The Way They Were
but he hadn’t expected her to be so untouchable. And why had he opened his big mouth and said they had fourteen years of questions between them? He had no business getting anywhere near a woman who’d burned him so bad the scars still itched. Rourke picked up the folder and opened it. Kate’s face stared back at him, lips slightly parted, eyes soft and alluring. He cursed and slammed the folder shut.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 5
    “ All I know is when I called her ten weeks later, she was married.”—Rourke Flannigan
     
    By ten o’clock the next morning, Rourke had leased an office next to the post office. The idea struck him yesterday two seconds after Abbie stalked back in the door. He was not a man to be pinned in a room, especially one without a working computer and it was impossible to conduct business with a thirteen year old manually flipping through channels and making snide comments under her breath.
    Even if he only stayed in Montpelier a week, the office would provide a refuge for him. He was most comfortable in an office setting, among business associates who understood the protocol and didn’t step outside those boundaries.
    Thanks to Office Max, Fed Ex and American Express, he’d assembled all the conveniences of a regular working environment. The place was a bit cramped and he’d had to settle for pressed wood rather than solid cherry, but it would suffice. He had his privacy and could begin his own investigation of Clay’s accident. He already regretted offering Kate his services yesterday but she’d seemed so dejected he’d blurted out the first thing that came into his head. Again, proof she could still get to him.
    How was he supposed to help her with a lawyer and remain objective? It couldn’t be done. On the other hand, could he ignore potential information that might put the company at risk? What could it hurt to pry around the edges a little and get the names of the law firms that wanted to speak with her? Most of them were ambulance chasers anyway, slick talkers who preyed on the injured and grieving. Kate needed someone to look out for her interests. Didn’t she?
    By the time he finished his second cup of coffee, he’d convinced himself she needed his help. He refused to think of the way his pulse tripped when he thought of her blue eyes, her soft curves, her— The front door jangled and seconds later, Angie Sorrento bee-lined toward him with a pissed off look on her face.
    “Out with it,” she said, gripping the edges of his new desk.
    “Hey, easy on the furniture, it’s only painted particle board.” She’d probably like to rip the place to shreds, him included.
    She threw him a cold stare and jammed both hands in her back pockets. “Why are you here?”
    Same old pain in the ass. He leaned back in the leather chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “I see your disposition hasn’t changed.”
    “Out with it.”
    He considered another sarcasm but settled on a different ploy. “My niece needs fresh air and this place has plenty of it.”
    “You mean that little paste-waif running around in a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt with earbuds stuffed in her ears? Fresh air? I doubt she’s seen the outside of a room in six years.”
    He shrugged. “What do you want, Angie?”
    “I want you to leave Kate alone.”
    “I hadn’t realized I was bothering her.”
    “You are.” Her nostrils flared, her dark eyes narrowing on him as though she might lunge across the desk and choke him with his Armani tie. She would actually be attractive if she ever got over the perpetual PMS hump. Doubtful though. The woman had been a witch since the first time he laid eyes on her and she hadn’t improved with age.
    “How long are you planning to stay?”
    “A few weeks, give or take.”
    “Why?” She worked her way around the desk and planted all five foot two of fury and force within arm’s reach.
    “I told you—”
    “Oh save it. I’m not a fool and I’m not the innocent Kate is.
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