Holiday Havoc by Terri Reed Page A

gaze sought Sean’s. His midnight-blue eyes were guarded as he stared at her. That explained why he was outside her door all night and why he was so eager to help her paint.
    She was just another “case study” for him.
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    Sean could see the questions in Lauren’s eyes. It pained him to think he’d lost some of her trust by hiding his past from her. As he laid down plastic tarps to protect the carpet, his gut clenched. He’d been trying so hard to avoid this moment. And here it was. Of course the detective would have run a background check on him. Sean should have anticipated having to reveal sooner rather than later his past failure. Shame bore down on him like a mallet hitting its mark. He didn’t want Lauren thinking badly of him. He wasn’t sure when her opinion of him had become so important to him. But it had.
    Thankfully, the detective had departed for the local police station with the promise to return later, while Aunt Mary had gone to the grocery store. Now Sean and Lauren were alone. The air was charged with nervous energy. His and hers.
    Lauren glanced warily at the makeshift art studio he’d constructed. She opened the drapes, which let in some natural light. She moved to settle on a dining chair with her back to the window and stared at a large, unfinished landscape on an easel that he’d brought from her house. This picture was of the quaint California town of Carmel-by-the-Sea. He recognized the Carmel mission in the background. One half of the canvas showed the variations in the color of buildings and sidewalks, flowers appeared to dance in sunlight. The other half of the canvas had the penciled etchings that completed the picture.
    She was so talented. He wanted to help her reclaim her gift. The way she bit her lip as she contemplated the easel revealed so much vulnerability and made him wantto take her in his arms and hold her close. “Lauren,” he prompted.
    The deep red sweats she wore today showed off her pale skin, shiny, raven-hued hair and warm, toffee-colored eyes.
    Attraction flared white hot. He forced himself to take a deep, slow breath as he regained control of his pulse.
    â€œWhat happened six months ago?” she asked.
    Resigned to the deal he’d have to make, he held out a brush. “I’ll tell you while you paint.”
    Her mouth quirked. “A bribe. Is that a counseling technique?”
    â€œToday it is.”
    She took the brush, ran her fingers over the bristles in a wistful caress. A yearning to have her touch him so gently, so lovingly arched through him.
    Moving to the table, she picked up a tube of paint, opened the cap and squeezed pigment onto a plastic palette. Her hands stilled. She sucked in a breath.
    Concern lanced his heart. He moved to her side, ready to offer whatever she needed.
    â€œI haven’t smelled paint since that night.”
    â€œSmell is very evocative,” he stated quietly, resisting the urge to reach for her. “Think of a time before that night. A time when you were happy painting.”
    She closed her eyes. “The day my father gave me my first set of paints.”
    A soft smile touched her lips, drawing Sean’s focus. He longed to taste her lips, to feel the soft tenderness of her mouth beneath his. He forced himself to step back as she opened her eyes.
    â€œYour turn,” she said.
    He ran a hand through his hair. A knot formed in his chest. Best to just get this over with. “I was a high school guidance counselor. Six months ago…a teen boy I was working with committed suicide.”
    A small gasp escaped from Lauren. She faced him fully, her expression so compassionate he had to look away.
    â€œHow awful. How devastating for everyone.”
    â€œIt was.” His heart hurt to remember John’s distraught parents. Their anger and accusations. They’d blamed him. And they’d had every right to.
    â€œBut why did you quit? Surely, the school