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colors for their models,” Zola said. “Gretchen, which company did you say called yesterday?”
    “Hmm,” Gretchen murmured, her gaze still locked on his mouth as she brought the necklace to her lips. “No idea.”
    He and Zola settled on opposite sides of the kitchen table for dinner, with Gretchen between them. Throughout the meal, Zola made several more attempts to bring up modeling, but Kyle ignored the bait, rubbing his hand along Gretchen’s thigh under the long tablecloth whenever she opened her mouth to follow up on one of the leading comments. All in all, despite the lack of meaningful conversation, the evening progressed to a far more enjoyable conclusion than the restaurant dinner they’d attempted over the weekend.
    Much later, Gretchen walked him to the door.
    “Come to my house Friday evening, and I’ll cook you dinner.” He pitched his voice low so the invitation didn’t carry across the room.
    She smiled. The sensuousness need in her expression proved she’d interpreted his plan to include much more than dinner. “I’d love to.”
    Those simple, heartfelt words made the three days until Friday three days too long. He wanted Gretchen more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything. His days of hiding from the world had ended. With Gretchen at his side, he intended to rejoin life.
    Not model again. But on Friday he intended to make love and discuss his options for the future. Her business sense and money smarts would help devise some palatable suggestions as soon as he convinced her to give him up as her mother’s ticket to rebuilding success.
     
    ***
     
    Gretchen came no closer to finding the right modeling job to lure Kyle back into the business, but on Friday evening as she drove to his house she didn’t care. Unlike the last time she’d made this journey, she didn’t have a business motive.
    She craved hot sex with a drop-dead gorgeous man who by all rights shouldn’t have given a woman like her the time of day. She wouldn’t question his interest, not when each passing moment in his company allowed her to see him as more than a pretty face. Of course, she still had no problem staring at his beautiful face and body forever, but she anticipated their conversations and his view on the world, too.
    Wearing a multicolored print blouse she’d bought just for him, she checked her impulse to skip as she sashayed up the front walk. She pressed the bell, dancing her feet in place.
    After staring at the closed door for a full minute, she rang again and then knocked in case the bell was broken. It seemed functional last time. Had Kyle forgotten their date? Maybe he’d changed his mind about wanting to see her. Her heart plunged.
    She continued to stand there, having no trouble keeping her feet still as she pulled out her phone to call him. The phone rang but sent her to voice mail. She left a disheartened message and dropped the device back in her bag. Seeing no choice but to return to her car, she stepped back just as the lock clicked and the door swung open.
    Kyle wore a haggard expression, his face pale. “I’m sorry. I forgot,” he said, his voice flat without a hint of remorse. “Tonight’s not a good time.”
    “Are you sick?” She remembered the phone call from his doctor’s office.
    “No, nothing to do with me.”
    But he was obviously distraught. She stepped over the threshold, despite the lack of invitation. Closing the door behind her, she dropped her overnight bag to the floor and rested her palm on his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
    For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Remember the friend I told you about, the one who joined the military, the one I was supposed to sign up with?”
    She nodded, an awful sense of foreboding uncurling in her stomach.
    “His convoy was hit by a roadside bomb.” He blinked hard. “Brett was killed instantly.”
    “Oh no.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him. “I’m so sorry.” Her own eyes