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“Your work is truly wonderful,” he said, meaning every word. Her expression became solemn, her eyes wide. The seriousness of their conversation just went up about twenty million notches. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“You didn’t. It’s just…I don’t know.” She fiddled with the edge of the napkin, kept her eyes trained on her plate. “It was hard for me to show you.”

“I know.” He did know. It seemed to take tremendous effort for her to admit what she was doing. But with that revelation, came trust and despite their argument, he knew their relationship had gone to another level. One he didn’t want to overanalyze for fear of what he might discover. “And I’m not just talking about when you showed me your painting.”

His words startled her. He saw it in her gaze when she jerked her head up. “What I shared, it’s a very personal thing.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Now you know all my secrets.”

“Don’t worry. They’re safe with me.” Again, he spoke the truth. He wanted her to know she could trust him more than anyone else in her life.

“I know.” The smile that curved her lips was real this time. “I trust you.”

Warmth suffused him. “You do.”

“Of course. You know this.”

He did. She’d become more and more open the longer they spent time together while he was the one who appeared to be closing his life up tight. “What we have, what we’ve been—experiencing. It isn’t casual to you, is it?”

Worry creased her brow. She was such an easy read. Of course, it helped he’d spent so much time with her. “No, it’s not,” she confessed.

“You want more.” He should run like hell. Could he give her more? He wasn’t sure.

“I can only ask for what you’re willing to give me.” Spoken like a true politician’s daughter.

His heart ached for her. She’d grown so accustomed in putting up that thick shell a

round her, it was hard for her to reveal such personal bits about herself. He could relate. He’d never been big on opening himself up to anyone either.

But he needed to be truthful, no matter how damning his words might be. She had to know where she stood.

“I don’t know what I can give you. I can at least admit I want to give you more,” he said softly, pausing to gauge her reaction before he forged on. “But it wouldn’t be right. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, taking advantage of this entire situation. And I’m shirking my duties. I’m not proud of that.” He shook his head, feeling like a shit.

“I don’t think less of you because of our situation, Mason. There’s no denying the attraction between us.”

Yeah, no kidding. “I could lose my job for sleeping with you. If my superiors found out…”

“They’ll never find out,” she offered quickly. “At least from me, they won’t.”

“I shouldn’t have risked it regardless. It was stupid of me.” The smile that curled his lips wasn’t one of happiness. “We should finish eating.”

He was trying to distract her. Shutting down, shutting her out. Something he was pretty damn good at.

“Can’t it wait? I’d like to finish this conversation,” she murmured, reaching for his hand.

He dodged her touch, grabbing his glass of wine so he could drain it. The phone rang, startling her and they stared at each other, the shrill ringing piercing the silence.

“Let me get it,” he said quietly.

She shook her head. “No. Let’s ignore it.” Her voice was vehement, determined. “Talk to me, Mason.”

It didn’t stop ringing and Blake realized it was the house phone, not one of their cell phones. It had to be a local call.

Weird. That phone hardly ever rang.

“You get the phone then, Blake. If you won’t, I will.”

“Oh, my God. This conversation is so not over.” Infuriated, she stalked toward the kitchen and grabbed the phone, barking a terse “hello” as greeting.

“Blake? Is that you?”


Tags: Karen Erickson Protect and Defend Romance