“You going to be all right?” Tanner asked in a gentle voice.
She cracked her eyes open. He knelt near her feet on the cold porch, his brow furrowed in the white light from the half moon.
“You made me have a panic attack,” she blurted out.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Has this happened before?”
She nodded and then looked away, watching the tree branches shiver in the breeze. Her mouth was dry, her throat swollen, her confidence leveled.
“I’m too attracted to you,” she whispered. “And you’re a journalist. I swore I’d never…date another one.” She looked back and gestured with her hands, desperate not to hurt his feelings and yet equally desperate make him understand. “It scares me.” Her honesty almost did her in. “It’s not you.”
His deep sigh mixed with the night sounds of crickets and rustling leaves. “I’m sorry I came on so strong, Meredith. I couldn’t seem to help myself.”
His apology helped her regain her footing. “I meant what I said. I won’t ever go out with a journalist again.” Her voice was flat. “I made a vow.”
He stood and held out his hand. “We’ll save that topic for another day. Let’s go inside. I’m sure everyone is wondering where we went.”
Knowing what his touch did to her, she didn’t take his hand. Pushing out of the chair took effort. The cool air brushed her hot cheeks, making her realize she needed to find her bustier. Oh, God, he’d helped her take it off.
He picked it up, studying it in the dim light before holding it out. “What’s the DW for?”
She took it from him with shaking hands. “Turn around.” She fitted it back on. Of all the luck… Of course she was wearing one of the ones Jill had embroidered. It was black with red stitching. She had almost made it to the back door before his hand grazed hers.
“Are you going to tell me?”
She turned. The kitchen light skittered over his face. She was relieved not to see any pity there. She wouldn’t have been able to take that.
“No, it’s none of your business.” She rushed inside.
The broom was in the closet, just like she remembered. He took it from her before she could swish it across the floor.
Her hands trembled as she moved over to the counter to pour out the coffees. She’d hit bottom again. She’d thought divorce was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but now she wondered if trying to rebuild a life wasn’t harder. The carafe shook in her hand.
“Put the coffee down before you burn yourself,” he said gently from over her shoulder. He walked over to the pie, and sliced it like a pizza, dishing the pieces onto plates like a pro. “Take these. I’ll clean up, and Jill can do the coffee.”
She turned away from his intent gaze. As she headed for the door, she could hear the sound of broken china scraping against the floor. It might as well have been the broken pieces of her heart.
Who was she kidding? Flirting with a handsome man had given her a panic attack. Was it simply because he was a journalist? She hoped to God it was, because otherwise she was never going to find Mr. Right and write her article.
Going bald or being hit by a falling piano wasn’t good enough for Rick-the-Dick. Maybe toothpicks under his perfectly manicured fingernails would do the trick.
She pressed the plates to her chest, hoping for some words of wisdom from her now vociferous alter ego.
But even Divorcée Woman had gone silent.
***
Tanner slid the broken china from the dust pan into the garbage. Christ, when had he become the King of Heel-dom? Crowding a woman to the point of a panic attack? He’d been attracted to her, and he’d stopped thinking.
He kept forgetting she’d gone through a traumatic divorce.
And that she’d been married to Sommerville. If the prick could screw with Tanner—someone who’d interviewed terrorists—what kind of shit had he done to his own wife? Even divorced, he was taking it to her with a sledgehammer.
Her pale, clenched face filled his mind. He hadn’t felt that helpless in a long time, listening to her short, choked breaths, and holding that strong, trembling body.
“Are you okay?”
He swiveled.
Jill edged closer. “I take it Meredith had a panic attack.”
He set the empty dust pan on the floor and shut the pantry door. “Yes.”
She patted him on the arm, and then headed for the coffee pot. “Don’t take it too hard. Meredith’s been through a lot, and she’s doing so much better. It’s not easy trying to build a new life.” The cups clinked as she lined them up. “She must have had a strong reaction to you, or it wouldn’t have happened. Could you grab the cream? Bottom drawer.”