He squared his shoulders, as if preparing to face an enemy. “No. I told you about my past because I feel a connection between us—and I’d like to get to know you better . . . even if that’s not smart.” Grooves of tension bracketed his mouth. “I shouldn’t have caved and come in tonight.”

Uh-oh.

That wasn’t encouraging.

Was he regretting how much he’d shared?

Jump in here, Eve, or this could go downhill fast.

“Um . . . you do know that I’ll keep everything you told me confidential.”

“Yes.”

“Then why isn’t it smart for us to see where a friendship could lead?”

“For a couple of reasons—including the issue we talked about tonight. I’ve listened to you on the radio, Eve. You put it all out there for the world to see, facts and opinions and feelings. You’re an open book in the best sense of the term. You don’t hold back, and what you see is what you get. You deserve someone who can reciprocate.”

“After the past hour, I’m pretty sure I’m looking at someone who can. With me, anyway—and in a relationship, that’s all that counts.”

“One evening doesn’t change the habits of a lifetime.”

“It’s a first step. And for the record, I also feel the connection between us. I hoped it was mutual. Now that I know it is, I can see promising possibilities ahead.”

“I’d like to say the same.” His tone was sad. Defeated. “But there’s another barrier.”

The strains of “I Won’t Back Down” riffed through the kitchen again.

Eve glared at her cell. “I’m letting that roll.”

“If you want to get it, that’s fine. I have to go.” He stood abruptly, as if the urge to flee was too strong to resist. “The cake was great.”

She checked his plate.

Empty.

When had he finished his dessert?

“Let me get you another piece to take home.”

He edged toward the doorway to the hall. “You don’t have to do that.”

She ignored him.

Brain whirring at warp speed, she retrieved the cake from the refrigerator. As she cut another generous slice and encased it in plastic wrap, his barrier comment kept looping through her mind.

What was the other obstacle between Brent and a relationship?

If she could detain him a few minutes, there was a chance he’d tell her—and she needed to know. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to address it.

She slid the cake back into the fridge and turned.

He was already waiting in the doorway between the kitchen and hall, keys in hand.

Her spirits tanked. There would be no more conversation tonight.

Stifling her frustration, she crossed to him and passed over the cake. “Would you like to borrow an umbrella?”