He frowned and moved toward her, and she found herself taking a step backward and then another. She didn’t see the tree root behind her and stumbled. Her hands flailed, but strong arms kept her from falling. The rich pine scent of his aftershave filled her lungs.
“For the love of God, I’m not inviting you to my home to have a fling, as nice as that sounds. I’m not asking you to move to Los Angeles. I’m not even asking you to commit to arelationship. There are no expectations. This is just a weekend. A weekend to get to know each other better. If you want, Travis can come too.”
“He. . .he can?” Did she even want Travis with her?
“Sure. He deserves a break. You’ll both be my guests.”
“Well, I don’t know. I...I need to think about it. Talk to Travis.”
“I’ll need to know soon. The trip is in less than two weeks. I have to arrange plane tickets.”
She swallowed. “I’ll give you an answer by the weekend.”
“Fair enough. Now that we have that straight, I have one more thing to show you, and then I’ll take you home.”
It struck her then: Hank pointing out the stars under the tree where he used to make wishes was not an impulsive decision. He’d led her to such a romantic setting to make his case—told her about his dreams as a boy to show her a vulnerable side he didn’t share with others, to build a path with her to further intimacies. His goal all along was to get her to agree to a weekend trip to Los Angeles—to his home. And God help her, his plan had worked. She was actually considering the idea.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, like they were the owners of the home going for a nighttime stroll, and pulled her along. She was caught up in the whirlwind known as Hank Haverill, and she didn’t have the strength of will to withstand the tempest. They headed through the house, where he shut off the lights, and then out to the waiting limo.
“After you, madame.” Hank held the door and ushered her inside, before getting in himself and motioning to the driver. “Step on it, Louis.”
“Right, sir.”
The car accelerated, and they were off to some mysterious destination. Hank tucked her into his side like she belonged there. She could have objected, but when was the last time she’d been held by another human being and felt this content, this safe? Still, it wouldn’t do to get too comfortable and oblivious to her surroundings. “We’re heading east?”
Hank chuckled and the sound reverberated in her ear. “Good deduction, Watson.”
She pushed herself away from his shoulder and pressed her face against the window. “Okay, Sherlock. It’s clear you’re not going to tell me. So give me a clue. We’re going toward the university. Did you go to school there?”
“No, I only spent a year in college—in New York, not Ohio.”
“The art museum, then?”
“Nope.”
“Wait. This is a cemetery. Why are we in a cemetery at night? Isn’t it closed? This is seriously creepy.”
“I come here whenever I visit Cleveland. I pay them extra to stay open.”
“Why?”
“My mother’s buried here.”
His explanation was said without emotion. He turned his face from hers, so she had trouble deciphering his expression.
“You visit her grave?”
“I do. I can’t introduce you to my mom, so I thought this was the next best thing. I don’t visit during the day to avoid questions—I never know if a nosey reporter or curious fan will follow me.” He shifted to look at her, his warm gaze traveling across her face and settling on her eyes. “Mymother would have loved you. Did I mention she liked to cook?”
Bethany shook her head.
“Her chili was so good I sometimes dream about it.” He laughed, the sound almost a caress against her sensitive skin. “She was a strong lady—she had to be to deal with my dad.”
“Was your father really that difficult to be around?”
There was a long pause while he gathered his thoughts. “My father wasn’t physically abusive. His crime was abandonment and neglect. I was ten when he left. Just a boy.”
His voice wavered, then grew bitter. “I begged him to stay. I still remember watching the taillights of his green Ford disappear down the old dusty road in the trailer park where we used to live in Virginia. He never looked back.”
