* * * *
She sat next to him at the breakfast bar in his kitchen and decided his house was every bit as fantastic as his car. It was an old Victorian restored and decorated in an eclectic fashion that she fell in love with instantly. It had an artistic flair which somehow, rather than clash with the era of the house, enhanced it. Even though she expected the décor to have a feminine, Victorian feel in keeping with the style of the house, it didn’t, and it worked anyway. The man was a genius. He cooked a pretty mean omelet too.
“I love your house, Shane. Did you design it?”
“Yes. I bought it about six years ago. Did all the work myself over winter breaks and summer vacations. Got a good deal on it because of the economy in the early eighties. The main floor is done but I’m still working on turning the upstairs into a master suite and an art studio. The light up there is fantastic because of the southern exposure. Then I need to tackle the basement…”
“Is there nothing you can’t do?”
He frowned, a haunted look entering his eyes. “There’s plenty. You’d be surprised how much you can accomplish when you don’t have a social life.”
“You can’t be serious. I’m sure there’s women lined up around the block wanting to go out with you.”
He barked out a laugh and she winced. She touched a nerve there. She searched his face for some clue to what was going on inside his head but couldn’t find one.
“Suffice to say, I’m not good at picking the right person to be interested in. But it’s helped me focus on my career. I’m glad about that.”
“Surely you have some kind of social life? Friends to hang out with?”
“Of course. One of them is a professor in the music department and her husband. I’ve known Erika and her family since we went to college together in L.A. Coincidentally, she started working at C.U. a couple years ago when she got married. Her husband has a thriving commercial real estate business in the Denver Metro area.” He gave her a teasing smile. “But, Dani, I could say the same about you. Don’t you have a social life?”
“Some. But I spend most of my time either doing school work or working to pay for college. My father was transferred to IBM from their offices in France when I was little, and though he made descent money, I didn’t want to burden him with the expense of my education. Scholarships paid most of my way and I’ve paid the rest myself.”
He looked at her in admiration. She liked it a lot more than she probably should. But she was tired of devoting her time to work and doing the right thing. She wanted to live a little. She thought he might be feeling that too. Why else would he kiss her on a busy street corner?
Still, it wasn’t just the physical attraction. She wanted more from him than a romantic fling. Already. Though they’d only spent a few hours together. She already knew things about him that made her like him as a person. Admire him for more than his talent as an artist. He hardly knew her and he’d done so much to help her in her time of trouble. How could she not admire a man who put what was best for her ahead of himself? Then there was his determination to make a success of himself despite the fact his parents wouldn’t support him. His willingness to do whatever it took to make a lucrative career out of his artistic abilities, as well as the hard work and skill involved in remodeling his house. He intrigued her and it left her wanting to know everything she could about him.
“Quite mature of you. It appears we’re both goal-oriented people.”
“It does. But I’m rethinking it now.”
He gave her a surprised look. “Why?”
She shrugged. Maybe she said too much. She certainly didn’t want to tell him it was because of him. And the kisses that had her seeing fireworks. “Maybe it’s because I’m practically at my goal. Maybe it’s because of my parents’ sudden death.” Voice wobbling on the last bit, she took a deep steadying breath. “Things can change so quickly. It puts life into perspective. Like you said. People are more important than anything.” Her appetite abandoned her. She set her fork down on her plate, tears flooding her eyes and she blinked rapidly to get rid of them. “I don’t remember the last time I told my parents I loved them, Shane, and now I can’t do it.”
His silverware clattered on his plate and he put his hand on her back, rubbing it soothingly. “You can’t beat yourself up about something like that. They know you loved them. You’ll drive yourself crazy with the ‘what if’s’.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and ran a finger down her cheek. Leaning towards her, he lowered his voice. “How about I show you what I’m working on upstairs?”
“That’s not your version of, ‘come inside and have a look at my etchings’, is it?”
He laughed, stood up and held his hand out to her. “Only if you want it to be.”
The idea was overwhelmingly appealing and scared her witless at the same time, so she didn’t say anything. She took his hand, stood up and they headed to the staircase. She really wanted to see what he was doing with the upstairs regardless of where things went with them.
Chapter Five
The Professor's Secret Page 6