When the Heart Lies - By Christina North Page 0,20

and your son in a lot of danger. You seem smarter than that.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve done dumber things.” She said animatedly, accompanied by her shaking head. “Look, it’s complicated. My concern isn’t with Nick and me. It’s about Max being with his father. Wow, sorry. Rule number one, don’t talk about ex’s on the first date.”

“Is this a date?” It was a hopeful statement but came out sounding questionable. He squeezed his eyes closed and grimaced with a half shake of his head for making the remark. “I guess it is, and it’s unique like you.” He hoped to ease her embarrassment.

She lowered her eyes. “I’m not sure what this is. I don’t know why I said that.”

“I guess what matters most is we’re here. More wine?”

She nodded, and he poured.

A little too often.

“You’re a good listener,” she said, adding a shy smile.

“When I’m interested. With you, it’s the unspoken thoughts I’m curious about. Obviously, you don’t like this guy. Are you safe with him?"

She lowered her head slightly and waived the comment away. “I’d rather not talk about Wayde.” Her forefinger began to trace the pattern of the watermark on the table beside her. After a few circles around the mark, she sighed, appearing bored with the distraction. “I wanted to call him today.”

“Wayde?”

“No, Nick. I guess I wanted him to rescue me. I need to stop expecting a rescue. I’m realizing I should try to get out of this predicament on my own and forget about Nick.” She blinked, and he could tell she held back tears.

He swung his feet from the top of the table and leaned forward holding his hands between his legs. “My interest is piqued. You said you’ve done dumber things. What could be crazier than running off with a stranger?”

She rested her elbow on the arm of the chair, her hand cradling her forehead. She kept her head lowered when she spoke. “On my knees, swallowing a bottle of pills, crying like a beggar for my husband’s love.” She lifted her head, and her eyes met his. “Did I really just say that to a stranger?”

Holy shit. It was quite a disclosure. He extended his hand, beckoning her with two fingers. “Come.”

After a moment, she got up from the chair and went to him. He took her hand. Their eyes connected. He could feel the bond, and all at once, it made him whole and broken at the same time. For a woman so beautiful, she had little confidence, and after sharing her reasons for being there, he wasn’t surprised.

He patted the space beside him. “Sit with me.”

She sat down beside him, keeping her head lowered a bit. He pulled her close. Her gaze met his, and tears started to roll down her bright red cheeks. He could see she was humiliated. He lifted his hand to her face and wiped the tears with his thumb. His eyes drifted toward her lips. He held back the desire to kiss them and instead pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’ll be okay.” It was his job to make sure she was. They talked intimately a while longer, and he continued holding her; she drifted off to sleep. Her lightweight body relaxed and sank deeper into his arms. Eventually, he dozed off, too, feeling peace that had been absent for so long.

He awoke, and sensing the late hour, took in a deep breath, admonishing his lack of good sense. His movement roused her, and her hair brushed his cheek. Its clean, fresh smell prompted him to lean in and breathe deeper this time. Their soft warm bodies burrowed closer, and he held her in his arms, observing her as she slept. He’d let her drink too much. So many times, he had imagined being with her this way. He glanced at his watch. Already three-thirty, a few more minutes wouldn’t make the situation worse. After a little while, he gently nudged her awake.

“Kinsley.”

She roused.

“We should go now.”

“What time is it?”

“Three-forty-five.”

“What? What will people think? What will Dr. Pierce think?”

Chapter 5

All the color drained from Kinsley’s face. Already up from the couch and heading out the boathouse door, she mumbled things only she could comprehend. “Oh my God, did I really do this? I keep saying I want to get back for Max, and then I go sneaking around like some teenager. What kind of mother am I?” She gave him no time to comprehend or answer. “I’ll tell you what kind. A lousy one. That’s