Wise Folly by Rita Clay Page A

much time. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
    Then he was gone and the room seemed empty.
    ****
    A feeling of lethargy filled Dianna as the midnight-blue Mercedes made its way up the freeway toward Irving. S he r ested her head against the headrest.
    Noah’s capable hands were at the wheel, music on the radio was slow and dreamy, and she closed her eyes. ... A hand on her shoulder brought her quickly awake again and she stared into laughing gray eyes.
    “We’re just about there,” he informed her, smiling at her sleep-bewildered expression.
    “ I'm sorry,” she mumbled as she ran her fingers through her hair and tried to bring it to some semblance of order. She should have known he knew the way to her house.
    Noah slowed down as he wound through the older neighborhood, turning into the cracked concrete drive as she stared in concentration at the small house she had called home for the past six years. She had never looked at it through someone else’s eyes before , but now that she did, found it dismal. Its once white paint was flaking and yellowed. The green shutters were dull and sun bleached, some of the slats broken or missing. It was with shock that she remembered how it had looked when she’d moved in: all bright and shining, the small neglected garden crying out for a hand to tend it . Now it was as old and tired as Dianna felt
    Once out of the car, s he unlocked the door and led him into the living room, suddenly shy in Noah’s company. She had been angry and tense with him before, but never shy.
    She motioned to the large overstuffed chair in the comer of the small room. “If you’ll have a seat I won’t be long.”
    “Take your time.” His gaze covered the walls and furniture of the room with one all-encompassing glance before settling on her.
    ‘Tm sorry if you’re used to better surroundings, Mr. Weston, but be it ever so humble, it is my home.”
    One brow shot up as he gave her a steely-eyed gaze. “Which means?”
    “Don’t look down your aristocratic nose . I f your tastes are more lavish I suggest you return to your fancy penthouse.” She didn’t know why she was so defensive. The furniture might have been out of style , but it was clean and homey and the room was pleasant to the eye.
    Peaked brows rose over those intimidating gray eyes.  “I was just thinking what a comfortable home you’ve made for Tabby. The house is more than adequate and I wasn’t doing any more than satisfying my curiosity by looking around.” His smile mocked her, one pitch-black brow rising. “Don’t you look around when you’re in someone else’s home, Dianna?”
    She stared at him, and then turned , ignoring the question . ‘ I'll be through in a minute.”
    She walked quickly down the hall toward the bedrooms. She heard him say something about making coffee but didn’t stop in her rush to get to Tabby’s room. She didn't want to admit, even to herself that she was rushing to get away from him .
    She grabbed a small suitcase from the back of the closet and began packing a few of Tabby’s things, including favorite books and toys, then quickly made her way to her own room and threw her own things in another suitcase. It didn’t take long—perhaps ten minutes—but it was time enough for her to wonder how she could go through with Noah’s plans. Her nerves were wound so tight she could barely breathe and her thoughts were helter-skelter in every direction but common sense. She had to talk to him, she had to call this charade off!
    Noah stood by the kitchen sink with a cup of coffee in his hand , staring at the la vish garden she and Tabby had tended so lovingly. He turned slowly at the sound of her footsteps and fixed his gaze on her, making her staccato footsteps falter.
    “Finished?” He took another sip of hot coffee.
    She cleared her throat “I’ve thought a great deal about your . . . your offer, Noah. I want to call off our arrangement . I’ll pay for Tabby’s operation some