His Sheltering Arms

At the moment he’d seen much more than he’d wanted to. Correction. Needed to. “Yeah. So if you’re through hanging paper, you could show me around up here.”

She brushed a few golden strands of hair away from her face with one hand. “I’m through for now.”

“Is paper hanging in your job description, too?”

“Not exactly, but we’re lacking in volunteers. Considering the nature of this project, the fewer people who know the location, the better.”

“I’m pretty handy with a brush. Maybe I could help.”

Erin took two steps forward and studied him with eyes as blue as the sky blue walls. “I’m sure you have better ways to spend your time than painting an old house.”

“Actually, I don’t. After business hours, at least.”

She raised a thin brow. “Your wife wouldn’t mind?”

“I don’t have a wife.” Since she had broached the subject, he might as well ask. “How about you? Husband?”

She twisted the ring on her right hand. “Heavens, no.”

“Sorry subject?”

She brushed past him and stopped at the door. “You know how it is, Mr. Miller. Priorities don’t always include the husband, two-point-five kids and a golden retriever.”

He moved to stand opposite her and braced a hip against the door frame. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But surely you don’t spend all your time at work.”

“Lately, yes. I haven’t found anything that captures my passion like my work.”

“Or anyone?”

“No. Definitely not,” she said adamantly.

Zach clenched the back of his neck with one hand and studied the semiwhite drop cloth under his feet. “That’s a shame, Ms. Brailey. A real shame.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Mr. Miller. I manage.”

Pity didn’t enter into it. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man felt sorry for. He met her gaze. Big mistake. “It’s Zach, and since neither of us seems to be occupied, do you want to grab a bite to eat? I could go over a few of my concerns.”

She sighed. “That sounds very tempting, but I’m afraid I have dinner plans. He’s probably already at the restaurant.”

A strong sense of disappointment assaulted Zach, not that he was one to give up that easily. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Someone special?”

“Actually, I’m having dinner with my father.”

He straightened on that one. “You and your dad are close?”

In the time it took to blink, her expression went cold. “It’s an obligatory weekly dinner. That’s all.”

Zach wondered about the sudden change in her demeanor but thought it wise not to pursue the topic. He understood all too well the complicated dynamics between parent and child. He’d hated his father and still did, even though the man was dead.

“My father doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she added. “So let’s go down the hall, Mr.—” Her mouth worked into a smile “—Zach.”

She could make St. Peter sin with that smile. Which, as a practiced sinner, made Zach a goner. “At least we have the name thing straight. And let’s make another deal. We say what’s on our minds, no apologies. I think that works best with business arrangements.” He held out his hand. “Is it a deal?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she grasped his hand. “Deal.”

He didn’t immediately release her hand. Instead, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and met her eyes, surprise in their blue depths. Awareness sparked between them, keen as a razor’s edge.

Checking back into reality, he dropped her hand. “Better wear gloves when you paint so you don’t ruin your hands.”

She studied her hands as if she didn’t believe him. “Thanks for the advice, but I’m not that fragile.”

No, she probably wasn’t, but he’d give up a week’s salary to find out. He might even throw in his season hockey tickets.

Zach pushed off the door thinking he’d best escape before he did something stupid. “Well, Ms. Brailey—”

“It’s Erin. Turnabout’s fair play.”

He grinned. “Okay, Erin, we should look around so you’re not late for your dinner date.”

“You’re right. Can’t keep Daddy waiting.” Her tone was laced with sarcasm.

They walked the hall, and before they reached the next room, Erin turned back to him. “Since this tour is going to have to be quick, why don’t you come by my office tomorrow? You can bring the blueprint and show me your ideas.”

Zach slipped his hands into his pockets, all too eager to accept. “Morning okay?”

“I’m afraid it will have to be later. I visit the other shelter in the mornings, and I have a board meeting at four-thirty. You could meet me after that in the boardroom. That way we’ll have access to the conference table.”

A burst of heat shot through him at the thought of what he would like to do with her on top of that table. The image came to him sharp and clear and totally unexpected. What was it about her that had his fantasies running away with his common sense? It was physical, yes, but there was more. That bothered him. He could control animal lust, but he didn’t like to deal with human need. He suspected Erin was the kind of woman who could make him reveal his darkest secrets, if he wasn’t careful. He couldn’t afford to open old wounds. “What time?”

She started back down the hall. “Six.”

Zach lagged behind so he could enjoy the view. “Good. I’ll bring dinner. Chinese okay with you?”

“Great.”

“What do you like?”

“Spicy,” she said without turning around, but he detected a smile in her voice.

If she only knew what she was doing to him, she’d probably prefer to walk back. But maybe not. Maybe she did inject passion into everything she attempted. Something told him he just might have to find out.

Two

“Fifty thousand dollars, Erin? Fifty thousand is a great deal of money.”

Erin sipped her wine and regarded her father over the bistro’s elegant gold filigree candleholder situated perfectly on the round table for two. Although Robert Brailey’s face was etched with fine lines, his neatly coifed hair now completely silver, he was still a handsome man. Even at sixty he looked much younger and every bit the prosperous politician. He’d retired two years before from his lengthy term in the state senate to reclaim his standing as a renowned corporate attorney. But the politico persona was as deeply ingrained as his love for the law, fine wine and classic cars. He wore the image well.

Erin grabbed the bottle of port and filled her glass, ignoring his disapproving stare. “I know it’s a lot of money, but I need matching funds for this project. You have access to private donors.” She tried to tamp down her desperation. “Because of the discretion involved, I can’t go out into the community and solicit donations. You know people who can help.”