Irene Hannon - All Our Tomorrows

Seeing her again had brought all those memories back. So he shouldn’t be surprised that the incident had unsettled him. Nor should he be surprised that the thought of contacting her again made him uneasy.

But he knew it was more than that. Knew that his feelings reflected something far deeper and less obvious, something he’d fiercely suppressed since the day Michael had escorted Caroline through the door of his mother’s apartment and introduced her as his fiancée.

The fact was, from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, David had been smitten. There was no other word for it. Nor any basis for it. He was an adult, after all. He’d been thirty-four when they met, not some teenager whose hormones could be whipped into a frenzy by the mere sight of a pretty face. In fact, he’d been so stunned by his unexpected reaction to her that he couldn’t even recall much about that first meeting. He supposed he’d managed to sound coherent, because no one had acted as if he was behaving oddly. But he’d been so thrown that for the rest of Caroline and Michael’s three-day visit, he had made it a point to avoid one-on-one conversations with her. He was afraid his tongue would get tangled up or, worse, that it would sabotage him and say something inappropriate. Such as, “I know you’re engaged to my brother, but would you marry me, instead?”

That, of course, wasn’t even a consideration. David had never intruded on Michael’s turf. Not as a child, not as a teenager, not as an adult. He loved his brother too much to do anything to jeopardize their relationship. In fact, if the truth was known, he’d always had a case of hero worship for him. He’d admired his sense of adventure, his willingness to take risks, his easygoing manner, his go-with-the-flow attitude. Not to mention his choice of women. Particularly his fiancée.

But if Caroline’s beauty had bowled him over, he’d discovered other qualities about her in the next few days that had only added to her appeal. She’d been patient and kind with his failing mother, who had enjoyed some of her better days during their visit. He’d been struck by her lively intelligence, her generous spirit, her sense of justice and her passion for her work. In short, he’d been knocked off his feet.

In retrospect, David doubted that Caroline had even noticed him much during that visit. She’d had eyes only for Michael, and the soft light of love on her face when she looked at him had made David, for the first time in his life, jealous of his brother. It had also made him think about all the things he’d missed as he focused on launching his career to the exclusion of everything else—including love. Oh, he’d dated his share of women. But he’d never even considered a serious commitment. The trouble was, even though he’d opened the door to that possibility after her visit, he’d never met anyone who measured up to Caroline.

David knew that his impressions of her had been fleeting. Too fleeting to form the basis for any sort of rational attraction. Yet even as his brain reminded him of that, his heart refused to listen. For some reason, in that one brief visit, she’d touched him in a way no other woman had, before or since. She’d done so again, at Michael’s funeral, though on that occasion the attraction was tempered by grief. And guilt. Even now, he could explain it no better than he had been able to two years before. He’d assumed that her appeal would dissipate over time, but he’d been wrong. The minute she’d stepped through the office door last week it had slammed against his chest with the same force that it had the first time they’d met.

As for how to handle his feelings—David had no idea. All he knew was that they were irrational, inappropriate and unsettling. Not to mention guilt-inducing. Caroline had loved Michael. She still did, if her reactions last week were any indication. And he couldn’t intrude on his brother’s turf. It hadn’t felt right two and a half years ago, and it didn’t feel right now. Even if the lady was willing or interested. And Caroline didn’t fall into either of those categories. So his best plan was to make the call, ask for the favor and forget about her.

But considering the way his feelings had returned with such intensity after a two-year gap in contact, he suspected that plan was destined for failure.

“I have David Sloan on line three for you. Do you want to take the call?”

Caroline’s hand jerked, making her pen squiggle across the copy she was editing. With dismay, she eyed the erratic red line sprawled across the typed page. So much for her usual neat, legible edits.

Why was David calling her? When he’d walked out the door last week, she’d been convinced that she’d never hear from him again. There had been a sense of finality about his visit, of closure. Now he was back. And she wasn’t anxious to talk with him. It had taken her several days after his last visit to rebury the memories and pain it had dredged up. She didn’t want to go through that again.

Still, she was curious. David didn’t strike her as the kind of man who did things without a great deal of thought. Nor without good reason. Whatever the purpose of his call, she assumed it was important.

Shifting the phone on her ear, she laid down her pen and rotated her chair so that her back was toward the newsroom. “Go ahead and put it through, Mary. Thanks.”

A second later, David’s voice came over the line. “Caroline?”

“Yes, hi. I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon.”

“I didn’t expect to be calling. But we had a discussion earlier this week at the Uplink board meeting about the need for publicity, and I offered to contact you to see if the Chronicle might be interested in running a piece about the organization.”

So this was a business call. She hadn’t expected that, either. But it was much easier to deal with. The knot of tension in her stomach eased.

In journalist mode, she swiveled her chair back toward her desk, reached for a pen and drew a pad of paper toward her. “We’re always looking for good story leads. But I have to confess that I’m not familiar with Uplink.”

“That’s the problem. Not enough people are. And that hampers our ability to fully realize our mission.”

“Which is?”

“We target gifted high school juniors in difficult environments and match them with mentors in participating businesses for summer internships to provide them with a taste of a real-world work environment. We hope the experience gives them not only a stimulating summer job, but an incentive to continue with their education. Then we follow up with ongoing support groups to ensure that we don’t lose them after their internships.”

“You mentioned some of this last week. Sounds worthwhile.”

“We think so. But the organization is only three years old—still a fledgling. There’s a lot more we could do if this really takes off. For that to happen, though, we need to heighten awareness.”

“What sort of article did you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure. One of the board members, Rachel Harris, handles publicity and communication. She can follow up with more information if you’re interested in pursuing this. My role was just to get a foot in the door.”

“All right.” Caroline jotted the woman’s name down, then laid the pen aside. “Have her give me a call. If we can find a good angle, it might make an interesting article.”

“That would be great. We’d appreciate it.”

“Like I said, we’re always looking for good stories. But I have to admit I’m curious about how you became connected with the group. This seems far removed from your previous job.”

The momentary silence on the other end of the line told her he was surprised by the question. And so was she. She hadn’t planned to introduce anything personal to their conversation. The comment had just popped out.