“Thomas, you’re sweating. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he muttered irritably as she reached out and touched his brow. Her fingers felt cool . . . comforting. He hadn’t even realized he’d started to sweat as he stood there with his phone in his hand. His fragmenting control over his body frustrated him. He tossed the BlackBerry onto the couch. Sophie’s stroking fingers stilled on his jaw as his irritability bubbled to the surface. She started to drop her hand, but he caught it.
“Do you still want to walk over to the Dolans’?” she asked as he pressed her knuckles against his lips.
He noticed the uncertainty in her tone and felt like shit all over again.
“Yeah. I do,” he said, forcing the civilized façade to the forefront. It wasn’t a total lie. He did feel bad for the way he’d behaved earlier with Sherman Dolan, even if the part of him that wanted to drag Sophie off to bed like a caveman felt a hell of a lot stronger at the moment.
He inhaled, shoving his intrusive urges to the background and took Sophie’s hand.
“Aren’t you going to lock the door?” Thomas asked her sharply a moment later when she just pulled the door shut behind them.
Her smooth brow furrowed. “I never do.”
Thomas scowled, his eyes scanning the driveway and surrounding foliage. “I’d appreciate it if you started.”
For a second she hesitated, swaying in her sandals. “All right,” she conceded finally, reaching for the door to go to retrieve her keys.
Sophie studied him surreptitiously from beneath her lashes as they approached the Dolans’ white-sided Victorian house. She’d been alarmed at his appearance when she’d walked into the living room a few minutes ago. It reminded her of the evening she’d seen him on her dock. He looked like a man who had a fever raging in his body and mind.
Or a battle.
He seemed calmer now as they walked down the lake road that was so little used it was more like a country path than a major thoroughfare. He was less agitated, but more thoughtful and withdrawn as well.
Was he dreading having to apologize for his earlier behavior to Sherm Dolan? His stoic profile told her little.
“Thomas?”
He glanced over at her.
“Sherman and Daisy grew up in Beverly, Illinois. They still have a lot of family there,” Sophie said, knowing that Beverly and Morgan Park were next to one another, and that the histories of the neighborhoods were long intertwined. Knowing he had some common history with the Dolans might help to smooth over any awkwardness that had arisen from his earlier erratic behavior.
His mouth opened to respond but Daisy Dolan herself stepped out about fifty feet ahead of them through an opening in the hedge that lined the gravel driveway. Sophie smiled and waved and Daisy waved in return, her shoulder-length brown hair blowing in the breeze. As she walked forward to greet them, Sophie spotted a smudge of dirt on her neighbor’s nose.
“Have you been in your garden?” Sophie asked with a smile as she bent to kiss Daisy’s soft, pale cheek in greeting. Daisy spent a great deal of her time outdoors, flitting about in her garden or tending to her landscaped yard. How her skin remained so unaffected by the sun was a mystery to Sophie.
When she’d first met Sherman’s wife, Sophie’d thought she’d be more aptly named Lily. When Daisy smiled, however, Sophie’d realized the name suited her very well.
“Yes, how did you know?” Daisy asked as she cast an uncertain glance at Thomas. The contrast in the two people she stood on the gravel drive with
struck Sophie at that moment. Thomas was male vibrancy and power personified, while Daisy was thin, fragile, and delicate. Sophie knew that Daisy’s heart wasn’t strong. Her ill health was one of the reasons the Dolans had retired early and lived a stress-free, peaceful life at Haven Lake.
Sophie wiped the dirt from Daisy’s nose and spoke lightly. “I know the signs, that’s all.”
“Is everything all right, Sophie? Sherman and I . . . We were worried ...” Daisy trailed off as she glanced at a brooding Thomas warily.
“We wanted to come over and assure you that everything is okay. Daisy, meet Thomas Nicasio,” Sophie murmured, her arm surrounding Daisy’s thin shoulders.
Thomas nodded politely. “I’m sorry for causing you any worry and for overreacting with your husband. Is he around? I’d like to apologize in person.”
Daisy’s mouth dropped open at Thomas’s deep voice and solemn manner. Her dove gray eyes—easily her most lovely feature—softened in her heart-shaped face, and Sophie knew Thomas had already won Daisy over. Sophie wondered if it was the shadow of genuine regret on Thomas’s features or his sheer male potency that had swayed her. The latter must have affected her the other evening, as well, when Daisy had so trustingly given Thomas directions to her house.
“He’s out on the dock fishing,” Daisy told Thomas.
“That’s a surprise,” Sophie chuckled.
Thomas nodded, his green eyes meeting Sophie’s briefly before he turned toward the lake.