Carolina Moon

rage he’d concealed so well. And it was that shot of pure, unfiltered emotion from him that turned another bolt inside her.
    God, she didn’t want to be loved or needed, didn’t want to have those same feelings stirred to life again inside her. But he was here, and just by being made her feel again.
    “I’ve already given you more than I thought I had. I don’t know how much more there is.” She held on to him, burrowed into him. “There’s so much happening inside me, I can’t keep up with it. It all circles back to you. Isn’t that enough?”
    “Yeah.” He eased her back to kiss her again, softly this time. “Yeah, that’s enough for now. As long as you make room for more.” He skimmed his thumbs over her cheeks. “Had a hell of a day, haven’t you?”
    “I can’t say it’s been one of my best so far.”
    “Let’s finish it right, then. We’ll get started.”
    “On what?”
    He opened the screen door. “You wanted to clean him out. Let’s do it.”
    They worked together for two hours. He turned on music. She wouldn’t have thought of it, would have stayed focused on the details, kept her mind channeled down those strict lines. But the music drifted through the house, into her head, just distracting enough to keep her from brooding.
    She wanted to burn the clothes he’d touched, could visualize carrying them outside, heaping them up, striking a match. But she couldn’t afford the indulgence. Instead, she washed, folded, put away.
    They turned the damaged mattress over. It would have to be replaced, but it would do for now. And with fresh linens, you hardly noticed.
    He talked about his work, in a way that had his voice drifting pleasantly through her mind like the music. They dealt with the wreckage of the kitchen, ate sandwiches, and she told him that she was considering hiring on help.
    “It’s a good idea.” He helped himself to a beer, quietly pleased that she’d stocked some for him. “You’ll enjoy your business more if it doesn’t strangle all your time. Sherry Bellows, that’s the new high school teacher, isn’t it? I met her and her dog a few weeks ago out at the minimart. Seems like a bundle of energy.”
    “That was my impression.”
    “In a very attractive package.” He grinned and sipped his beer when Tory merely lifted her brows. “Just thinking of you, darling. An attractive clerk is a business asset. You think she’ll wear those little shorts?”
    “No,” Tory said firmly. “I don’t.”
    “Bound to draw a lot of male customers if you let that be her uniform. That’s a girl with very nice pins.”
    “Pins. Hmmm. Well, she and her pins depend on how her references check out. But I imagine they will.” Tory swept up the last of the debris, dumped it in the trash. “That seems to be the best that can be done.”
    “Feel better?”
    “Yes.” She crossed the room to put away the broom and dustpan. “Considerably. And I’m very grateful for the help.”
    “I’m always open to gratitude.”
    She took the pitcher from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass of iced tea. “The bedroom closet’s not very big, but I made some room. And there’s an empty drawer in the dresser.”
    He said nothing, only drank his beer. Waited.
    “You wanted to be able to have some of your things here, didn’t you?”
    “That’s right.”
    “So.”
    “So?”
    “We’re not living together.” She set down her glass. “I’ve never lived with anyone, and that’s not what this is.”
    “All right.”
    “But if you’re going to be spending so much time here, you might as well have a place for some of your things.”
    “Very practical.”
    “Oh, go to hell.” But there wasn’t any heat in the response.
    “You’re not supposed to smile when you say that.” He set his beer aside, then slid his arms around her.
    “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Dancing. I never took you dancing. It’s something people who aren’t really living together ought to do now and then.”
    It was an old, shuffling number with a boy asking a girl to stand by him when the land was dark.
    “Are you trying to be charming?”
    “I don’t have to try. It’s just part of my makeup.” He dipped her, made her laugh.
    “Very smooth.”
    “All those miserable hours of cotillion had to pay off.”
    “Poor little rich boy.” She rested her head on his shoulder and let herself enjoy the dance, the feel of him against her, the scent of him. “Thanks.”
    “You’re