Thief of My Heart

“Call the hot lawyer who’s been pursuing you. Have a torrid affair. You’ve got ten years of pent-up sexual energy that needs to be expended.”

Desiree grinned. “Is that your professional advice?”

John smiled. “No, it’s the advice of a dear friend.”

They began walking to the back of the room, where Desiree had left her belongings on a bench. “Maybe I will. He sent me a beautiful bouquet of spring flowers last Saturday.”

John’s eyebrows arched with curiosity. “Did you send them back?”

“No, I kept them.” Desiree suddenly realized that she had neglected to phone Decker and thank him for the flowers. Not only that, but she hadn’t read his card yet, which was still somewhere in the bottom of her shoulder bag.

“Oh, my God, I feel terrible. I didn’t even call to thank him for the flowers. I’ve never forgotten to thank him before. It slipped my mind!” She quickly grabbed her shoulder bag and a fresh towel she’d brought with her from the bench. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks for the workout, Sensei! Give my best to Evan.” She bent and slipped on her sneakers, quickly tying the laces.

John’s eyes softened at the thought of his longtime partner. “Can I tell him you’re going to call the hot lawyer?”

“Yeah,” Desiree said as she ran up the basement stairs. “But tell him not to get his hopes up because the hot lawyer might not even accept my call after I waited a week to thank him for the flowers.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” John said confidently.

Chapter 3 (#ulink_c2f0e701-9e14-54d8-ba88-10cf3da3d3d0)

The first thing Desiree did when she got to her car that Monday evening after her workout with John was to lean against it and dig in her shoulder bag for Decker’s card. She felt bad about not calling him before now. Even when she rejected his flowers, she always phoned to thank him for the thought, after which he’d make a joke about it and they’d end up laughing together before ending the call. She made sure he knew it wasn’t because she disliked him that she refused to go out with him. It was because he wasn’t her type. Plus, there was the fact that they were related by marriage. She couldn’t behave standoffish with him because she saw him at all sorts of family functions. She didn’t ignore him, or turn and leave the room when he entered. She was always civil and kind. The truth was, if not for the fact that he had a reputation for being a ladies’ man, he might actually be her type. He was good at his job, devoted to family and friends, to say nothing of being a total hottie. She did have eyes!

She finally found the card and removed it from its tiny envelope. She immediately recognized Decker’s expressive cursive writing and smiled. The message read “Desi, I know when to cut my losses. If I don’t hear from you after you receive these flowers, I’ll know you’re never going to give me the chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved. Yet I’m still hoping to be yours someday, Decker.”

Suddenly weak in the knees, Desiree leaned heavily against the car door, her gaze lingering on the note. She didn’t know why she felt like this: happy and sad at the same time. Decker had never written anything so heartfelt on his cards before. The messages usually consisted of things like “Go out with me already” or “How about dinner tomorrow night?” Once he’d written “Hello from your friendly neighborhood stalker.”

Standing there in John’s driveway, she realized that Decker might be thinking things were over between them for good since she hadn’t bothered to phone him. That must have been why he’d written that if he didn’t hear from her, he would know she didn’t want anything to do with him and would give up.

She was torn. Did she really want him to give up on her? To be honest, she had gotten some kind of weird satisfaction out of having a gorgeous man pursuing her. Flattery wasn’t the half of it. Decker Riley provided the closest thing she’d had in her life that could be construed as a relationship with a man. John was right: she was scared to take another chance on love. Decker had been safe because she could hold him at bay.

Did she have the courage to call him and ask him out? If she didn’t, what did that make her, a pseudopsychologist? How could she help anyone else when she couldn’t even overcome her own shortcomings? How could she advise anyone else about life when her own was so messed up?

She slipped the card back into her shoulder bag and got behind the wheel of the SUV. Picking up her cell phone, she ran a finger across the touch screen and selected Decker’s cell phone number.

He answered after three rings. “Desiree?” He sounded tentative, as though he was unsure as to why she’d phoned him.

“Do you have a moment?” she asked softly.

“I’m home,” he said. “You can have all the time you need.”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

He sighed. “It’s been a week. I thought you weren’t going to call.” He didn’t sound upset, though, just wary.

“I got sidetracked. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, maybe over dinner?”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, Decker,” she said with a short laugh. “I mean it. I know it’s been a long time coming, but I’d like to see where a date with you will lead. Do you accept the challenge?”

He laughed, too. “Hell, yeah, I accept! I know exactly where I want to take you for dinner.”

“Where is that?” she asked, her tone entirely too expectant for her comfort. She didn’t want to sound overly eager.

“Don’t you worry about where,” said Decker. “Just tell me which night you’re available, the time to be at your place and leave the rest to me. Are you game?”

Desiree was grinning now. This could be fun, a bit of spontaneity in her well-ordered life. “All right, Friday night at eight.”

“I’ll be there, beautiful. Wear your dancing shoes.”

“You dance?”

“Of course I dance. All Riley men dance.”

“What about Riley women?”

“Who do you think teach the Riley men?”

She laughed delightedly. “Then your mom taught you to dance?”

“She started when I was five years old. She told me all Southern gentlemen should know how to conduct themselves on the dance floor. She’s very old-school.”

Desiree had met his mother, June, on several occasions and liked her. She was always kind to her and, like her son, had a killer sense of humor. But she didn’t strike her as old-school. She dressed beautifully in the latest designer fashions and drove a sports car, fast.

She laughed at his assertion. “Your mom’s ultramodern, and you know it.”

“That she is,” Decker admitted. “Deep down, though, she’s traditional. She’s getting very impatient with me.”

“About?”

“Bringing some nice girl home to meet her and Dad,” Decker said. “She likes you.”

“I like her, too, but let’s not talk about that until after the first date, okay?”

Decker laughed. “I’m getting a little ahead of myself, huh?”

“A little,” Desiree said with a smile.

“I can hear a smile in your voice,” Decker said. “You’re not turned off by the thought. I’ll take that. See you Friday night. Do you like Italian food?”

“Love it. Should I wear something casual or dressy?” Desiree asked before he could hang up.

“Let’s keep it casual for the first date,” Decker said.