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ventured too close to the truth and hit a nerve. The thought sobered her. Did she?
    “Tell me more about your dad, if you want.”
    Shelby glanced down the street. “Shouldn’t Robert be coming soon?”
    Harrison chuckled. “In case you haven’t noticed, Pops is giving us privacy. He’ll be along in a few minutes.”
    Closing her eyes as a way to avoid that piercing gaze that saw so much, Shelby envisioned her father’s handsome face. “Daddy used to sing to me every night even though he couldn’t carry a tune.” A hint of a smile curved her lips. “He taught me to ride and jump. He also taught me how to stand up for myself when a girl made fun of my braces in seventh grade. Danced with me in the living room so I’d know what to do before my first boy-girl party. Smoothed things over with Mama when I was fourteen and broke her favorite vase. No matter how busy he was, Daddy always made sure to be there for school programs, dance recitals, riding competitions and birthdays.” She lowered her voice. “The things that mattered.”
    “Know what I like in what you said? You called him Daddy. My little sister does the same thing. Southern tradition or not, I think it’d be one of the most incredible things in the world to hear your child call you that. Not much could compare.” His smile was gentle. “I like how your voice goes soft when you talk about him. It’s incredibly sweet.”
    She ducked her head and hid her smile. “Not many call me sweet.”
    “Maybe not in business, but I’m looking beneath the surface. That’s where you find the truth.” Standing, he held out one hand, waiting. “Time to go. Robert’s coming.”
    Shelby allowed Harrison to pull her to her feet. “It would seem you have many layers, Mr. Reed. I imagine you have any number of female admirers who find you sweet.” Great. What on earth possessed her to say that ? Sounded like she was fishing. Which she most definitely was not.
    Harrison shot her a grin. “Ah, don’t presume to know everything about my life, either, Shelby.”
    Touché .
     
     
     
     

6
     
    Harrison half-listened from the backseat as Pops regaled Shelby with the history of local tourist spots and a few lesser-known places. When she spoke, her voice was lower than he would have expected, her laugh generous, her smile well-earned and genuine once it finally surfaced. With her aristocratic profile and classic features, she’d be an artist’s dream. Her makeup was minimal, but it accentuated her features to their best advantage.
    In some ways, Shelby Harmon was a delicate rose—much like the one Pops gave her in honor of her mother—vulnerable and fragile. But he’d glimpsed an indomitable inner strength beneath the fine bone structure. Beautiful without question, her complexion was smooth and healthy, if not a bit pale. She most likely spent more time in her office instead of in the outdoors having fun.
    At first, Shelby had come across as being pretty formal, a privileged debutante turned professional businesswoman. Not rigid or unyielding, but just shy of being uptight. No nonsense. A professional who wore expensive tailored suits and pulled her hair back because she didn’t want to be bothered. No fuss. The type of woman to speak her mind, yet not be sensitive, clingy, or needy.
    Without a doubt, Shelby came from old money, revealed by her proper diction, posture, and innate elegance—when she wasn’t on a slippery hillside. The thought brought a smile to Harrison’s lips. Although her clothes must come from a high-end retailer, she had a small rip in her pretty blue blouse in an inconspicuous but potentially embarrassing place. Far be it from him to point it out. A few strands of her long, silky blonde hair stuck out from her scalp at an odd angle, blown about by the breeze wafting through the open window in Robert’s car.
    When Shelby had stumbled, slid, and then half-fallen on the castle grounds the day before, she’d brought out protective