I never saw him touch his sister like this.

Though I'd be happy to do this all day, we had work to do. So I sat back and curved my hand against his cheek, not something I'd have done before this talk, but we were closer now. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Rob said in apparent surprise. Then he pulled my palm down so it was open, facing up, and with one fingertip, he traced a curve. "You..." Then he repeated the motion on the other side, joining the invisible lines. "Are good for me."

As he released me, and I curled my fingers instinctively, I realized he'd drawn a heart on my hand. Fl.u.s.tered, I tried to downplay my role in this conversation. "Avery wasn't right for you. Anyone who cares would say the same."

"Not everyone sees me like you do," he answered.

Tiny shivers washed over me as I replayed how good it felt in his arms. "Their loss."

Our eyes met for a long moment. I fell into the deep blue, briefly veiled by the thick fringe of his lashes when he blinked. His jaw was lightly stubbled, his mouth soft with the hint of a smile. I wished for some kind of secret message hidden in this silence, but it was enough that Rob seemed to be in a better mood; I considered cheering him up for a job well done.

"Thanks," he said, clearing his throat. "Ready to get to work?"

When we got to Rob's place, the dining-room floor was ready to be stained. He must've been up half the night, completing preparations, but he didn't reveal any hint of how exhausted he must be. That was when I realized fully how much he'd mastered the calm facade-to protect his privacy and keep the world at bay. People made the mistake of thinking he didn't feel much, but it wasn't that way at all. Everything was just hidden like a deep, deep well, and then sealed shut with an iron lid. Wistfully, I wondered what it would be like if he let me in. In retrospect, my crush seemed embarra.s.singly juvenile, based mostly on, OMG, he's so hot. But there was so much more to him. Because after getting to know him better, I was falling hard. I couldn't write it off as infatuation; these feelings were real.

He seemed oblivious to my inner turmoil. More cheerful now, he showed me the proper way to apply the stain. I was surprised when he damped the wood with meticulous care. At my puzzled look, he clarified, "It's the best way to make sure the stain soaks in. I'm glad you're here, this is actually a two-person job. I'll apply the stain, then you go behind me and wipe it off."

That seemed counterintuitive, but he was the pro, and it wasn't like I minded working so close. At some point, I needed to back off, invent a reason why I couldn't see him every day, but I wasn't heartless enough to do it the day after he broke up with his girlfriend. With luck, I'd get the receptionist job, solving this dilemma without any need for complicated machinations.

By the time we finished the first coat, I was incredibly sticky. No euphemisms, I just wasn't as tidy as Rob. Fortunately, he'd foreseen that we needed an exit strategy, and we finished on the side by the living room, not the far wall.

He laughed when he saw I'd managed to smear it on my shirt. "That probably won't come out."

"It's well worth the sacrifice." The floor looked fantastic, a smooth shade of golden oak that brightened the s.p.a.ce. "Does it need another coat?"

"I don't want it darker, so I'll probably do a satin finish seal next."

I nodded, like I completely understood what he was talking about. "What color for the dining room?"

"White ceiling and baseboards. I haven't decided on the walls yet."

"Lemon-yellow would be pretty." But that might be too girly.

"Come with me to pick out the paint...I'm not much of a color guy. You could probably guess that from the tan bedroom."

Maybe I was reading too much into this, but it seemed too personal to help him decorate, like imprinting myself permanently on his house. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. I trust you."

Nothing he could've said would have made me happier. "Then I'm in."

Before we ate lunch, he sent me upstairs with special solvent to clean up. It was no wonder he'd snickered; I was a mess. I yelled down the stairs, "Do you mind if I shower?"

"Go ahead," he called back.

I'd used the bathroom before. Like his bedroom, it was finished, remodeled in blue and white tile. The s.p.a.ce didn't have much character, but the workmanship was sound. He needed some fluffy bath mats and pictures on the walls, maybe some candles and good-smelling soap. But he'd said decorating wasn't really his thing. His house would be simple when he finished, waiting for some woman to add the finishing touches. A pang went through me, so sharp I couldn't meet my own eyes in the mirror.

I used the chemicals on my hands to remove the stain, then I soaped them, rinsing the stuff off my skin. Afterward, I hopped in the bath to wash up quickly. It gave me a silly, illicit thrill to use Rob's soap and shampoo, but I shut those feelings down fast. Rob needed time to get over Avery, and in his eyes I was still just a supportive friend.

Fifteen minutes later, I came out with wet hair; not my hottest look, but I felt much better. This wasn't the normal way to attract a guy-I knew that-but Rob wasn't the type to be drawn by cleavage shirts, fancy hair or makeup. It seemed like only honesty could pull him.

Rob had BLTs and potato salad waiting down the hall in his room. Taking the plate, I settled in the chair beside him with a happy sigh. "I eat better here than I do at home."

"My mom made the salad. She thinks I'm living on ramen."

"The woman doesn't give you enough credit," I said absently. "n.o.body does."

He shot me a shy, pleased smile, and his response came out soft, hesitant. "I...like hearing that."

"It's the truth," I said around a bite of sandwich, before I could think better of it.

s.e.xy. Talk with your mouth full, Lauren.

But he wasn't even looking at me. Rob tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling with an inscrutable look. "Until we started hanging out, I didn't even know how bad I felt. Like, it was normal." He curled a fist and set it against his chest. "To have a knot here constantly. But the more I talk to you, the looser it gets. Until I can't feel it anymore, and it's like I'm taking my first deep breath in a long time. Did you ever have that?"

"You mean not realizing something hurt until it stopped?"

"Yeah."

"Leaving school was like that. I didn't want to admit I was different. You know how many mornings I freaked out silently about going to cla.s.s?"

"Because you hate being around people?"

It was impressive he knew that. Even Nadia had bought it when I reinvented myself in high school, changing my personality, my habits, everything. She never questioned that I'd turned into a social b.u.t.terfly when, in fact, I was just a caterpillar with a pretty parachute. But ultimately, living a lie made me miserable. With my personality, there was no way I could work as a lobbyist without a constant barrage of anxiety attacks.

I nodded. "And you know, maybe I should be strong, get over it and be normal. But that feels like shaving my edges to fit in the wrong slot."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Rob said. "It's not like you're afraid to leave the house or can't buy milk from the Stop & Go. So what if you don't like people?"

That much was true. My social anxiety didn't prevent me from accomplishing routine tasks. It was more that I'd realized that being a lobbyist would require constant interaction on a level that horrified me. As for college, I hated the parties that other people seemed to view as the Holy Grail, and the only way I could cope was to become someone else. Also, I drank a lot, more than I'd liked to admit. Though I wasn't a full-on lush when I left, I could've easily turned into one of those people never spotted without a gla.s.s of wine.

"I was just in denial," I said.

"About what?"

"The fact that I'm computer dork and always will be. I'm more comfortable behind a screen than joking around at a party. Only booze makes the latter possible. And drinking led me to some questionable life choices."

"Like what?" I could tell from Rob's expression that he didn't expect me to say anything truly shocking.

How cute, Lauren thinks she has a dark past.

It wasn't like I'd killed anybody, but I did feel bad about hurting Max, my former housemate. I hadn't realized he really liked me until it was too late.

A contrary impulse made me mutter, "f.u.c.king my roommate, for example."

"Why was that dumb?" From the slight widening of his eyes, he hadn't expected me to bring up s.e.x; he radiated a sort of reluctant curiosity.

"For so many reasons. But that wasn't the stupidest thing I ever did."

"Maybe I shouldn't ask." Finally, Rob was looking at me as if he understood this wasn't a joke, and I wasn't playing around.

I shrugged. "So don't."

"But now I'm curious."

"Well?" I prompted. "Are you asking?"

"I guess I am." He shifted to face me, eyes steady on mine.

Was I really telling him this? Nadia didn't even know. But the scare convinced me I had to rethink everything, coming on the heels of another blunder. I couldn't tell him about that one.

"Drunk Lauren got caught-by a cop-while giving a BJ in a moving vehicle. That's a misdemeanor, by the way. Indecent exposure and reckless driving."

"Did you get arrested?" That wasn't what I expected him to ask.

"The cop gave us both a Breathalyzer test. Luckily, the guy I was with pa.s.sed. I didn't. The officer decided my judgment was impaired and let me off with a warning." I couldn't face Rob, so I stared at my hands, preparing for the brotherly lecture about my abysmal behavior that was sure to follow.

"I can't talk about this with you," he said huskily.

I raised my head, puzzled. "Why not?"

His eyes were storm-dark, not angry. Something else. An emotion I'd never seen in Rob. "I'm human, Lauren. d.a.m.n. Like you said before, I'm not your brother, and that mental picture? It's...distracting."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

"Oh." Since I'd almost resigned myself to the idea that Rob would never see me the way I viewed him, I had no idea what else to say.

His cheeks reddened. "Great. Now you think I'm a perv."

"Are you kidding? No. But I didn't tell you that story to...entice you or whatever." Though if I'd thought of it and had known it would work, I probably would have.

"You have more sense."

"I do?" I raised a brow.

"Definitely."

"I'm not even sure what we're talking about here."

Rob sighed, setting his plate on the bookshelf behind us. "I'm saying I understand that you'd never go for me, that's all."

I couldn't read his tone; it bothered me, but there was a complex a.s.sortment of emotions striving for supremacy, too many to be easily sorted. So I studied his face, hoping for a clue, but his features were impa.s.sive, except for the fact that he couldn't hold my gaze. His lashes swept down, effectively severing eye contact.

"You don't know that." Maybe it wasn't good for my pride, but they said the truth shall set you free, right? Maybe partial honesty could earn me a day or two of liberty. "I had a real thing for you when I was thirteen."

A fleeting smile curved his mouth. "I know. You were pretty obvious about it. The year I was seventeen, you didn't say a single word to me without stuttering and turning red."

"Well, there you go, then. At any moment, I could leap on the opportunity to make my adolescent fantasies come true."

He shook his head. "Funny, but no. Girls don't want me once they grow up. Or after they get to know me."

"Are you crazy?" I demanded.

"It's the truth, Lauren. I'm not a guy women dream of settling down with.... They don't go out with me once, then start planning our futures. I'm the one they sleep with before they meet Mr. Right. Anyone who ends up with me, she'll just be settling."

I'd noticed that Rob didn't have a lot of confidence, but this was the first time I realized how deep the fissure in his psyche ran. "That's absolute bulls.h.i.t."

"You think I haven't seen it often enough to work out the pattern? I'm the fling, the rebound guy. Sometimes they use me to make someone else jealous because I make good arm candy. But I never get the girl at the end."

"Maybe you're reading the wrong stories," I said softly, then swallowed, battling a rabble of b.u.t.terflies. Confessing this didn't mean I was asking him to date me; it just seemed like his ego needed a boost. "If I was writing the book, you'd definitely be the main love interest. You're sweet, funny, considerate, protective-"

"All of those qualities could apply to a German shepherd."

"Not considerate. Big dogs get fur and mud all over the place without a second thought. Probably, they'd tip over the garbage, too." I didn't mention his hotness. Rob had heard enough about his appearance to last a lifetime. "You're also ingenious and hardworking, plus you have this extraordinary ability to see things other people miss."

"I know you're just trying to cheer me up, but...it's working." His smile did ridiculous things to me. Really, his mouth should come with a warning label.

"Yeah? Good. Now I don't want to hear any more c.r.a.p from you, Robert Clayton Conrad. I happen to think you're wonderful, and my opinions are always right."

"Is that so?"

"Ask anyone. Nadia will back me up."

He laughed. "That's no fair. You guys have been teaming up against me for years."

But he seemed much more upbeat when we went back to work. When he dropped me off at home several hours later, he confirmed, "Interview tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll be ready."

"I'll be here at half past."

My mom was home when I came in. She had dinner on the table and there was a strange man adding the silverware. His back was to me so I only saw that he had narrow shoulders. Since I knew about Stuart, I wasn't shocked exactly, but I did stop short.

d.a.m.n, some warning would've been nice.

"I need to wash up before I'm presentable," I called, heading straight up the stairs.

"Okay, the rolls need ten more minutes anyway."

Wow, if she was baking fresh bread, it meant she really wanted the meal to go well. In my mom's mind, fresh-baked goods equaled fancy. I didn't necessarily disagree with her. So I took a quick, second shower to rinse off the remodeling sweat and blow-dried my hair just enough so I didn't look like I just got back from the gym. Then I put on a decent pair of jeans and a nice sweater.