LITMIR.BIZ

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sounds awful.” Anya’s dark eyes smoldered. “What a bully.”

      “Tiff’s not easily cowed.” Jack was proud of his niece. “She had to work hard at appearing contrite, according to Helen. Then she took your advice and cried to her mom about how much she’d missed her grandmother. That it was cruel to deprive an old lady of her grandchildren. Also, she mentioned something about spiderwebs and dust.”

      “Did it work?”

      “Helen thinks her daughter was swayed, but there’s no telling what Vince will decide.” Jack’s aunt had always struck him as a strong person—maybe a little too strong, in view of the way she’d treated Rod—but she seemed unwilling or unable to stand up to her second husband. “Even if he agrees, they might choose to fly Helen to San Diego rather than letting Tiff and Amber come here.”

      “Let’s hope not.” It was Rod, toting a small reading lamp. “The girls need a break before those people crush their spirits.”

      “Tiffany doesn’t strike me as crushable,” Anya said. “But if she runs away again, she might end up who knows where.”

      Jack had no intention of allowing that to happen. “I made it very clear that if she can’t reach Rod or Helen, I’d meet her anywhere, anytime.”

      Her hand fluttered to his arm. “You really care about her. That’s so sweet.”

      He fought down the instinct to gather her close. “Of course.”

      Rod cleared his throat, but apparently reconsidered whatever he’d been about to say and vanished toward the parking lot. For once, he’d picked up on the vibes around him and showed a trace of sensitivity. And I’m sure I’ll hear about it later.

      Anya lifted her hand. “Sorry.”

      “Nothing to be sorry about,” Jack told her.

      “Listen.” In the dappled sunlight, she raised her face to his. The soft light emphasized the velvet texture of her skin and the fullness of her lips. “We should meet for coffee. Or tea. Or juice.”

      Finally, she was ready to move past this tough patch in their relationship. “Any beverage will do.” Encouraged that she’d taken this step of her own volition, Jack cupped her hands in his. “Now that you’re moving to Karen’s house, we won’t be running into each other outside of work. I’d like to remedy that. I miss you.”

      She swayed closer, then slid her hands free and scooted back. If he’d been paying attention to their surroundings, he’d have heard the footsteps, too. Jack would gladly have kicked Lucky and Zora, except that might have made them drop the TV they were carrying.

      Agonizing seconds passed. When they were alone again, he asked, “What day is good for you?”

      “For what?”

      “Drinks.”

      “Oh, that.” Anya studied him as if seeking the answer to an unasked question. “Just suppose...what if Tiffany and her sister had to move away somewhere that you and Rod would never see them? I mean, if it was best for them. Like, witness protection.”

      What a bizarre idea. “There are no circumstances under which my nieces would not need their father,” Jack responded vehemently.

      “Oh.”

      She seemed to shrink away.

      What was that about? Surely she knew his anger wasn’t directed at her. “I could meet you tomorrow afternoon when you get off.” Jack worked an overnight shift on Sundays in labor and delivery, so he had Mondays free. Well, free aside from sleeping.

      Rod bustled past on the walkway, whistling and keeping his gaze trained ahead. He didn’t have to be so obvious about ignoring them, but it was better than if he’d stopped to gab.

      “No, the whole thing is a bad idea.” Anya stood up. “We work together. Let’s keep it professional.”

      “Wait a minute.” She was the one who’d proposed to meet for a drink. “Is this a game?”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      Jack brushed off his slacks as he stood. “I realize you weren’t feeling well...”

      “Probably low blood pressure,” she said.

      “Regardless, that’s no excuse for jerking me around.” He’d interrupted his breakfast plans and overtaxed his muscles, which would now probably hurt like hell during the long night ahead. That was all fine—she hadn’t requested his assistance, and he didn’t begrudge a few aches and pains—but it was unfair to suggest they meet for coffee and then behave as if he had pressured her. “If you’d rather I kept my distance, fine. But don’t issue invitations you don’t mean.”

      “I didn’t...it wasn’t like that.” A familiar pucker appeared between her eyes.

      Jack nearly softened. She had an astonishing ability to stir his protective instincts. But no one had appointed him her guardian. She had plenty of friends, and if she’d rather drink coffee or simply hang out with the other nurses, male or female, that was her business.

      “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he told her. “If it’s low blood pressure, you should eat something.”

      “Crackers.” She swallowed. “I think we packed them. But that’s okay. Karen and Melissa promised to fix sandwiches.”

      Lucky strode by. “The first of many meals. I don’t suppose you’ve seen the updated kitchen? It’s impressive.”

      “No.” Jack was sure he had a much better idea of how to make the most of a kitchen than Lucky did.

      “And all that space!” the man crowed. “Once we settle in, it will be a fantastic party house.”

      “Knock yourself out.” Jack had endured enough veiled taunts for one day. Also, he realized, the apartment must be nearly empty by now. “I’ll let you folks finish on your own. Enjoy your sandwiches.”

      “Thanks for the help,” said Anya.

      “Don’t mention it.”

      He’d reached the parking lot before he remembered that the van still blocked their cars. Then he spotted Rod’s distinctive fedora. His uncle was facing a statuesque lady in formfitting green slacks and a halter top. Golden-brown hair floated around a determined face as she waved.

      “Hi,” Jack called. What was the Realtor’s name? Della? Danielle? It always reminded him of old-fashioned countertops. Formica. No, that wasn’t right.

      “Danica was just mentioning she had a couple of very lonely apple pies,” Rod informed him.

      “There’s more than I can eat,” Danica confirmed. “It’s my mother’s closely guarded recipe. Homemade crusts, too.”

      “With whipped cream, they’ll be better than waffles,” Rod said. “There is whipped cream, isn’t there?”

      He noticed a mischievous glint in her eye, hinting that the whipped cream might be put to all sorts of creative uses. “Absolutely. And espresso.”

      He’d struck out with Anya, so why not? “Sounds wonderful,” Jack said. “Very kind of you.”

      “My pleasure.”

      The real estate agent linked one arm through Rod’s and the other through his as if laying claim to them both. That didn’t last long, though, since it was impossible to climb the exterior steps in that formation. As they were separating, he caught Anya’s expression from behind the truck.

      She looked...hurt. Or was he kidding himself?

      Much as Jack enjoyed her company, he was done behaving like a teenager with a crush. If she chose to retreat from what they’d shared and return to acting strictly professionally he respected that.

      Besides,

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