The CEO's Unexpected Proposal

He gave an honest answer that caused his gut to burn. “I didn’t like the strain between me and Kelly that last year before she died.” He shook his head. “When I came into the house, she left.” That was hard to admit to anyone, especially Mikala. But he’d already realized she wouldn’t accept anything less than complete honesty.

To his relief she didn’t ask more questions about his marriage. “Did you do things together as a family?”

Dawson didn’t know if Mikala the therapist was asking, or Mikala the friend. He gave a shrug. “Not usually. I drove Luke to his Little League games. Kelly took him to his music lessons. I played catch with him in the backyard. She took him on play dates.”

“That happens with a lot of parents,” Mikala said, seeming to understand.

He didn’t feel any judgment from her and that made him feel less defensive. “I wish I knew how to get Luke looking forward to moving here.”

“Does he like animals? Has he ever asked for a pet, a dog, maybe?”

He took another step closer to Mikala. “You really do know kids.”

She laughed, a sound that resonated with him, that made his heart ache a little. Because he hadn’t known much laughter in the past two years.

“I’m good at what I do, Dawson. Besides, I get around. I often babysit for Clay and Celeste’s little girl, Abby.”

“Clay has emailed me photos and video clips. She’s a charmer.”

“Yes, she is.”

He noticed a wistfulness in Mikala’s voice. Did she want children of her own? Did she feel a biological clock ticking? Why hadn’t she married before now?

Veering away from that train of thought, he said, “I’m considering getting Luke a dog. It’s a good idea after we settle in. Luke’s old enough now to be responsible.”

“Did you have pets?” she asked with a smile.

Dawson wished he’d had a pet. Maybe his house wouldn’t have seemed so cold. “No, no pets. Dad was always at the mill. Mom involved herself in clubs and charity work. She raised money for a lot of causes.”

“As an only child, you must have had their full attention.”

He gave an offhanded laugh. “Yep, full attention.” He wasn’t going to say more. After all, Mikala didn’t have to know everything about him in order to help his son. No need at all. She didn’t need to know that his parents’ marriage had been cold, that they’d seemed to live separate lives, that they had seemed to stay together for convenience sake, for his sake or maybe for the sake of their finances.

This room seemed to magnify everything they were saying to each other, making it important. He turned the tables on her. “Didn’t your aunt dote on you?”

A guarded look came into Mikala’s eyes, and he recognized it as one she’d used even as a teenager.

“She did.” Mikala said simply.

“And your mom became a famous fashion designer who just visited on weekends?”

“Not that often,” Mikala offered nonchalantly. “When she had time.”

“When did she leave Miners Bluff?”

“Dawson, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’ve been answering your questions,” he reminded her.

“That’s different! I mean, I need to know background information in order to help Luke.”

“All of your questions had to do with background information?” He didn’t know why he was pushing this, but he was.

He saw the flush steal over her face, and he knew he’d hit the mark. She was interested in his life, just as he was interested in hers.

“Maybe not all,” she admitted. “After all, we’re sort of catching up.”

Yes, they were. “There’s a motto my parents lived by—appearances count. We all lived by it.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

What did it matter if he told her now? “What was private stayed private. We pretended everything was all right, even when it wasn’t. I have a feeling you might have done a lot of that, too.”

She didn’t say whether he was right or whether he was wrong. But there was something in the way the corner of her mouth quivered a little, in the way she nervously pushed her hair behind her ear that told him he’d hit a sore point for her, too. Mikala pretended her mother’s desertion didn’t matter. Maybe that’s why she’d kept a certain distance from everyone. Maybe that’s why her friendliness and maybe even her compassion were defenses. She got close to her friends, but didn’t let her friends get too close to her.

Except there hadn’t been any distance between them the night of prom, and there hadn’t been distance between them for the few minutes they’d danced the night of the reunion. Now he wasn’t sure what was happening with her. Maybe they were just catching up, but the connection he felt to her unnerved him.

Cutting off whatever was going on, he said, “I’d better get to the office or I’ll be late for my appointment.”

At first he thought Mikala looked hurt he’d broken off the conversation so abruptly. But then that flicker of emotion was gone and she looked so … neutral … he wondered if he’d glimpsed it at all.

“You go on,” she said amiably. “I brought my flash drive with some files I need to load on the computer. I’ll be waiting in the office for you when you finish. Philip doesn’t waste time. He’ll probably have you in and out of there in fifteen minutes unless you have a lot of questions.”

“I’ve already spoken with him on the phone. You’re right. He’s crisp, but thorough. I’ll see you in a little while.”

He left Mikala in the music room, thinking about his connection with her that seemed to defy time.

Forty-five minutes later, Mikala wondered how to make the awkwardness between her and Dawson dissipate. They’d driven back to the B and B in his luxury SUV, listening to music he’d programmed in. She wondered about the life he’d led in Phoenix. From his supple leather jacket to his low Italian boots, she could tell he was used to the finer things in life.

As they stood in the kitchen, their history and unspoken bond vibrating between them, Mikala gestured at the counter. “Help yourself to anything you want in the refrigerator or the cookie jar. This will be your home for a while.”

“Not until I come back. I feel like I’m taking advantage of your aunt by staying in that suite tonight. I could just sleep on the sofa—then she wouldn’t have to change the bed.”

“We might not even register any guests between now and the fifteenth. Don’t worry about it, Dawson. Be comfortable tonight.”

They were talking about beds and that wasn’t any more comfortable than anything else.

There was a sudden knock on the kitchen door. Dawson asked, “Expecting someone?”

“No, but I do have a session in about an hour. Maybe my client had the time wrong.” But when she opened the door, she smiled widely.

Celeste Sullivan stood there with her almost-four-year-old daughter, Abby, holding her hand. Abby immediately held her arms up to Mikala for a hug.

“Hi, honey. What an unexpected surprise!”

Celeste laughed. “Abby was restless and Clay won’t be back until late tonight, so we thought we’d come for a visit. If it’s a bad time, we’ll go downtown to the library instead.”

“No! Come on in. Wait until you see who’s here.”