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ordinary conversation with ordinary people. Business was his element. That was why he didn’t have a personal life.
    Still, he needed to talk to her.
    He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Could you give me ten minutes?”
    â€œFor what?”
    He smiled as charmingly as he could, deciding to pretend this was a business conversation so he’d get some of his control back. “Ten minutes, Liz. That’s all I want.”
    Liz sighed and glanced at the woman beside her.
    She shrugged. “You could go outside to the patio.”
    Cain blanched. “This isn’t your house?”
    â€œNo.”
    He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, then addressed the redhead. “I’m sorry. Ms.—”
    â€œIt’s Amanda.” She shrugged. “And don’t worry about it. It’s not really my house, either.”
    â€œThen whose house is it?”
    Liz motioned for him to follow her down the hall and into the kitchen. “I’ll explain on the patio.”
    The little girl with the big blue eyes also followed them to the sliding glass door. Liz stopped short of exiting, stooping to the toddler’s level. “Joy, you stay with your mom, okay?”
    Grinning shyly, Joy nodded.
    Liz smiled and hugged her fiercely, before she rose. Something odd bubbled up inside Cain, something he’d never once considered while they were married. Liz would make a wonderful mom. He’d known she’d wanted children, but after his brother’s death, they’d never again discussed it. Was that why she’d left him without a word? And if it was—if what meant the most to her was having a child—how could he possibly make that up to her?
    Without looking at him she said, “This way.”
    She led him to a small stone patio with an inexpensive umbrella-covered table. There was no pool, no outdoor kitchen. Just a tiny gas grill.
    She sat at the table and he did the same. “Whose house is this?”
    â€œIt’s owned by a charity.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she leaned in closer so he could hear her. “Look, Cain, I really can’t tell you much, except this house belongs to a charity for women who need a second chance. They stay at houses like this until they can get on their feet.”
    Cain didn’t have to work hard to read between the lines of what she’d said. He frowned. “She’s been abused?”
    Liz shushed him with a wave of her hand and whispered, “Yes.” Lowering her voice even more she added, “Look, we don’t like talking about this when we’re with the clients. We’re trying to establish them as any other member of their community. Not someone being supported by a charity. We want them to think of us as friends, not benefactors.”
    Following her direction to keep the conversation more private, Cain leaned closer to Liz. The light scent of her shampoo drifted over to him. The smoothness of her skin called him to touch. Memories tripped over themselves in his brain until he remembered this was how she’d been the day he’d met her on the plane. Sweet. Kind. Shy. Reluctant to talk. He’d had to draw her out even to get her to tell him the simplest things about herself.
    That day he hadn’t been bad at normal conversation. He’d wanted to sleep with her enough that he’d pushed beyond his inability to chitchat.
    He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. That was a bad connection to make with her sitting so close, smelling like heaven, while his own blood vibrated through his veins with recognition that this woman had once been his.
    He cleared his throat. “So, this is a charity?”
    â€œYes.” She winced.
    He glanced around, confused. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œHappy Maids donates housecleaning services when one of the Friend Indeed houses becomes vacant. I also stock the cupboards with groceries and cleaning