Seduced The Unexpected Virgin - By Emily McKay Page 0,29
Of having her fingers brush his when they both went for the same fry or having him reach across the table with his napkin to dab at the tzatziki sauce she dribbled on her chin.
It wasn’t until they were back in the car that she had the courage to ask the question she’d been plagued by ever since arriving in Charleston.
“Tell me something.” Her voice sounded strained, but she tightened her hands on the steering wheel and pressed on. “Cara died of breast cancer.”
She glanced in his direction, in the flickering light of the passing streetlight, she saw that he’d gone completely still. His expression was carefully blank.
She waited for him to respond, maybe to confirm what she already knew, but he said nothing, so she continued, “All the charities that the Cara Miller Foundation works with…none of them are cancer related. None for survivors or education or research—”
“That’s what she wanted,” he said abruptly.
Clearly, she’d crossed some sort of line. “I’m sor—”
“Don’t be. I—” Then he released a sigh of pent-up emotion. “I’m not used to talking about it.” Then he gave a wry chuckle. The kind without any humor at all. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I talk about her all the time. But I never talk about her cancer. She never wanted to honor the cancer. Didn’t want to give it an important place in her life. She figured it stole the last few years of her life, she wanted her death to be hers alone. She wanted her legacy to be helping children.”
Ana considered his words. In a way, it made sense. She’d known a makeup artist back in Hollywood, a cancer survivor who devoted all of her free time to volunteer work for the American Cancer Society. She did relays and fundraising. All her friends were people she’d met through support groups. They were an amazing and inspirational group of men and women. But cancer was like another member of their little group. A living, breathing entity that never left them. Honoring cancer. That was the perfect word for it.
So, yeah, Ana could understand why Cara hadn’t wanted that. Still, looking at Ward, she sensed he wasn’t wholly comfortable with his wife’s decision.
“But—” she prodded.
He slanted a look at her. “But what?”
“I just…” His gaze narrowed and she shrugged. “Yeah, that was her decision, but how did you feel about that?”
The second the question was out of her mouth, she regretted it. It was an intensely personal question. One she had no business asking and even less business knowing the answer to.
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, but the car was too dark for her to gauge his expression.
“It wasn’t my decision,” he said. After a minute, he added, “Besides, I like working with kids. They make it worth it.”
As she pulled to a stop at a light, she glanced at him in surprise. A smiled teased at his lips. His hands rested on his knees, tapping out a silent tune. She’d had to move the bench seat of the car close to the dash in order to reach the Hornet’s pedals and now there was barely room for his long legs, making her profoundly aware of how much bigger he was than she.
“Do you work with kids often?” she asked because it seemed a safer question than trying to press him for more answers about Cara. Crossing that line once was enough for one evening.
“Not often,” he answered. “I travel enough that I don’t want any kid depending solely on me. But sometimes it just makes sense. Like with Ricky.”
He threw out the name like Ricky was someone she should know. “Ricky?” she prodded.
“He wandered into Hannah’s Hope the other day, during a school day. He’s—I don’t know—thirteen, fourteen maybe.” Ward paused to gesture toward the coming intersection. “Turn left here.” Then he continued his story. “Oddly enough, he wanted information about how to get his mother signed up for the new GED prep class that Omar is going to be teaching. He’s worried about his mother’s job prospects.”
“That’s perceptive,” she said, shifting the Hornet into lower gear to pull out of the turn. “On the other hand, a lot of boys with single mothers are very protective of their moms.”
“I know I was,” Ward admitted.
She was tempted to press him for more information, but knew she’d pushed too much into his personal life for one night. “So you decided to mentor him?” she asked. “You were in town less than