Midnight Rhythms

She had no time for anything except studying and passing her tests.

“So, what did you do overseas?” she asked, for something to say. Actually, if she were honest, she was a tiny bit curious about it.

“Built a bridge.” He was a civil engineer, he told her, working mostly on foreign contracts, building roads and dams and bridges. He’d just returned from Bolivia, where he’d worked on a construction project building a bridge across one of the tributaries of the Amazon. Before that he’d been to places she wasn’t sure she could find on a map.

It was easy to see him in some exotic, tropical place, bare-chested, with a hard hat on his head, directing a crew of construction workers.

They’d arrived at the gas station and David leaped out of the car before she’d even opened her door.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said, and strode away before she could object. She sat back and shrugged. Okay, let him, she thought. She watched him come out of door with a container, watched him fill it from one of the pumps, having first slid a credit card through the payment machine.

“How much was it?” she asked when he got back in the car.

He waved his hand. “Forget it.”

“No,” she said tightly. “I will not.”

He flashed her a probing look and fished the receipt from the breast pocket of his T-shirt. “Here you go.”

She glanced at it, got the money from her purse and handed it to him. “Thank you for helping me out.”

“You’re welcome,” he said soberly.

There was something about him that was beginning to annoy her. She had this suspicious feeling that he was laughing at her, that for some reason he found her amusing.

Back at her ugly green car, he emptied the container of gas into her tank. She thanked him again for his help, and with a sigh of relief she took off down the road, alone again, oh, bliss, and not even late.

Now, if only he didn’t steal Susan’s car and the contents of the house…

David watched her drive off. He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen a woman looking that tired and vulnerable and so in need of a warm hug. He grinned. Well, he’d given her one, even if it had unintentionally turned out to be more than a hug of the brotherly variety. The instant physical reaction he had experienced at the feel of her body in his arms had surprised even him. He wasn’t exactly eighteen anymore.

She had gorgeous big, expressive eyes and a wonderful mass of naturally curly chestnut hair that tempted touching and stroking. She stirred up his protective instincts, but clearly that wasn’t all.

He sat in the car without moving for a while, surprised by his feelings. Good feelings, healthy feelings. Feelings he hadn’t felt for a long time, and a deep longing suddenly filled his heart.

Then fear rushed in.

He rubbed his face as if to clear his mind and turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred into life. He drove back to the house and went to work, writing an article on managing engineering projects in developing countries, where time was a stretchable commodity, skilled labor was difficult to find and cultural differences imposed unexpected problems. Working for three years in the jungle without losing your mind was no small feat, and he certainly had learned a lot—about himself as well as the job.

Come to think of it, he was tired, too.

Mostly, though, he was tired of being alone.

When Sam arrived home that night after class, she was afraid to look in the direction of the pool in case she saw David in all his unclad glory standing in the moonlight.

She looked anyway; she just couldn’t help herself.

Nothing. Nobody. She let out a sigh, struggled out of the car with her book bag and purse and trekked to the back door and into the house.

Music greeted her, rippling and dancing joyfully through the air. Wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, David sat at the dining room table pounding away at a laptop with impressive speed. The table was strewn with papers and blueprints. His concentration was so intensive it took him a full minute before he noticed her. He grinned at her as his focus cleared.

“Ah, you’ve returned from the world of commerce and academia. How are you?”

“Exhausted.”

He leaped to his feet with an explosion of energy that took her off guard. “How about a swim?” he asked. “And a glass of wine to wind down?”

A swim. A glass of wine. It sounded heavenly. It was a balmy night. It would feel good. She imagined herself in the pool with David, sipping wine, her body floating in the warm water, the sky full of stars above, and her heart began to gallop. Her imagination was running wild again. It was crazy. She didn’t even like the man. He was looming over her, and she didn’t like that either. She took a step back.

“No, thank you,” she said. “I’ve got things to do.” Laundry, for one. More useful than gazing at the moon.

“You’re a very busy person,” he observed.

“Yes, I am.”

He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and gave her a searching look. “What do you normally do in your free time?” he asked conversationally.

“I don’t have any.”

“Never?”

“Not lately, anyway.” Not since she’d taken the extra summer courses. “I work, go to classes, study, take care of the house.” Fortunately housework didn’t require much time; Susan had insisted her regular cleaning lady keep coming at least once a week, and the yard was taken care of by a gardener. She never saw either of these people because she was never at home during the day. “If there’s time left, I sleep,” she added. “Or at least I try.”

His left eyebrow arched up. “No frivolity at all? No romance, no fun?”

“I haven’t got time.” Romance? she added silently. Are you kidding? “And now, if you’ll excuse me?” She trekked down the hall to her bedroom, changed into shorts and T-shirt and headed to the laundry room. The dryer held clothes she’d done two days earlier and hadn’t yet taken out. She dumped them on the folding table and found David behind her as she picked up a pair of cotton panties to fold them. He was leaning against the door, a glass of white wine in each hand.

“Have one of these while you’re doing that,” he said easily.

The last thing she needed was for him to stand there watching her fold her underwear, her practical, serviceable cotton panties. He’d been here barely twenty-four hours and he was getting on her nerves already. She suppressed the urge to tell him to get lost.

What she’d really like was a drink to help her relax. And he was offering her one. Oh, what the heck, why not? She dropped the panties back on the pile, accepted the glass from him and took a sip. “Thank you,” she said politely, caving in to civility. She tried not to see how good he looked wearing just jeans and a T-shirt-lean, muscular, fit. Of course she saw anyway.

“I’ve been trying to contact Susan and Andrew today,” he said, “but it seems they’ve disappeared in the Turkish hinterland. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

She frowned. “Why were you trying to contact them?” After all, he wasn’t the one worried about the situation.

“So they can reassure you about my presence here, tell you I’m an upstanding citizen and not an escaped convict or whatever you might have imagined,” he said levelly. Again the humor in his voice. As if the very idea of someone finding him suspicious was exceedingly comical.

She took another sip of the wine. “I see. Well, I do like to hear from them.” She picked up a towel and folded it, hoping he’d go away, but he seemed perfectly content lounging against the doorpost, drinking his wine in a leisurely way.

She concentrated on folding the towels, trying not to look at him. She wished he weren’t so damned good-looking. It was having a disturbing effect on her equilibrium. She had enough problems in her life; she didn’t need a man to add to them. And certainly not a take-charge type like this one.

“So, what have you been doing all day?” she asked casually. Not that she cared, of course.

“Had a good long run this morning, made some phone calls, did some reading, some writing.”

“Sounds pretty strenuous,” she said evenly.