Strung Out by Kaitlin Maitland Page A

wanted to understand what she was trying to insinuate with this line of conversation. “Explains what?”
    A strand of silky hair had come loose from her ponytail, and she brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. In the soft light her blue eyes were warm and inviting. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, obviously trying to decide how much she could say.
    “Come on; just tell me what you’re thinking.”
    “That it must be nice to have everyone cater to you.”
    He sat back in his chair, mulling the thought over in his head. In his experience, notoriety was worth as much grief as it was benefit. But he could definitely see how someone who hadn’t walked a mile in his shoes could feel as she did. People did cater to him.
    “I’m sorry. That was probably way out of line.”
    “No.” He gave her a warm smile. “I asked you to tell me what you were thinking.”
    She grinned and speared a few home fries with her fork. “I love these. At least you’ve got good taste in breakfast food.”
    “Glad I did something right.” He watched her eat, still struck by her earlier statement. A plan was forming in his head. A possibility that might just allow him to keep Courteney and her father happy without losing this incredible woman who’d become so vitally important in such a short period of time.
    * * *
    Erik steered the tiny car down a narrow drive. He seemed relaxed. His left hand remained carelessly on the wheel, but his right hand continually drifted across the miniscule space inside the car to hold her hand when he wasn’t shifting gears.
    His mood had changed drastically during breakfast. When they’d argued in her apartment, there had been a sense of helplessness. Talia knew a man like Erik was unaccustomed to things outside his control. But now, it was as if he’d gotten past it.
    The last of the fall leaves gleamed crimson and gold against the red and brown brick row houses. The drive kinked abruptly left between the tall homes and opened into a tiny parking lot. Two empty spaces crouched between a hybrid and a minivan.
    He parked the Porsche and turned it off. “I’ve got two spots, but only the one car.”
    “So there’s plenty of room for my SUV when I get it.” Her lame joke didn’t alleviate the butterflies that suddenly invaded her stomach. And his chuckle didn’t tell her why he’d brought her to what was obviously his home in Beacon Hill. Carefully opening the door, she stepped out of the low-slung car and looked around.
    Everything was gorgeous. But it was what you’d expect in a neighborhood where the typical home price was over two million dollars. Garbage cans stowed away securely in their places, carefully tended shrubbery, and no clutter strewn about.
    A set of keys jingled as he swung them around his index finger. “C’mon in.”
    She followed him up a short, steep flight of steps to the back door. Her mind lingered on the idea that once upon a time these homes had belonged to Boston’s upper crust and this had likely been the servant’s entrance.
    “So how long have you lived here?” She asked the question to break the uncomfortable silence.
    “I’ve owned this place for four or five years. I couldn’t stand living with Mother in Brookline anymore.”
    “Isn’t there a time in every little boy’s life when he has to move out?”
    He unlocked the door and swung it open. “He can try. But a sister like Desiree is almost impossible to get rid of.”
    Talia forgot what she was going to say as soon as she stepped inside the kitchen. Granite countertops, cherry cabinetry, an old-world fireplace, center island, and top-of-the-line appliances covered every wall. It was a dream come true for someone who’d been making do with a temperamental range and a microwave. She could almost see two kids sitting on the bar stools, having an afternoon snack after getting home from school.
    She turned away, forcing back the fantasy that would probably never happen. “You can’t tell me