He rose as well, shaking his head firmly. “You can’t sleep down there with a broken window. Tonight you’ll sleep up here. I’ll take the couch.”

  “But…” The protest stopped before it started. She read the concern on his face and knew that it wasn’t cold he was worried about. He thought Brian might return.

  Would he? Who knew. The man had gone from apologetic to belligerent awfully quickly. Maybe he’d come back to try again to convince her not to pull her money or go to the bank administration and tell her story.

  No. She didn’t want to face Brian again tonight, and she certainly didn’t want Dean to have to act as her bouncer a second time.

  “I’m going down now to put some cardboard in the window. Do you want to get your things?”

  She nodded.

  She was going to cry. She knew it as surely as she knew rain would follow a violent storm.

  Holding the tears at bay, she followed Dean down the stairs and into her apartment. She grabbed her night things, then stopped to swallow a couple of pain killers for the headache still pounding behind her eyeballs.

  She didn’t cry when she went around her apartment righting furniture, clearing up the broken glass and crushed flowers, and inspecting the damage to her plants. Dean was there, cutting up a cardboard box and patching the window, and she had her pride.

  She didn’t cry when she washed and changed in his bathroom and emerged to find him bundling a pile of sheets out of his bedroom. He had changed the bed-sheets for her, she realized, and that small courtesy was almost her undoing. She bit her lip hard.

  At last she lay in bed in Dean’s spartan room, in his double bed with a plaid bedcover that looked as though it had come from a discount store. A box with some extra computer equipment sat on his dresser. On his bedside table was a lamp, a box of tissues, a cheap clock radio and a pair of socks. That was it. There was nothing personal in the room. No pictures of family, no posters on the walls. It was as impersonal as a hotel room.

  How bizarre.

  Even more bizarre, the room felt comforting, she realized. There was something about Dean that made her relax. Not relaxed enough to forget she’d had a good chunk of her savings stolen, though, but a hell of a lot more relaxed than she’d be downstairs with nothing but a broken window and misery for company.

  She waited until it was dark and quiet and she could hold her tears back no longer, then they came. She put the pillow over her head to muffle the little snuffling sobs that shook her—clenching her fingers against the pillow in impotent rage and grief.

  She hadn’t only lost her money, but her dreams, and her faith in a man she’d trusted.

  She didn’t hear the door open, she only knew Dean was in the room when she felt the tentative comforting touch on her shoulder. He pulled the pillow gently away and stroked her hair in long, soothing motions.

  She sat up, pushing the tangle of hair out of her eyes. “I’m s-so s-sorry,” she sobbed as he drew her gently into his arms. “I can’t h-help it.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Shove over.” So she did, and he sat on top of the bed and put an arm around her shoulders.

  She resisted for a moment, but the broad shoulder was there beside her cheek, warm and comforting. She lay her head against it and sobbed her heart out while he held her and stroked her hair and murmured soothingly.

  The storm of weeping passed and she lay quiet in his arms, noticing that she had thrown her arms around him and was clinging to him as though she were drowning in stormy seas and he were a lifeboat.

  She relaxed her hold and felt the swelling and receding of his chest as he breathed. She again smelled the soap and clean male skin. Against her cheek his bathrobe was warm and soft. Where it gaped in a vee in the middle, she glimpsed a muscled chest sprinkled with dark hair. Out of nowhere came an insane urge to slip her hand inside the robe and touch him.

  What was wrong with her?

  One man had betrayed her and she was throwing herself at her neighbor just because he was being nice to her? She really needed to get a grip.

  She pulled away, sniffing. “Thanks, Dean.” She felt suddenly shy as she dropped her gaze from the lean, muscular chest, only to see his lean, muscular legs emerging from the bottom of his robe. She shoved her hands over her eyes and rubbed away the wetness. “I’m better now.”

  He reached behind him and handed her the box of tissues she’d noted earlier.

  While she blew her nose and wiped her eyes, he said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Did she? There was something so easy about Dean. He was trustworthy and decent, and she knew she’d feel better if she unloaded some of her anger, so she told him.

  “I gave Brian power of attorney over my investment account at his bank.” She stopped and blew her nose again. “It was a convenience thing so I wouldn’t have to go in every time I had a CD come due. It’s all I bought in that account. I wanted safe investments.”

  She bit her lip and wondered if she could say the next part without bawling again.

  The house was so silent she could hear the rustle of bedclothes as Dean shifted slightly, hear his breathing and the sounds of the duplex settling for the night.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Brian took some of the money out.”

  “He did what?” Dean sounded as outraged as she felt. Whatever he’d suspected, it clearly hadn’t been that.

  “He said he invested it for me for a higher return, but that’s not true. He took the money right out of the account for his own use.” She swallowed hard to prevent another outbreak of tears.

  “What was he doing with it?”

  “Playing the stock market. He was always trying to get rich quick.”

  “I bet he sucks at stock picking. Those kinds of guys usually do.”

  She laughed weakly. “I’m guessing you’re right. I feel so stupid.”

  Dean hugged her hard. “Brian’s the one who stole. Don’t get down on yourself. This is his fault. Let’s work on getting that money back.”

  “He’s promised he’ll return what he took—stole—but he’s already lied and cheated. I find it hard to believe him, you know?”

  Dean seemed to hesitate, then asked, “Was it a lot of money?”

  “A third of my life savings. I know it could be worse, but I have plans, dreams. He knew that.”

  He played with her hair absently and she found the gesture amazingly soothing. “He sounds to me like a sneaky bastard. He made sure he had a legal right to invest your money in stocks. Of course, it was totally unethical since he went against your specific wishes. I think it’s worth filing an official complaint against him, though.”

  “I know I was gullible. But he stole my dreams.”

  “If you let me, I’m going to help you get them back.”

  She leaned into him, letting herself take the comfort that she needed.

  “It helps knowing I can talk to you.”

  “Well, that’s something.” He sounded a little sad, but she figured it was on her account.

  “’Night, Kate.”

  “’Night.” She looked at him. There was so little light in the room she could only barely see him, but even so she found she couldn’t look away.

  Dean tilted her chin up and she shivered slightly. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. Not enough for passion, but a little more than friendship.

  She didn’t move, couldn’t, suddenly wondering where this was going. Where she wanted it to go.

  Then he was gone. Before she quite realized he’d stopped kissing her, he was out the door.

  8

  KATE EASED OPEN the lid of the florist box as though a nest of snakes lay coiled inside. There were at least three dozen long-stemmed red roses crammed in the box. Her stomach constricted when she read the card.

  Please forgive me. I love you. Brian.

  She wished she’d been home to refuse the delivery, but she’d been at work blaming her puffy red eyes and pale cheeks on a head cold. Averting her gaze from the blood-red flowers, she marched to the garbage can, but when she opened the lid she couldn’t bring herself to destroy the fresh blooms. It wasn’t their fault Brian was pond scum.

  Forgiveness? Was that what he really wanted? Or was he hoping a few flowers and even more flowery words would stop her reporting him to his bank’s management.

  Irresolute, she stood for a moment with the green plastic lid in one hand and the box of roses in the other. Finally she threw the note in the trash and drove the roses to a local seniors’ home.

  “A donation,” she told a puzzled receptionist.

  The woman glanced at her face and flashed a sympathetic smile. “From a funeral, dear?”

  She smiled back, feeling her lips tremble. “Yes,” she whispered. It was a funeral, all right. For all her foolish dreams. Why had she trusted Brian in the first place? She thought about that as she made her way home slowly. Maybe she’d bought into his plans to go places—he’d seemed to her the epitome of a confident man with a successful future, and she’d been flattered that he’d seen her as part of his future, and happy to be part of his success. Did she have so little confidence in herself?

  But Brian had changed. It had been gradual, but when she’d told him they needed to take a break from each other, she’d heeded some voice inside her that recognized all was not right with him. When first they’d started seeing each other, he’d been a social drinker, but the last six months or so he’d been drinking more. She’d imagined it was the stress of his work, and maybe it was, but maybe it was also part of whatever had caused him to change from a fun-loving and kind, if self-involved guy, to a man who would borrow her savings without permission.

  Her ex-boyfriend would have done better to have a new window delivered than a bunch of flowers, Kate thought, when she arrived back home. She’d been lucky to find a company that would replace the glass the same day she called, but the gleaming new pane had made another dent in her savings.

  Now, on the outside, everything looked the same as it had yesterday. Including Kate. But inside she wondered how she could ever have been so blind.

  There were stories in the newspapers and on TV all the time about people being conned out of their savings, and she’d always thanked her lucky stars she wasn’t the kind to be taken in so easily. Now she wondered about her own judgment.

  The phone was ringing when she entered her apartment. She knew who was calling and she hesitated, letting it ring, then decided to get the call over with. Her heart sank as she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” Brian’s voice sounded hoarse.

  “Have you stolen from all your clients? Or is it just me?” Her voice was cold and surprisingly steady since she simmered inside with hurt and anger. She hadn’t decided yet what she was going to do next, but if there were other people involved, she’d have no choice but to report him.

  “I didn’t touch anyone else’s account. I swear I didn’t. And I didn’t steal your money. I admit, I got in over my head. Damn market. But I bought those stocks in your name, for you. They just haven’t come back up yet is all.”

  How typical, she thought, to blame the market for his troubles.

  “So you played the market with my money, even though you knew I only wanted the safest investments.”

  He sighed heavily. “I screwed up. I didn’t have the money to buy the stocks myself and I hated the thought of your money sitting there making a couple of measly percentage points when we could do a lot better.”

  “You didn’t do better, though, did you. You lost the money.”

  “I thought I could put it back before you found out. I will get it back to you, I swear it.”

  She found vengeance hard to mete out to a man she’d once considered marrying. Somehow, she kept remembering the old days, when he’d been so different. “I’ll give you one week.”

  “Please don’t hang up.” He was crying. She could hear the snuffling sound coming from the receiver. “I never meant to hurt you. Please, Kate, just give me another chance.”

  “Brian, go to AA. If you’re still sober in six months, call me. In the meantime, all I want is my money back.” No, she thought, that wasn’t all she wanted. Some part of her knew he wasn’t a bad man, but a weak and foolish one with a problem. “I’m serious. I think you need some help. If you keep going down this path you’ll lose your career and all your plans for the future. Now, please don’t call me again.”

  “Wait, Kate, I’m sorry. Please can’t we—”

  “If you’re really sorry, you’ll take my advice. You have a drinking problem. Do something about it.”

  She clicked the phone down. And grabbed the receiver again immediately, punching buttons rapidly. “Ruby! Can you come over tonight?”

  It was her best friend’s day off, so Kate hadn’t been able to get her levelheaded take on the whole situation. Which, right now, was what she needed.

  “Sorry, honey. I got me a hot date.”

  “Oh…” She tried not to sound as though she would collapse on the floor in hysterics if her friend didn’t come over, even though that’s how she felt. “Good for you. Have fun.”

  “Hey, everything okay?”

  Kate put on a false cheeriness. “Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow. You can tell me all about your date then.”

  Hanging up, she listened to the silence. She glanced around the small apartment and knew she didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to go out and face noisy crowds, either. She just wanted a friend. Ruby was busy, and there wasn’t anyone else she could talk to about this…

  Dean was her friend.

  The thought struck home, and she realized with a shock that it was true. After last night, they’d moved beyond neighbors. The nerdy computer guy upstairs had been there when she needed him and she knew instinctively she could trust him.

  From what she’d seen, living in the same building, he didn’t have much of a social life. Maybe he’d be interested in a movie? She ran to the new window and glanced out, but his car wasn’t in the driveway.

  She dropped the curtain back in place, fighting yet another urge to cry. It looked like she was spending the evening alone.

  She padded into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge door. Yogurt, vegetables, fruit. Blah. There was a time for health food, and there was a time for junk food and wine. Tonight was made for junk food.

  Trouble was, she didn’t have any.

  A quick survey of her cupboards revealed half a bottle of cooking sherry. She pulled the cork, sniffed and jerked her nose away. Okay, she didn’t have any wine, either.

  With a sigh, she slopped some yogurt into a bowl and wandered back into the living room, where she collapsed onto the couch.

  If she couldn’t have junk food and wine, the next best thing would be an old black-and-white tearjerker. She turned on the TV and started flicking channels. Nature shows, sports, sitcom reruns—her spirits sank lower. She finally settled on a documentary about the disappearing rain forest. She figured it would be as depressing as any tearjerker, and at least it was educational.

  The ringing doorbell made her jump, torn between dread that it was Brian and hope that Ruby had changed her mind.

  A sigh of relief burst from her lips when she saw the familiar face, the glasses made huge by the distorting lens of the peephole.

  She opened the door and smiled.

  Dean held out a big pizza box and a bottle in a paper bag. “Could I interest you in dinner for two?” he said.

  Her smile widened. “I’ve never been so happy to see anybody. Come on in.”

  The night didn’t seem so lonely, or her situation so desperate, all of a sudden.

  Dean was such an easy person to be around, Kate thought, as she munched the fully loaded pizza and sipped red wine. She’d expected to feel a twinge of embarrassment when she saw him again, after the way she’d cried all over him last night. But he acted so much like he always did, kind of sweet and shy, that her heart warmed to him, and the embarrassment never materialized.

  “He played the market with my money.”

  The pizza box was empty, the wine bottle nearly so—and Kate had a pretty good idea she’d had more than her fair share of the latter—before she brought up the subject they’d both been avoiding.

  Dean didn’t say a word, just nodded.

  Kate looked down at the last of the red wine in the bottom of her glass, at the tiny crimson waves rolling across the surface.

  “He called today and told me he’d played my money because he didn’t have enough of his own that wasn’t tied up. He says he’ll pay it back.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s changed. I may not be the world’s best judge of character, but I swear the man I met two years ago wouldn’t have done something like this.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I simply didn’t know him. I feel so stupid. I know it’s partly my fault for trusting him so blindly.”

  Dean was standing over her in a second. She’d never seen anyone move so fast. “Would you stop that? How the hell is it your fault? Kate, all kinds of people give their brokers power over their accounts. I do it myself. You don’t expect them to play stupid games and gamble with your savings.”

  Dean had a broker? Somehow it was hard to imagine.

  Kate laughed shakily. “Thanks. I think maybe I could have handled things differently. He didn’t start out like this. When we first knew each other he was sweet. But in the last couple of months he’s been different….”

  “Different how?”

  “It’s like he was living a lie. He pretended he was one person, the banker I trusted, but all the time he was someone completely different. He was using me, using my money without telling me. It was nothing but lies. That’s the worst betrayal of all.”

  Dean made a choking sound.

  “Are you all right?”

  His face was all red, and he started to cough. “Wine went down the wrong way,” he gasped.

  She ran into the kitchen for a glass of water, which he gulped down. “Sorry. Go on about Brian.”