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If only, he thought, entering his office. If only he hadn’t said anything. If only she’d listened when he’d tried to explain. If only his father hadn’t been a mean SOB who wanted nothing more than to take out his anger at his sorry life on his only son.

But it had all happened, and there was no going back. He picked up the paper with Reggie’s number on it and smiled.

Maybe the past couldn’t be undone, but there was always the present and the future. It seemed to him that Reggie had gone out of her way to make both a little more interesting.

Chapter Eight

Dena told herself she was just being neighborly. A half hour into Snacks and Wine, she realized Micah wasn’t going to show up, which meant he was missing out on all the yummy bruschetta goodness. As the owner and therefore hostess of the event, it made sense to ensure all her guests were happy. To that end, she went into the kitchen, put several bruschettas on a plate, grabbed a beer from the beverage refrigerator and hurried across to the walled courtyard by the carriage house. She knocked once and took a step back, more for his safety than because she was being polite. She had a bad feeling that there was a fifty-fifty chance she would want to throw herself at him the second he opened the door.

Not only was the man fifteen kinds of gorgeous, but she was still reliving the tingles from when he’d touched her. The fact that she’d felt tingles while fighting nausea was a testament to how powerful his—

The door opened. Micah grinned when he saw her, sending heat and more tingles all through her body.

“Dena, hi.” He glanced at the plate she held. “If I won’t go to the appetizers, you’ll bring them to me? I’m not sure that’s the lesson you want me to learn, but I’m not going to turn them down.”

He stepped back, an obvious invitation. She told herself to act normal and not simper or preen—good advice considering she was bad at both.

She walked into the downstairs suite, heading directly for the small table and chairs in the corner. When she’d set down the plate, she pulled the bottle of beer out of her jacket’s front pocket.

The smile returned. “I thought the event was Snacks and Wine,” he teased.

“It is, but you wanted a beer before, so I assumed that was your preference. I can go get you a glass of wine if you’d rather.”

“A beer is great. Thanks. Want to join me?”

Oh, could she? Dena reminded herself of the pledge to pretend normalcy and shrugged out of her coat. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

He crossed to the kitchenette and pulled out a mug. “The owner of this establishment thoughtfully provided me with a tea selection. Want something herbal?”

“Yes, please.”

While he heated water in the microwave and opened his beer, she took a seat at the table. A quick glance at the living area showed her that Micah was relatively tidy and that he’d brought more than one guitar with him. She could see at least three cases propped up against the wall.

He carried over her mug, along with a small plate for the tea bag. When he was seated, she said, “Thanks again for helping out in class. The kids loved your presentation. They’re going to be talking about it for days.”

“I was happy to help. It was fun for me, too.”

“I wish we still taught music, other than the monthly assembly. It’s such an important part of learning. But we just don’t have the budget. How did you learn to play?”

“I taught myself. I was always interested in learning, and I picked it up fairly easily. Once I decided I wanted to get serious about starting a band, I did odd jobs to pay for lessons.”

“You were determined.”

“I was.”

She looked at him and found him studying her. The sensation of having his full attention was unnerving.

They were sitting relatively close together. She could easily stretch out her hands, and then they would be touching. Of course, then he would recoil in horror and she would be humiliated, but right up to that point, the fantasy was pretty fun.

“How did you learn about pressure points as a remedy for morning sickness?” she asked, more to distract herself than because she wanted the information.

Micah frowned. “Why would you ask that?”

“Wasn’t I supposed to?”

“But you know about . . .” He leaned toward her. “You didn’t google me?”

“No. Should I have? I’ve been busy with school and the B and B.”