mention of her father's death.

Jonathan Cassidy had been the only one to understand her, to understand that she wanted to be free of her mother's social whirl.

Of her mother's social web.

He'd been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer midway through her senior

year and died six months later, thinking she was going to marry Graham.

Caitlin hadn't had the heart to tell him otherwise.

By the time Graham had left her, her father was too weak to upset.

But, oh, she could have used his support then.

He was the only one she could have talked through the pain with.

She'd had to do it all on her own.

She had gone on a trip to Paris.

The one she had meant to surprise Graham with.

She had wanted to give him Paris for their honeymoon.

"He died the summer I graduated."

Her voice was stoic as she stared straight ahead.

He remembered a kind, patrician-looking man with prematurely silver

hair and an easy laugh.

Jonathan Cassidy had been the kind of father he would have chosen for his own, if he had been allowed.

Graham glanced at Caitlin.

Her profile was rigid.

She probably didn't take sympathy any better than he did, though that

surprised him.

He thought of that last day.

Well, maybe it didn't surprise him at that.

He really knew very little about her.

"I'm sorry. I liked him."

He turned the corner and took advantage of the break in traffic by

speeding up.

They were almost there.

"He liked you, too."

But then, her father hadn't known of Graham's darker side.

Or his more shallow side, she amended.

The silence lingered, oppressive, as loud as war drums within the

car.

He let it go on for a block.

"You don't see much of your mother now?"

Caitlin shrugged.

"We get together once a month or so, if she happens to be on this side

of the continent."

They each kept cursory contact for their own reasons.

Love had little to do with it.

Obligation and duty were the operative words.

She smiled to herself.

What would her mother say if she knew her daughter was getting a ride

back to the store from Graham Redhawk?

Plenty, if she knew her mother.

"After Daddy died, she indulged herself in travel. There always seems

to be a party somewhere she needs to attend."

It was a way of LIFE that held absolutely no interest for Caitlin.

"And you?"

Graham figured that would be Caitlin's chosen place, at her mother's

side entertaining.

That was the picture Regina Cassidy had painted for him that last day. "You're making her turn her back on what's rightfully hers," Regina had informed him coldly.

"If you marry her, I'll see to it that she's disowned."

But it was Caitlin's own words that had made up his mind for him.

Caitlin shook her head, still attempting to concentrate on something

other than the few inches that separated them.

"I'm too busy working to party."

Jamming on his brakes, Graham swore under his breath as a dark sports

car cut him off.

Caitlin suppressed a laugh at the look on his face @"'This thing is large enough to block an entire intersection."

She looked at him before letting her glance drift over the interior of the car.

"What made you buy it?"

He doubted she could u Understand his passion for theeldorado.

The car, like him, had to make its own place in a world that was too streamlined, too fast paced to appreciate things that were different.

"It's a classic. I always liked classic-looking things."

He spared her a long glance just before the light turned green.

His words felt like a warm caress and a slap in the face at the same

time.

"So you once said."

Damn, why was he affecting her like this?

Why was he affecting her at an, especially after all this time?

She wished her shop was located closer to the precinct, or better yet

that she had insisted on taking a cab.

Then he couldn't have strong-armed her into letting him drive her back to her store. She searched for something to talk about that didn't dredge up memories with both hands.

"Think you'll catch the guy who shot that man?"