The Way Home by Irene Hannon Read Free Book Online Page A

he might be willing to offer her a few crumbs of information? What kind of man did she think he was? he thoughtindignantly. He opened his mouth to set her straight, then suddenly recalled some advice Gram had once offered, which had always held him in good stead: Think before you speak. And put yourself in the other person’s shoes before jumping to conclusions.
    He stifled his sharp retort and instead took a moment to study the woman across from him, looking for the first time past her superficial beauty. There was spirit in her deep green eyes, and intelligence and sensitivity, he realized. Her posture was defiant, but the subtle quiver in her hand as she reached up to brush a stray strand of hair back from her face was more revealing. To the world she might appear brash and assertive and so ambitious that she was willing to push the bounds of ethics for the sake of a scoop, but suddenly he knew better. Amy Winter had principle. And character. Yes, she wanted success. But not at any price.
    He admired her for that, admired her for setting clear boundaries and taking a stand. After all, she really didn’t know him, he reminded himself, and the crime beat was filled with seedy characters. With her looks, she’d probably been propositioned more times than she could remember as a trade-off for information. Once more he felt a surge of anger. Not at her this time, but for her. She’d obviously been subjected to offensive behavior and suggestions often enough to make her suspect his motives.
    Instinctively he reached out to touch her arm, but at her startled jerk, he withdrew his hand immediately. He could feel her tension quivering almost palpably in the room. She was like a young colt, herealized. Skittish and suddenly unsure and ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. It was not the behavior he’d expected from the sophisticated, glib, always-in-control newswoman he’d encountered up until now.
    â€œLook, let’s sit down for a minute, okay?” he suggested gently.
    She eyed him warily, trying to read the expression in his eyes. The man was like a chameleon, changing from moment to moment. She could deal with the difficult, evasive assistant prosecuting attorney. She was used to that type. She could also deal with men who thought they could barter for favors. Unfortunately, she’d had experience with that type, too. But the way Cal Richards was looking at her now—with compassion and concern and a disconcerting insight—threw her off balance. And for a woman who liked to be in control, that was not a pleasant sensation. After all, she might know that confrontation made her uncomfortable, but she’d always done a good job hiding that from the world. Until now. For some reason, she had a feeling Cal had picked up on it. And that was downright scary. A “danger” signal flashed in her mind, and somehow she sensed that it would be a lot safer if he left right now, if they forgot about this date and—
    â€œPlease.”
    The single word, quietly spoken, and the warmth in his eyes, melted her resistance. Even though she had a feeling she was making a mistake, she did as he asked and gingerly sat on the couch, folding herhands tightly in her lap. He sat beside her, keeping a modest distance between them.
    â€œI think we need to clear the air here,” he said, his gaze locked on hers. “I was only teasing a few minutes ago. For the record, I do not indulge in, nor condone, physical affection except in the context of a committed relationship. It seems that might be one of the few things you and I agree on. Besides keeping my mugging out of the news, that is.”
    He smiled then, his eyes reassuring and warm, and Amy looked down, twisting her hands in her lap, feeling like an idiot for overreacting. There was no way she could doubt his sincerity, and a flush of embarrassment rose to her cheeks. Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his