Conviction of the Heart by Alana Lorens Page A

to stick together, you know. Help promote each other.”
    She rinsed out their mugs at the sink, and Nick waited till she was done, then washed his hands, the gears in his mind turning. Women banding together to beat men, that seemed to be a common theme in Suzanne’s thought patterns. For someone so liberal, equality of the sexes would seem to be a given. Something had happened to her, something that had shifted her world view. He dried his hands on the paper towel she gave him and took a seat at the small dinette table. “Tell me, why do you hate men so much?”

Chapter Nine
    “Who said I hate men?”
    Where had that come from? They were talking about coffee. Suzanne’s psyche prepared to defend the perceived attack, but he raised a hand to stop her.
    “I don’t mean that the way it sounds. Just not the first time you said something very similar. Makes me think you’ve been hurt along the line.”
    She spoke up quickly, purposely creating distance, a skill she cultivated for moments just like this. “Everyone’s been hurt, Nick. It’s part of the human experience. I’m a big girl. I’ve gotten over it.”
    He nodded, and watched her, his dark eyes piercing inquisitors.
    She picked at the blades of dried grass stuck to her shirt, wanting to turn away, but refusing to give in. She should have known once she’d opened the door to her self-sufficient life that these questions would start. All she’d wanted was a little help with her yard, since the girls were gone. And she hadn’t even really asked. He’d volunteered. For yard work. That’s all.
    But just like their dinner the other night wasn’t quite “just” dinner, this wasn’t exactly landscaping without strings. She was in fact a big girl, just as she’d said. She should know better.
    She fussed with the cups again, and sensed at last his gaze had left her and moved on. A glance over her shoulder revealed he’d noticed the girls’ school portraits, framed in bright green, hanging over the refrigerator. He got up to view them more closely.
    She’d steered conversation clear of her daughters, so far, in a purposeful way. Over her years of practice she’d seen many examples of what not to do. One of the most obvious was to keep any potential lover and one’s children separate until a relationship developed. Otherwise, the children could prematurely attach to someone who didn’t stay, causing damage to their ability to form trusting relationships in the future.
    But she knew Nick Sansone wouldn’t stop with a look at some photographs. His was an inquiring mind. “The one on the left is Hope,” she said. “She’s fifteen, and an honor student. Riviera’s thirteen, and she’s in the flag corps at school.”
    “They’re very pretty girls.” He winked. “Of course, how could I expect anything else?”
    The comment allowed her to roll her eyes, as he’d surely known she would, and mentally take a step back. “Thank you. I think they’re beautiful.”
    She poured them coffee even before the pot had finished brewing, and set cream and sugar on the table with two spoons. He took a bare half spoon of sugar. Anxious to have something for her hands to do, she focused on adding sugar and cream slowly to her own cup, the ting of the spoon hitting the inside of her mug soothing in its rhythm.
    Long silence caught her attention, pulled her gaze up to meet his. He seemed to be mulling over something he wanted to say. She could guess what it was. Better for her to bring it up on her own terms, then slam the door on this whole line of inquiry.
    “Their father’s long gone. We haven’t seen him since before Riviera was born.” Her lips pressed together.
    “Incredible.” Nick glanced at the pictures again, the smiling faces clear-skinned and shining in the posed portraits. “So you’ve done this all alone?”
    “We all do what we have to,” she said. As soon as the words were out, she resented herself for being so cliché. Could she act any