“Then why give her more reason to?”

Prepared to protest heatedly that everything she did was for Lia, Annabelle opened her mouth. Adam tipped her hand, sending the sandwich home.

“Eat.”

Once she was chewing, he stood and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a cup of hot tea. He took his place on the sofa again, and the tuna turned to dust in Annabelle’s mouth as she felt Adam study her. She forced herself to keep eating, but was acutely aware of his attention as it fastened on her loose blouse, her too-roomy skirt, then moved back up to her face.

He said nothing, but from the corner of her eye, she saw his expression tighten and turn grim. He didn’t like what he saw.

She knew she had lost weight recently, too much weight, but the stress of the past couple of weeks had been almost unbearable and food hadn’t gone down easily. She had come through so much in her life— the premature death of her parents, leaving college to care for her sister, starting a business in the home her family had left her, possessing at the time more hope than experience.

She’d made it through all that, still standing, still going strong. But this past couple of weeks…

Lowering the sandwich, Annabelle felt her last vestige of energy drain as if she were a keg and someone had pulled out the stopper. She felt tired. Tired and defeated, and so alone it scared her.

The first touch of Adam’s fingers smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear made her heart thunder and shake. Her skin felt like glass, as if at any moment she could shatter from the simple contact of his hand.

She couldn’t look at him, didn’t dare; she didn’t need to look to know his brows would be lowered intently, that the green green eyes would be filled with care. That was one thing, among all the doubts, she never had to question: Adam cared.

After her parents’ death, there had been times late at night when Lia was in bed that the silence in the house had been crazy-making. Adam had been there, glad to talk into the night or sit in utter silence, depending on the mood Annabelle was in. She had needed that. Lord, how she had needed exactly that— a friend whose devotion was unconditional.

Now for the second time in her life she felt like a house in the middle of an earthquake, the very foundation that supported her cracked and shifting, and Adam was here again.

He would offer friendship, and she would try to resist. Because he wouldn’t stay.

Like a dieter who knew from experience that one bite of chocolate would decimate her will entirely, Annabelle would resist Adam’s friendship because one bite was never enough. It might take a day, a week or a month, but he would leave, and she would have to learn all over again how to get through a day without him.

“What’s going on, Belle? You’re edgy. You’re tense. You don’t eat.” Adam’s quietly spoken concern was the opening salvo to get behind her defenses.

“I eat.”

“Aspirin,” he said dismissively. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter. I’ve been very—”

“Busy. Yeah, I know.” He shook his head, impatient with her evasiveness. When he spoke again, however, his voice was gentle, even empathetic, and that made his words harder to take. “I know about Stephens.”

That was it; he said nothing else. Simply, I know…

Well, Annabelle thought, that’s swell. She hated loose ends, and now she wouldn’t have to worry about any. Her humiliation was complete.

She could try the line about her and Steven being mismatched, but why bother? In truth, that was Steven’s excuse, not hers. As far as Annabelle was concerned, she and Steven had been perfectly, almost scientifically well matched. She wouldn’t have gotten engaged, otherwise.

Annabelle had purchased a book entitled, Mate for Life, according to which she and Steven were eighty percent likely to reach their silver anniversary. Those were the kind of odds Annabelle liked.

It was so much more humiliating to be dumped by a man who was supposed to be perfect for you.

“You want to talk?”

Placing the remainder of her sandwich on the plate, Annabelle wiped her fingers. “No.”

Adam nodded. “Mind if I ask you a question, then?”

“I really don’t want to talk about—”

“Have you ever considered that your welfare matters to me? Contrary to what you apparently believe, I can’t turn friendship on and off like a spigot. Not like you can.”

“What? Me?”

“That’s right.” She turned to gape at him and he took full advantage of her attention. “We made a onenight mistake, Annabelle. One night, six years ago. That doesn’t have to spoil the entire friendship. Not if you don’t want it to.”

Spoil the friendship! As if it were a sack of oranges and that “one night” he referred to nothing more than a contagious mold.

Annabelle felt like she could no longer breathe. Emotions whirled and tangled and knotted inside her.

“I cared about your parents,” Adam continued. “They worried about you. Have you ever considered I might need to make sure you’re okay for their sake?”

Had she ever considered…? Of course she had! Six years ago she had forced herself to consider the possibility that his affection for her parents might be the only reason he needed to make sure she was okay.

She looked into his eyes and saw clearly the interest, the decency and concern. And all at once she felt it again, the heat that could fill her until she thought she might burst. The traitorous treacherous need.

Suddenly Annabelle felt like she’d been cornered by a bear. The only two words that seemed to make any sense were the ones she had told herself over and over for the past half-dozen years: never again.

Swallowing hard, she let her voice rise from her gut, deep and hoarse and packed with emotion. “I don’t need a big brother, Adam. I’m fine, Lia’s fine, we’re both fine.”

It was a rejection of everything he had to offer. Adam’s jaw flexed as he studied her. “You make it damn hard to be your friend. Why, Annabelle?” In the silence of the large house, the question seemed intimate and probing. His green eyes compelled her not to look away. “Everyone needs a friend, don’t they?”

Her heart thumped in her throat. “No,” she whispered.

Adam stared at her a long hard moment. “No?”

She shook her head. “I know you promised Lia you’d stay,” she said, forcing herself to speak calmly, “but really…I’d like to be alone.”

She saw anger flare briefly in his eyes. He masked it quickly with a wry smile and stood. “It seems to me we’ve played this scene before, so I won’t ask you if you’re sure. Just tell Lia I’m available if she needs anything and that I meant what I said about taking her to dinner to celebrate before I leave.” He waited for Annabelle’s nod. “So long, Belle.”

Annabelle stood as stiff as a statue, listening to Adam’s uneven gait as he walked down the hall. She heard the front door open and close and managed to work up a moment’s fierce satisfaction. The only reason he was staying in town was his broken foot; as soon as that healed he’d be off diving in Fiji or some-where, taping the mating rituals of stingrays.

At least now he got the picture. She didn’t need anyone walking in and out of her life. This was good. Very good. She was starting with a clean slate.

She picked up the tuna sandwich and took a bite, deciding her appetite had come back. In no time at all now, without so many bothersome personal distractions, she would get her business back on track. She would make sure Lia could attend the school of her dreams. And then she would attend to her own life. Maybe she would get herself some new friends. Good friends. The kind you could ring up to have coffee or share recipes with. Friends who would never ever make her feel like the world stopped spinning when they walked out the door.