Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(83)

“I didn’t know Libby was married.” His brow crunched with a perplexed look.

“She isn’t.” It seemed a little ridiculous for the two of them to be standing in her doorway chatting like this. “Roy, please come inside.” She reached for his hand and gently brought him into her condo.

He glanced around as if seeing it for the first time. Robin resisted the urge to tell him that she hadn’t changed residences in the last week.

“I’m grateful to hear you’re not ill.”

“Roy,” she said, and hesitated. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. She certainly didn’t and he seemed just as much at a loss for words, and so they just stood there staring at each other.

“I’ve … been doing some thinking,” he blurted out.

“Oh,” she said, just as quickly.

“About what you said about … you not being a replacement for Sally.”

Robin’s knees felt like they were about to give out from under her. She sank onto the sofa. As soon as she sat down, Roy did, too. He was so close to the edge of the chair cushion that for a moment she feared he might fall off. She waited for him to speak. He was the one who seemed to have something he wanted to say.

“Basically, you’re right. I was looking for a woman who would step into Sally’s shoes, someone who would make my life the way it was when she was alive.”

“That woman isn’t me,” she said, and while it saddened her to admit it, she couldn’t change who she was no matter how deeply she cared for Roy.

“I realize that now. It dawned on me that I wasn’t attracted to you because you’re like Sally. You’re not in any way, shape, or form like her.”

All Robin could do was stare at him.

“Sally would never get a tattoo.”

So he’d noticed that. Instinctively she wanted to thrust her arm behind her back. Pride demanded she didn’t.

“I admire you because you’re decisive and direct,” Roy continued. “You have a strong work ethic and you care about the law, about helping those who are willing to accept help. Too many of us have become jaded and cynical when dealing with the criminal element.”

That was true. Her mother worried that that was happening to Robin, and perhaps it was. Robin had a reputation at the courthouse for being hard on criminals and defense attorneys. Her attitude toward those who broke the law was unyielding. She believed in stiff consequences. But she didn’t care what others thought of her, save one man … Roy Bollinger.

“I came today to drop off the soup. I assumed you were sick so I’m not really prepared, you know, to talk about this.”

Robin wasn’t about to let him go so soon. “You’re here now, though,” she argued.

“That I am,” he said, and stared down at his hands. “First of all I want to apologize for being obtuse. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I promise you I’ll never ask you to play bridge or go dancing unless that is something you want to do.”

“That’s in the past, Roy. But if it eases your mind, your apology is accepted.”

“Thank you.” His gaze connected with hers. He actually almost smiled, as if she’d lifted a heavy burden from his shoulders. “I was hoping you’d be willing to give me another chance.” He paused and seemed to be awaiting her response.

“I’d be willing …”

“In that case, I’d like to ask you to have dinner.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight,” he echoed. “If you’re free, that is, or tomorrow or the day after tomorrow—or any day you suggest.” He smiled completely now.

“Tonight would work.”

“Great.” He stood and reached for her hand, bringing her to her feet. He frowned when he saw the tattoo. “What is that, anyway?” he asked.

“A Chinese character,” which was the same thing she’d told anyone else who’d asked. She and the tattoo artist were the only two people who knew its meaning; well, other than those who were fluent in Chinese.

“What does it stand for?” he asked, and then glanced up when she hesitated.

“It’s a little embarrassing, actually,” she said, resisting the urge to pull her hand free. If she hadn’t craved his touch, even in the most innocent of ways, she would have. Just being this close to him made her feel light-headed. In her entire life Robin had never felt this strongly about any man, not even her husband, as brief as her marriage had been.

“The tattoo embarrasses you now?” Roy asked.

“Not really.”

“Then the meaning?”

“Not that, either,” she admitted.

“Then what embarrasses you?”

She held her breath for several seconds before she was willing to tell him. “My feelings for you.” Robin stared at him, unable to breathe, unable to even blink.

“Feelings?” Roy asked, his voice low and carefully modulated.

Turning her wrist so he could see her tattoo again, she said, “I haven’t told anyone what this Chinese character means, but I’ll tell you.”

His gaze held hers.

“Libby and I had a bit too much to drink and decided we would each get a tattoo. Actually she wanted one. I didn’t, but I went to the tattoo parlor with her anyway and helped her decide on a butterfly.”