“God, but I’ve missed you, Erin,” he breathed, and the pressure against the curve of her spine increased. “I’ve had dreams about you, ached for you…”

“Shhh…” Before he could utter another word, Erin checked his speech by placing a trembling finger against the warmth of his lips. “Later,” she whispered, cocking her head toward the open doorway to his apartment. “I’d better go inside and check on Krista.” Erin knew that she was shaking from the intensity of his passion, but she controlled the urge to reach up and trace the angled contour of his cheeks with her fingers.

Kane reluctantly let his embrace loosen and an unreadable, agonized expression passed over his face. “I won’t be gone long—it should only take a minute….”

“Don’t be too sure,” she laughed hollowly as she stepped back toward the apartment. “Computer problems tend to be complicated….”

“That they do,” he whispered cryptically, and let his eyes rove over her face searchingly. What did he expect to find? Finally he tore his gaze away from her and threw open the door before stepping into the night. If only Erin could guess the real reason that he had been summoned to the bank on this black, rain-drenched night, Kane thought sardonically. If only she knew that he was aware of the fact that another three thousand dollars had slipped out of the dividend account during his absence. Oh, Erin, he thought as he drove toward the winking lights of Seattle. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and the tires of the black sports car screamed against the pressure of a corner taken too recklessly. Why, he wondered—oh, God, why?

Erin straightened her shoulders before she entered the tiny apartment and let the door whisper shut behind her. At the sound of the soft noise Krista stirred and looked longingly at the door with cold disbelieving eyes.

Mentally Erin fortified herself. She could tell that the upcoming evening was going to be a test of will between herself and Kane’s stubborn daughter. And although Erin was an adult, and the old Victorian house was “her turf,” she felt at a distinct disadvantage to the blond girl who had folded her arms defiantly over her small chest. Erin dreaded the argument that she knew was simmering in the air. Forcing herself to appear more collected than she felt, she walked back to the table and ignored Krista’s wounded look as she spoke softly to the child. Erin’s voice was friendly but firm.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked the girl, and motioned to a basket of sourdough rolls at her end of the table.

Silence.

Erin gritted her teeth together in frustration and noticed that Krista hadn’t touched any of the food on her plate. Once again Erin attempted to communicate. “How about a glass of milk?”

Nothing.

“Krista,” Erin said, commanding the girl’s attention, and bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation. “I’d like it very much if we could be friends.”