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in another ridiculous fantasy involving Dr. Liam Barton and the kitchen table.
    Something must be wrong with her. Why was her temperature rising about a hundred degrees? She hadn’t been attracted to a man in years. But yesterday at work, his finger on her chin had made her toes curl. Chins and toes were unrelated, she was sure. And those blue eyes…she couldn’t remember the last time a man’s eyes had made her want to lose control instead of run in the other direction.
    Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could remember—it was the night she’d spent with him.
    “Actually,” he continued, interrupting her reverie, “you’re right. Money was good in Dallas, but money isn’t everything. My life was nonstop work. Not to mention twenty-nine is a little old to be hanging around bars. I’d like to settle down and this town seems like a great place to do it.”
    Elisa cringed. Laura had been right about him, and so had she—he dreamed of becoming a dad soon, she was sure of it.
    “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night,” he said, his voice suddenly quieter.
    “Are you kidding? I stand naked in front of my window all the time.”
    There was that word again. Must have been a Freudian slip. She hadn’t been quite nude—thankfully. But Liam made her feel so exposed and vulnerable, the robe hadn’t provided much comfort.
    In spite of the summer heat, she usually left her bedroom window cracked at night so she could hear the breeze and the neighbor’s wind chimes. For years, the noise had calmed her and kept her mind from wandering to things like Brett, Liam and the baby so she could sleep. From now on, she’d have to remember to close the curtains during any mad rushes to the bathtub. And get back that spare key.
    “I’m talking about the discussion,” Liam said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
    Oh. That.
    “It’s no big deal,” she replied, trying hard to believe it. “In fact, I wanted to show you the rest of the house, but I, um, had to leave. I guess Justin told you everything is okay with Laura and the baby?”
    “Yes. I’m glad to hear it.”
    He fell silent but left his gaze trained on her, like he wanted to say something else. Every time he looked at her like that, so seriously, she knew what was on his mind.
    She couldn’t let him ask her what happened. If he did, she would have to make up an answer, and she did not want to lie to his face. He didn’t deserve that—not that he deserved to be unaware that he’d fathered her child, but the child hadn’t made it and there was no point bringing that up nine years after the fact.
    “Would you like that tour now?” she blurted when he opened his mouth to speak.
    He closed his lips and smiled, letting her change the subject. “Sure.”
    “This way.”
    She got up and walked to the living room, with him following. But as she stood in the middle of the house, a sad feeling settled inside her. She was about to give the world’s most boring tour, because she had nothing to say about the place. She hadn’t bothered to do anything with it that would make it her own—she had only focused on how soon she could leave.
    “This place looks barely lived in. Have you been here long?”
    She sighed. Liam had noticed the lackluster environment. How could he not? Her parents’ thirty-year-old furniture didn’t come with a lot of personality. Or color. She really should have done something about all that green.
    “Nine years. I’ve been in Windy Flats since I left school.”
    He opened his mouth again then closed it, and resigned to nod. No doubt he was too stunned to respond.
    Elisa hurried to explain her strange living habits. “But I’ve only been in this house for five of those years. I spent the first few with my parents. They live in Florida now.” She hesitated then nodded toward the stairs. “Let me show you the second floor. That’s where I spend most of my time. I only come down here to cook.”
    “I see.” Liam fell