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coming into his own—thinner, more wiry than he was today. Back then, he’d been clear-eyed and avid—hungry for the job. Today she’d seen something in his eyes, a world-weariness and fatigue she would never have expected to see in the eyes of the young man she knew. She suspected that, more than the sensual quality of his eyes, had been what captivated her that afternoon. For the first time she’d seen depth in his eyes and couldn’t help wondering how they’d gotten so deep.
    The doorbell buzzed again, spurring her to action. She pulled the door open and saw him, the real him, not distorted by the glass in the door. He stood inside the glass storm door, one hand braced on the jamb.
    He offered her a faint smile, a sardonic bend of his lips that reminded her of the first time she’d opened that door for him. It had been a Saturday night, a day her father hadn’t worked. He’d spent all day cleaning the house, or rather overseeing her clean it, since men didn’t stoop to doing anything so unmanly as wielding a dust cloth. He spent the latter part of the evening readying himself as if he were preparing himself for a date.
    He’d made her dress, too, for what reason she couldn’t fathom since no one was coming there to see her. Besides, the only person they were expecting was his new partner, some rookie he was training, a kid barely five years older than her own fifteen years. What was the big deal about that?
    When the doorbell rang, he’d literally pushed her toward the door. “Go answer the door, girl. He’s liable to think you don’t have any manners.”
    A year ago, she might have been excited to meet the man who worked with her father, but nothing excited her now. Not since her life ended and all that remained was the existence she had left. She trudged toward the door. With wooden movements she pulled it open. On the other side stood the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He smiled at her, just a hint of a thing, like he had some secret he might whisper in your ear if you let him.
    She didn’t smile back, simply stared into his eyes colored a warm chocolate brown shaded by long sooty lashes. It wasn’t a look of interest, though she knew half of her friends would have swooned already just from looking at him. Her gaze was an assessing one, one that sought to gauge his character. He appeared not to notice.
    â€œYou must be Alex,” he said. “Your father’s told me a lot about you.”
    I bet , she thought without rancor. But certainly not everything. “Please come in,” she’d said, stepping aside for him to enter.
    She hadn’t admitted to herself then, but that smile of his got to her. It still did. It spoke of a charm he didn’t turn on or off but simply possessed, like the color of his eyes or the cleft in his chin.
    But she wasn’t any more ready to make a fool of herself over him now than she had been then. She stood silent, waiting for him to speak. This was his show. If he wanted something from her, he’d have to ask for it.
    â€œHello, Alex,” he said finally, as if to confirm he’d figured out who she was. “It’s been a long time.”
    For a moment, Alex simply stared at him, his words echoing in her ears. It’s been a long time . Part of her wanted to hit him with her fists and rail, “Whose fault is that?” She wasn’t the one to disappear. She was the one whose phone calls went unanswered or even acknowledged.
    She’d told herself that if he wanted something from her he’d have to ask for it. But she saw in his continuing silence that he wouldn’t even give her that.
    With a sigh of capitulation, she said. “I suppose you want to come in.”
    â€œThat was the plan.”
    â€œThen don’t let me stop you.” She moved aside and gestured for him to enter.
    He did as she suggested, stepping over the threshold, crowding her