The hot shower was exactly what Jeremy needed after the long day. This afternoon he’d visited three different properties along the South Shore, looking for the perfect home for his client, Branson Black, who was also a former classmate and one of his closest friends. Black was nearly as rich as Jeremy, but he wanted little to do with the money, which Jeremy couldn’t quite understand. His instructions were to find a property with a view of the ocean and away from just about everything else. Jeremy was all about giving the client what he or she wanted, but he worried that Bran was trying to hide away from life and not just recover from recent trauma.

      Still, he’d found one that he felt was perfect, and under three million. It even came with its own lighthouse, which, of course, was defunct but still lent the property an air of history and uniqueness. He had appointments to see several others during the week, though, before narrowing the choices down to send to Bran.

      Being next to the ocean all day, walking the properties, had chilled him to the bone. He’d warmed himself during walk-throughs and by cranking the heat in the car, but the hot shower and warm hotel were more than welcome once he returned.

      The hotel might be cozy, but Jeremy’s thoughts were not.

      He kept messing things up with Tori. He should have known that she’d start asking questions about his family. She was that type. Girl-next-door, nurturing, home-and-family type. He’d always been able to spot them because theirs had been so very different from his own upbringing. Last summer she’d talked about her mom a lot, and missing her dad, and Jeremy had always changed the subject. She didn’t need to know that his dad had walked out when he was a little boy and that his mother hadn’t been much of a mother at all; she’d left that to the nannies—plural, because his mother tended to hire young women looking to gain some “adventure” by working for rich families for a year or two and then moving on. Some had been nice. Some had been tolerable, more excited about the money and their days off. The last one had had an affair with his stepfather, and that had been the end of the nannies and the beginning of the talk about boarding school. His stepdad had stayed. Jeremy had been sent away.

      But it had been a blessing, really. When he’d finished middle school, he’d been sent to out-of-the-way Merrick Hall. And there he’d found his family—of sorts. Including Branson.

      He tugged on a warm sweater and called down to room service for dinner. When it was delivered forty minutes later, he opened the door to find Tori’s soft face behind the cart.

      “Room service,” she said softly, and offered a timid smile.

      He couldn’t find it in himself to stay irritated. He opened the door wide and let her in, watching her hips sway as she moved the cart into the room. He swallowed thickly. Tori Sharpe was no less attractive now than she’d been five months ago. There was a subtle sexuality about her that was alluring. And when she turned around and the gentle swell of her tummy was visible, his heart gave a little thump. That was his child in there. He had no idea what to do but he knew for sure he wanted to be a better dad than his own had been.

      “It’s late. I didn’t think you’d still be working,” he said, then realized how critical he must sound right now. “Thank you for bringing it,” he added, trying to be less of a jerk. After all, he’d walked out of their lunch like a coward.

      “I waited for you to come back,” she admitted, her dark eyes troubled. “I didn’t like how we left things at lunch, and I wanted to say I was sorry for prying.”

      “You had a right to ask those questions. It’s not your fault I don’t like answering them.”

      She folded her hands in front of her. “You should eat while it’s hot. Let me set this up for you.”

      He watched as she set a place at the small table and chair by the window of the suite, poured his beer into a glass and whisked the cover off his entrée to reveal a glistening steak surrounded by roasted potatoes, grilled asparagus and button mushrooms in garlic butter. It smelled heavenly, and his stomach growled in response.

      “Have you eaten?”

      “I have,” she said. “So please, sit down. I’ll leave you to it.”

      She turned to go and was almost to the door when he said, “Tori? Stay.”

      The moment she paused seemed filled with…well, surely not possibility? There was a change though, somehow. As if the invitation marked a willing step toward discussion. Intention, rather than dancing around the topic or taking the temperature of the situation.

      And when she turned back around and faced him, his stomach quivered. He didn’t let himself get too personally involved with anyone, but he was going to have to with her, wasn’t he? At least if he wanted more of a relationship with his kid than sending a support check every month.

      “Are you sure?”

      He nodded. “I was rude this afternoon. I’m sorry about that.”

      She took a single step toward him. “Neither of us knows how to navigate this. It’s an unusual situation.”

      He gestured to the seat across the table from his food. “Come sit. Do you want some tea? Or anything else sent up?”

      “There’s water on the cart. I’ll grab one of your glasses and have some. That’s all I need.”

      He waited until she had her water and then they sat together. It felt wrong, eating while she wasn’t, but the food was delicious and by her own admission she’d had dinner already. The asparagus was done to perfection and the steak mouthwateringly medium, just as he’d requested.

      “Your chef is very good,” he said. “This is delicious.”

      “Tastes here aren’t terribly adventurous, so he does simple things well and adds a bit of flair when he can. But no one leaves hungry.” She smiled. “Neil has been here a long time, and the rest of the kitchen staff have trained under him. It makes for a consistent culinary experience.”

      The resort wasn’t as glamorous as some he’d stayed in, but he had no complaints.

      “And you’ve been here a long time, too.”

      She lifted her water glass. “Since I was in high school. I started in housekeeping. Then moved to waitressing when I was legal age. Front desk for a while, too.”

      “You trained yourself to know the different departments,” he observed, and her cheeks colored a little.

      “I wanted to be in administration. For a while I was the events manager, in charge of special functions. Then when the assistant manager retired, I applied for the job and got it. This week, I’m acting manager since Tom is away on vacation. Saint Lucia, lucky thing!”

      “And