I’d rather have just tacos.” Once that was made clear, he cupped his chin in his hands. “Can we rent a video tonight?”

“I suppose,” Robin returned absently as she added the meat to the onions browning in the skillet.

“But I get to choose this time,” Jeff murmured. “Last week you picked out a musical.” He wrinkled his nose as if to suggest being forced to watch men and women sing and dance was the most disgusting thing he’d ever had to endure.

“Perhaps we can find a compromise,” she suggested.

Jeff nodded. “As long as it doesn’t have a silly love story in it.”

“OK,” Robin said, doing her best not to betray her amusement. Their difference in taste when it came to movies was legendary. Like most boys his age Jeff preferred gory thrillers, while Robin couldn’t bear to rent anything violent. Unfortunately, her son was equally offended by the sight of men and women staring longingly into each other’s eyes.

The meat was simmering in the skillet when Robin glanced up and noted that her son’s look was surprisingly thoughtful. “Is something troubling you?” she asked, and popped a thin tomato slice into her mouth.

“Have you ever noticed that Mr. Camden never mentions he had a son?”

Robin set the paring knife against the cutting board. “It’s probably painful for him to talk about.”

Jeff nodded, and, with the innocent wisdom of youth, he whispered, “That man needs someone.”

* * *

THE MEAL WAS FINISHED, and Robin was standing in front of the sink rinsing off the dinner plates when the doorbell rang. Robin knew it had to be Cole.

“I’ll get it,” Jeff cried as he raced past her at breakneck speed. He threw open the door with enough enthusiasm to tear it from its hinges. “Hi, Mr Camden!” he said eagerly.

By this time Robin had smoothed her peach-coloured sweater over her slim hips and placed a friendly—but not too friendly—smile on her face. At the last second, she ran her fingers through her hair, striving for the casual I-didn’t-go-to-any-trouble look, then wondered at her irrational behaviour. Cole wasn’t coming over to see her.

Robin could hear Jeff chatting away at ninety miles an hour, telling Cole they were renting a movie and how Robin insisted that every show he saw had to have the proper rating, which he claimed was totally ridiculous. He went on to explain that she considered choosing the film a mother’s job and apparently a mere kid didn’t have rights. When there was a pause in the conversation, she could envision Jeff rolling his eyes dramatically.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the entryway and smiled. “Hello, Cole.”

“Robin.”

Their eyes met instantly. Dark brown sought out light blue. Robin’s first coherent thought was that a woman could get lost in eyes that dark and not even care. She swallowed tightly and lowered her gaze.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” she asked, having difficulty dragging the words out of her mouth.

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“It isn’t.” At least it wouldn’t be if she could stop her heart from pounding so furiously.

“Where’s Blackie?” Jeff demanded, opening the screen door and glancing outside.

“I didn’t bring him over. I thought you’d be thoroughly tired of him by now.”

“Tired of Blackie?” Jeff cried. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“I take it I should have known better,” Cole teased.

Robin returned to the kitchen and took mugs from the cupboard, using these few moments to compose herself.

The screen door slammed, and a moment later Cole appeared in her kitchen. “Jeff went over to my house to get Blackie.”

She smiled and nodded. “Do you take cream or sugar?” she asked, tossing the question over her shoulder.

“Just black, thanks.”

Robin normally drank hers the same way. But for some reason she couldn’t begin to fathom, she added a generous teaspoonful of sugar to her own, stirring briskly as though she feared it wouldn’t dissolve.

“I hope your trip went well,” she said, carrying both mugs into the family room where Cole had chosen to sit.

“Very well.”

“Good.” She sat a safe distance from him, across the room in a wooden rocker, and balanced her mug on her knee. “Everything went without a hitch around here, but I fear Jeff may have spoiled Blackie a bit.”

“From what he said, they did everything but attend school together.”

“Having the dog around has been wonderful for him. I appreciate your giving Jeff this opportunity. Not only does it satisfy his need for a dog, but it’s taught him about responsibility.”

The front door opened and the canine subject of their conversation shot into the room, followed by Jeff, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Mom, would it be all right if Mr Camden stayed and watched the movie with us?”

“Ah…” Caught off guard, Robin didn’t know what to say. After being away from home several days, watching a move with his neighbours probably held a low position on Cole’s list of priorities.

To Robin’s surprise, Cole’s eyes searched hers as though seeking her approval.

“You’d be welcome…I mean, you can stay if you’d like, unless there’s something else you’d rather do. I mean, I’d…we’d like it if you did, but…” She let whatever else she might have said fade away. She was making a mess of this, and every time she tried to smooth it over, she only stuck her foot further down her throat.

“What movie have you rented?”

“We haven’t yet,” Jeff explained. “Mom and me had to come to an understanding first. She likes the mushy stuff and gets all bent out of shape if there’s a little blood. You wouldn’t believe the love story she forced me to watch last Friday night.” His voice dipped with renewed disgust.

“How about if you and I go rent the movie while your mother and Blackie make the popcorn?”

Jeff’s blue eyes brightened immediately. “That’d be great, wouldn’t it, Mom?”

“Sure,” she agreed, and was rewarded by Jeff’s eager smile.

Jeff and Cole left a few minutes later. It was on the tip of her tongue to give Cole instructions on the type of movie appropriate for a ten-year-old boy, but she swallowed her concerns, willing to trust his judgement. Standing on the porch, she watched as the two climbed inside Cole’s expensive sports car. She pressed her hand to her throat, grateful when Cole leaned over the front seat and snapped Jeff’s seat belt snugly in place. Her son must have commented on how Robin made him wear a seat belt, too, because Cole’s gaze flew to her. She raised her hand in farewell, and Cole did the same. It was a simple gesture, yet Robin felt as if they’d communicated so much more than a simple farewell.

“Come on, Blackie,” Robin said, “let’s go start the popcorn.” The devoted Lab trailed behind her as she returned to the kitchen. She set the old battered pot on the stove and turned on the burner, heating a generous amount of vegetable oil, then adding kernels. It was while she was waiting for the first few to pop that the words slipped from her mouth.

“Well, Lonny, what do you think?” Talking to her dead husband came without conscious thought. It certainly wasn’t that she expected him to answer. Whenever she spoke to him, the words came spontaneously from the deep well of love they’d once shared. She supposed she should feel foolish doing it, but so many times over the long years since he’d died she had felt his presence and his love. Robin assumed that the reason she talked to him was born out of a need to discuss things with the one other person who’d loved her son as much as she did. In the beginning she was sure she needed to visit a psychiatrist or arrange for grief counselling, but later she convinced herself that every widow went through this in one form or another.

“He’s grown so much the past year, hasn’t he?” she asked, and smiled. “Meeting Cole has been good for Jeff. He lost a child, you know, and I suppose having Jeff move in next door answers a need for him, too.”

The first kernels of corn popped and Robin transferred her attention to the pot, gripping its faded black handle and shaking it gently.

A couple of minutes later, Jeff and Cole returned with a movie that turned out to be an excellent compromise—a teenage comedy that was surprisingly witty and entertaining.

Jeff sprawled on the carpet munching popcorn with Blackie by his side. Cole sat on the sofa and Robin chose the rocking chair. She removed her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her. She was enjoying the movie; in fact, several times she found herself laughing outright.

Cole and Jeff laughed, too. The sounds were contrasting—one deep and masculine, the other young and pleasantly boyish—yet they harmonised, blending with perfect naturalness.

Soon Robin found herself watching Jeff and Cole more than the movie. The two…no, the three of them were comfortable together. Robin didn’t try to read any significance into that. Doing so could prove emotionally dangerous, but the thought flew into her mind and refused to leave.

The credits were rolling when Cole pointed to Jeff, whose head was resting on his arms. For the first time, Robin noted that her son’s eyes were closed.

“He’s asleep,” Cole said softly.

Robin smiled and nodded. She got up to carry the empty popcorn bowls into the kitchen. Cole stood, too, taking their glasses to the sink, then returned to the family room to rewind the movie.

“Do you want me to carry him upstairs for you?” he asked, glancing down on the slumbering Jeff.

“No,” she whispered. “When he wakes up in the morning, he’ll think you treated him like a little kid. Egos are surprisingly fragile at ten.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

The silence felt as loud as thunder to Robin. Without Jeff, awake and chattering, as a buffer between them, she felt clumsy and self-conscious around Cole.

“It was nice of you to stay,” she said, more to fill the quiet than because she had anything important to communicate. “It meant a lot to Jeff.”

Jeff had mentioned that Cole had an active social life. Heather Lawrence had confirmed it by casually letting it drop that Cole was often away on weekends. Robin wasn’t entirely sure what to think about it all. If there was a woman in his life, that was his business, not hers.

“It meant a lot to me, too,” he said, standing in front of the VCR while he waited for the movie to finish rewinding.

The kitchen and family room, actually quite spacious, felt close and intimate with Cole standing only a few feet away.

Robin’s fingers were shaking as she stacked the bowls and soda glasses in the dishwasher. She tried to think of some bright and witty comment to make, but her mind was blank.

“I should be going.”

Was that reluctance she heard in his voice? Somehow Robin doubted it; probably wishful thinking on her part. Half of her wanted to push him out the door and the other half didn’t want him to leave so early. But there really wasn’t any reason for him to stay. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Blackie.” Cole called for his dog. “It’s time to go.”

The Lab didn’t look pleased with this turn of events. He took his own sweet time lumbering to his feet and stretching his long sleek body before trotting to Cole’s side.

Robin was about to open the door when she realised she hadn’t thanked Cole for getting the movie. She turned, and his dark eyes delved into hers. Whatever thoughts had been taking shape in her mind fled like leaves scattering in the wind. She tried to smile, however weakly, but it was difficult when he was looking at her so intently. His gaze slipped to her mouth, and in a nervous movement, she moistened her lips. Before she was fully aware of how it had happened, Cole’s fingers were in her hair and he was lifting her mouth to meet his.

His eyes held hers, as if he expected her to stop him, then they slowly closed and his mouth grazed hers. Robin’s eyes drifted shut, but that was the only response she made.

He kissed her again, even more gently than the first time. His lips were tender, and Robin moaned softly, not in protest, but in wonder and surprise. It had been so long since a man had kissed her like this. So long that Robin had forgotten the wealth of sensations a mere kiss could evoke. Her hands crept to his chest, and her fingers curled into the soft wool of his sweater. Hesitantly, timidly, her lips trembled beneath his, parting as the kiss blossomed. Cole sighed and took full possession of her mouth.

Robin sighed, too. The tears that welled in her eyes were a shock. She was at a loss to explain where they came from or why. They silently slipped down her face, and it wasn’t until she felt the moisture that she realized she was crying.

Cole must have felt the tears at the same moment as she had, because he abruptly broke off the kiss and raised his head. His eyes searched hers as his thumb brushed the moisture from her cheek.

“Did I hurt you?” The question was whispered.

She shook her head vehemently.

“Then why…?”

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t explain something she didn’t understand herself. Rubbing the heels of her hands across her eyes, she attempted to wipe away the evidence. She forced a smile and looked up at him. “I’m nothing if not novel,” she said with brittle cheerfulness. “I don’t imagine many women break into tears when you kiss them.”

Cole looked as confused as Robin felt.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” She wanted to reassure him, but was having too much trouble analyzing her own reactions to answer his doubts.

“Let’s sit down and talk about this.”

“No,” she said quietly. Adamantly. That was the last thing she wanted. “I’m sorry, Cole. I really am. This has never happened before and I’m at as much of a loss to understand it as you are.”

“But…”

“The best thing we can do is chalk it up to a long tiring work week.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Probably, but I’d prefer to just forget it. Please?”

“Are you all right?”

“Emotionally or physically?” She tried to joke, but didn’t succeed.

“Both.”

He was so serious, so concerned, that it was all Robin could do not to dissolve into a fit of fresh tears. She’d made a world-class fool of herself with this man, not once but twice.

This man, who had suffered such a tremendous loss himself, was so gentle, so tender with her, and instead of helping it only made matters worse. “I’m sorry, really I am,” she said raggedly, “but I think you should go home now.”