No, she thought. It was her problem, her future. But what harm would it do to talk it out, to say it all out loud and hear someone else’s viewpoint?

“Office politics.” She sighed as he began to massage the base of her neck. His rough, calloused fingers were as gentle as a mother’s. “I imagine they can be tricky enough when you have experience. All I have is the family name and my grandfather’s last wishes. The publicity on Mrs. Wolburg has left my position in the company very shaky. I assumed responsibility without going through channels or consulting legal. The board isn’t pleased with me.”

His eyes had darkened, but his hands remained gentle. “Because you have integrity?”

“Because I jumped the gun, so to speak. The resulting publicity only made things worse. The consensus is that someone with more savvy could have handled the Wolburg matter—that’s how it’s referred to at Hayward. The Wolburg matter in a quiet, tidy fashion. There’s a board meeting at noon on Friday, and they could very well request that I step down as president.”

“And will you?”

“I don’t know.” He was working on her shoulders now, competently, thoroughly. “I’d like to fight, draw the whole thing out. Then again, the company’s been in upheaval for over a year, and having the president and the board as adversaries won’t help Hayward. Added to that, my executive vice president and I are already on poor terms. He feels, perhaps justifiably, that he should be in the number one slot.” She laughed softly. “There are times I wish he had it.”

“No, you don’t.” He resisted the urge to bend down and press his lips to the long, slender column of her neck. Barely. “You like being in charge, and I think you’re good at it.”

She stopped rocking to turn her head and stare at him. “You’re the first person who’s ever said that to me. Most of the people who know me think I’m playing at this, or that I’m experiencing a kind of temporary insanity.”

His hand slid lightly down her arm as he came around to crouch in front of her. “Then they don’t know you, do they?”

There were so many emotions popping through her as she kept her eyes on his. But pleasure, the simple pleasure of being understood was paramount. “Maybe they don’t,” she murmured. “Maybe they don’t.”

“I won’t give you advice.” He picked up one of her hands because he enjoyed examining it, the long, ringless fingers, the slender wrist, the smooth, cool skin. “I don’t know about office politics or board meetings. But I think you’ll do what’s right. You have a good brain and a good heart.”