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This actually brought a recognizable smile to his face. "I reckon you did. You always formed deep attachments, especially to things in your care. I remember you talking to your pet goldfish like he could hear you."
"Goldie." Laura smiled at the fond memory. "He was the best goldfish in the world. Remember that time I filled his tank with Evian?"
Now her father actually laughed. It was short and restrained, but itwasa laugh. Something warm snuggled against Laura's heart. "I nearly burst a gasket. Your mom talked me into buying it for some fancy dinner party and you gave it to the fish. I couldn't believe it."
Laura chuckled, too "Goldie did lead a pampered life."
"That she did. You always needed to take care of something. The doll, the goldfish, the neighborhood cats. It was in your blood." They stopped at a red light, and Laura turned. She froze at his expression, without his usual anger, without his typical frustration. He looked as if he was truly trying to see her… and understand.
"I've always liked taking care of things," she said quietly. "I guess it's just part of me."
They weren't talking about a doll anymore, not a goldfish or a stray cat. They were talking about Jeanie, her beautiful daughter, and the decision to bring someone into her life to care for, the most amazing someone in the world. It was the perfect segue, the ideal time to discuss why it had been so necessary to have Jeanie, even if she hadn't yet found her soul mate. Only she couldn't bring herself to voice the words, couldn't take away the small bit of camaraderie that had formed. Thus she didn't say a word more, nor did her father, as the light turned green, or as they travelled the remaining minutes to the hospital.
Someone was waiting for him outside the door, and in seconds he was whisked into a waiting wheelchair. He gave a gruff thank you as he left, and for a second he just watched her, contemplating, observing. She smiled ever-so-slightly. "Goodbye, Daddy."
He nodded and was gone.
She felt strangely joyful as she stopped by the volunteer office, like some heavy load was a sliver lighter. Her dad hadn't looked at her like that in years. Maybe he was finally trying to understand her, to share her perspective. For the first time in endless moments, there was a chance to reform the relationship she believed perished so long ago. She smiled as she made her way to City Hall. Perhaps the impossible was possible after all.
Aidan was pleased.
Like an early holiday present, she was there when he arrived, fresh and lovely and more tempting than a fifteen thousand dollar bottle of Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand Cru. She was sitting tightly in the spindle back chair, her eyes unfocused, absently twirling a soft ringlet. How he longed to run his fingers through her hair, to have the right to get close, to comfort her.
Down boy, he commanded, as he approached his skittish quarry. He needed to stay focused, keep his eye on the ultimate goal. First, he needed to discover the secrets she so clearly hid. Then he could figure out why she affected him, and more importantly exactly what to do about it.
She seemed to instinctually know when he took the seat next to her, bringing a surge of satisfaction. He was glad he wore the Armani when her eyes widened. She licked her lips; he resisted the urge to taste them.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
She smiled a hello, and her skin heated to an adorable pink. In stark contrast to the wild and sexy look of the day before, she wore a tame and sophisticated pale pink outfit. She was probably trying to be conservative and had no idea the silk blouse and knee length skirt outlined those delectable curves to perfection.
“I see you’ve gone for a different look today,” he commented. “I liked yesterday’s quite a bit, although you, of course, look stunning in both.”
Her cheeks stained red at the compliment. “You like the I’m-Running-Ridiculously-Late-and-Got-Caught-in-a-Hurricane Look?” She scrunched up her nose.
He laughed. “I thought of it more as a free-spirited look. It suited you.”
“Hi, you two.” They looked up to see Candace, bestowing a smooth smile. Aidan nodded and Laura grinned a greeting, as the mayor placed a hand on the reporter's shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Laura nodded and rose. As she turned to follow Candace into the hallway, he called after her, “You’re accompanying me to the carnival this afternoon, aren’t you, Ms. Blake?”
Snorting softly over his use of her last name, she nodded. “For the story, of course.”
“Of course.” He forced himself to stay still as Laura accompanied Candace out of the room, taping his foot with uncharacteristic impatience. He was eager to resume his questioning and discover her secrets. For a minute, he waited, pretending to study notes he had long since memorized. He truly liked the people of Pine Ridge – they were a kind and honest lot – but right now all he could think about was Laura. How long should he give her?
What was he thinking? He shouldn't give her any time. She had sensitive information about him, and right now she was having a secret conversation with a close friend. There was a reasonable chance the conversation would pertain to him and his secret. Maybe this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. He got up.
As he crept casually towards the hallway, he pushed aside an unexpected pang of guilt. He wasn't doing anything wrong. She had crash landed into his home, invaded his personal life and trespassed into his world, so why couldn't he take a dip into hers? Of course, if the conversation had nothing to do with him, he would turn around and leave; it's not like he was interested in her personal business. Well, perhaps if the conversation could further his knowledge about her in general, or if she needed help, or… well, hell, he was going to listen no matter what it was about.
It didn't take long before snippets of conversation drifted through the hall. The women were speaking in hushed whispers and could only be heard thanks to the sound-carrying properties of the narrow corridor. Aidan stopped around a corner and pretended to read his papers.
He heard the middle of Laura's sentence. "…told you everything?"
"Yeah, she did," came the muffled reply. "Honey, are you all right?"
"Hanging in there." In stark contrast to the playful defiance she showed him, now she sounded frustrated, overwhelmed. It brought fresh guilt, and the urge to help in any way he could. "I just want this to be over. I have to decide whether to tell him, if I even have a choice."
He stiffened. Tell him what?
