Again, an image of Eve materialized in his mind. She fell into the strong category—and she had spunk and smarts to match.

But it didn’t matter how strong she was. Putting the kind of life-and-death stress his job entailed on someone he loved would test their fortitude—and it would be selfish.

Period.

Even if most of his colleagues agreed with Adam’s viewpoint—and lived their lives accordingly.

But they hadn’t been through what he’d experienced. And he never wanted to go down that road again, or cause anyone that kind of emotional distress.

“Are you thinking about what I said, or did you tune me out?” Adam pulled slightly ahead.

“I didn’t tune you out.”

“But you’re not reconsidering your position.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’ll assume my take is correct.” Adam blew out a breath. “But I’m betting the right woman could change your mind, if you gave her a chance.”

Brent finished the last hundred yards in silence, and Adam let the subject drop as they cooled down and parted for the night.

Yet as he drove home alone in the dark . . . as he pictured the bare-bones condo in desperate need of a few decorating touches that would give it warmth and personality . . . his friend’s last comment replayed in his mind.

New as Eve was in his life, his intuition told him she might be the woman who could change his mind about a serious relationship.

If he could ever put the specter of Karen’s legacy to rest.

Meg’s radio station gig wasn’t working for him.

Steve shoved aside the drapes in the living room and scanned the street in front of the house again.

No sign of her, and it was after nine.

She should have been here to greet him when he got home from his Wednesday bowling-and-pizza night. He expected that—and she knew it. If a man couldn’t count on his wife to put him first and keep his home running smoothly, what could he count on?

His dad hadn’t been right about much, but he’d nailed the role of wives. Their primary job was to keep their husbands happy.

A job his mother had failed at—big-time—thanks to that corporate position she’d taken. Once she had her own money, she hadn’t wanted—or needed—her husband or son anymore.

He fisted his hand and kicked the baseboard.

After his experience with dear old Mom, it was no wonder he’d vowed to someday find a woman who could be controlled—and who would never be a flight risk.

Meg had fit the bill.

Or she had, until he’d relented after the miscarriage and let her apply for that stupid job at the radio station he’d never expected her to get.