Slow Hands

the way a woman should be shaped.”
    “Uh-huh,” she said, disbelief ringing clearly in her voice. “Tell that to the Chicago Club set who have replica Paris fashion models on their arms.”
    “You’re beautiful,” he said firmly, not allowing her to argue it. Thinking about what she’d said, he added, “And if you let some quack touch you I’ll have to hunt him down and put a hurt on him.”
    “Are you always so aggressive?”
    “Are you always so hard on yourself?”
    That appeared to shock her. Maddy’s mouth dropped open, as if he’d accused her of having an extra limb. “Hard on myself? Me? I’ve got a well-known reputation as a self-confident ice queen.”
    “Maybe in the financial world.” He reached across the table and smoothed back a long, silky strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail, touching her cheek lightly in the process. “Not in the real one.”
    Maddy froze for a moment, allowing the brief caress. Then, as he could have predicted, she carefully slid away from it, as if realizing she’d been getting far too comfortable around him. Now she was putting that distance back—that wall.
    He didn’t take it personally. Especially because he had realized something—the separation wasn’t just between her and him, but between her and everyone. As if she constantly had to keep a shield in place to prevent anyone from getting too close. Or from getting too obnoxious, like the guy at the ballpark, whom she had so easily put in his place.
    He knew from experience that the absolute worst thing to do with a woman who already had her guard up was to try to stampede through it. Which was why he’d downplayed that casual touch at the stadium. Jeez, he’d meant to offer her a way-to-go squeeze but had ended up completely dumbstruck by the way the simple brush of his hand against her leg had made him feel.
    Awed. Hot. Out of his mind hungry.
    And he’d had to pretend he’d felt absolutely nothing . Or risk adding to the armor he’d finally begun to slowly chip away.
    “I have plenty of self-confidence. Just because I don’t appear on the social pages with a different man every week doesn’t mean I don’t know I’m moderately attractive.”
    Attractive didn’t even begin to describe her.
    “I don’t have the time or the energy for any of that romantic nonsense.”
    “So who was he?” he asked, not even looking into her eyes as he reached for his beer.
    “Who was who?”
    “The guy who gave you such a negative outlook on love.”
    He wondered for a moment if she would take offense, but her soft laughter told him she hadn’t. “Uh, remember who you’re talking to? Jason Turner’s daughter sitting over here?”
    Jake had brought his mug to his mouth but hadn’t yet sipped. He slowly lowered it. “Your father is the one who convinced you you’re better off being alone?”
    “For the most part.” Her eyes shifted, she wasn’t telling the whole story, but at least she was opening up a little.
    He wasn’t willing to risk her shutting down by pushing into areas she didn’t want to discuss. Still, she’d brought it up—again. She’d mentioned her father’s romantic issues during their walk. “Just because he’s had some bad luck?”
    “I’ve seen my father fall in and out of love so many times the word has simply lost its meaning. I’ve come to realize he’s in love with being in love.” Her mouth twisted. “Then there’s Tabby, my sister.”
    The name hinted at what she was probably like. “Older or younger?”
    “Older. Divorced once, on her second engagement since. She hasn’t quite nailed down that true love thing, either, though not for lack of trying. A lot.”
    “And what about Madeline?”
    “Not interested.”
    “Not even a chance you’re wrong about that, huh?”
    She shook her head. “Nope. Not worth it.”
    He pointed to her glass. “It’s more than half-full.”
    She pointed to his. “Yours is almost empty.”
    “Easily remedied.” Reaching for the half pitcher, he topped up his mug. “See? It’s all in your perspective.”
    Maddy frowned, though he’d swear he saw a hint of unguarded humor in her eyes. It was quickly gone and her manner returned to aloof, unaffected, unmoved. “Perspective doesn’t change fact. And I really don’t know why we’re even talking about this. We’re here, together, because of a charity obligation, not out of any real interest or—” her voice faltered for the first time