Conviction of the Heart by Alana Lorens Page B

more like a martyr?
    “No wonder you’re bitter.” He dug in the cardboard box for one of the remaining cannolis.
    What should she say? Hell, yes, she was bitter. But would a confession frighten him off? Such revelations had scared others away. She studied Nick’s face, but saw nothing there of hostility or worry. She guessed he was made of stronger cloth.
    She should protest that she wasn’t. More polite, wasn’t it?
    Besides, it wasn’t any of his business.
    But she really did like him. Maybe enough.
    If she was really to have some sort of future with this impertinent, handsome man, he’d know better. She bet he knew better right now. “What would be the point?” she said at last. “I’ve got more positive directions to use that energy.”
    A slow smile came to his lips, and she felt she’d been…approved. She looked away, trying not to blush, not needing his approbation in any way.
    All the same, she was pleased to have it.
    “What else is on the agenda, counselor?” Nick made a point of looking at his watch. A glance at the microwave showed her it was nearly three o’clock. A stubborn small voice in her head insisted she could have done all this work by herself. But she would still have been cutting limbs by dark, with blistered hands. Yes, this was a much better outcome.
    “Can I buy you dinner?” she asked. “The least I could do after—”
    The front door opened, then slammed. The sudden sound startled her into silence. Her fingers gripped the back of the chair nearest her. Who had come into her house? Did Greg Morgan’s reach come this far? Nick got to his feet, watching her face, her reaction warning him something might be amiss.
    Footsteps bounded down the hallway to the kitchen, and Riviera poked her head around the corner. “Mom, whose truck is—” She stopped as if she’d come across an angry rattlesnake, staring at the man in the kitchen. “Whoa.”
    Her sister, more reserved, followed, peering over Riviera’s shoulder. “Well, now.” She eyed her mother with an arch grin. “So this is what you do while we’re not here. Invite men over to play.”
    Embarrassed, Suzanne shoved her hands in her pockets. “I thought you were staying at Nana’s for dinner.”
    “Too much homework,” Hope said. “They brought us home early. Gee, I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.” Her expression said she absolutely hoped she was.
    Suzanne coughed, wishing she had one of those candy bars that the ads said would allow her the time to buy a few minutes to think what to say. “Girls, this is Nick Sansone. Nick, these are my daughters, Hope and Riviera.”
    “Delighted,” he said. He brushed off his hands before reaching out to shake theirs. “You’ll have to excuse my casual attire. Your mother had me hauling branches and digging holes today. I’m afraid I’m just not used to all this hard labor.”
    Riviera cheered, eyes sparkling. “You mean we don’t have to clean up the yard?” She went to the window to confirm and turned back with a huge smile. “Yippee!” She dropped her bag where she stood. “I’ve got to pee.” She disappeared down the hall.
    Hope shook her head and snagged the bag, tucking it out of the way. The expression in her eyes was decidedly calculating.
    “Nana didn’t want to come in?” Suzanne asked her.
    “Not when she saw you had company. She thought it might be a client.” She turned to Nick. “Are you a client?”
    The only hint of his reaction to her daughter’s directness was the slight raise of an eyebrow. “No,” he said.
    Impatience in the set of her shoulders and her jaw, Hope waited for more of a response, but Nick just grinned at her. She turned to her mother, hands on her hips.
    “Nick is a detective for the Pittsburgh police,” Suzanne explained. “We met at court.”
    “He’s a cop?” Riviera said, catching the tail end of the conversation as she returned. She ducked over to the old ceramic cookie jar and grabbed a handful of vanilla