“And now?”

She gave her head a little shake. “You ever have a thought that’s so frightening you’re afraid to say it out loud?” Her eyes locked with his. “I’m in the final stage of my dissertation. This time next year I’ll have my doctorate…and I don’t care anymore. I haven’t really cared for months, maybe years, but I’ve been afraid to admit it. Somewhere along the line I lost touch with myself. I was so busy working to reach my goal that I didn’t realize the goal was no longer something I truly wanted.”

It was hard for him to believe she didn’t want to pursue a career in geriatric counseling. Until this moment she’d seemed so dedicated, so enthusiastic about it. “Maybe you’re just tired.”

Daisy sighed. She couldn’t deny she was tired. She went through the motions and made a lot of energetic noise, but underneath it all she was weary. It had come on her gradually, and if it hadn’t been for Steve Crow, she might not have noticed it at all. Steve provided the contrast that made her see the picture more clearly.

She wasn’t tired today. And she hadn’t been tired on the kitchen table. She had enough stamina to run a twenty-eight-year-old cop into the ground. But she could barely keep her mind from wandering when she sat down to write and edit.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, sending him a weak smile in apology and embarrassment. “Sorry I turned weird on you, but I was sitting here watching the people go by, and suddenly I was just about knocked over with a flash of insight. I suppose it had been lurking in my mind for a long time, and I’d never before let down my guard enough for it to surface. It was like the lid to Pandora’s box unexpectedly flying open and having the ugly truth pop out at me.”

“Do you really hate your dissertation?”

“I hate working on it.”

“Ah-hah.”

“What ah-hah? You aren’t going to tell me it’s PMS, are you?”

“That would be insulting. Only women can make remarks like that.”

“So what then?”

She was genuinely hurting, he realized. Under all the assertive confidence was a scrap of self-doubt. And she was obviously horrified that she’d blurted out her discovery to him. He suspected she needed time to get used to the idea herself before she could comfortably discuss it with someone else. He wanted to give her that time. He wanted to make her smile and push her responsibilities aside for a day.

“It’s very simple,” he said. “It’s all stress-related. You just need to relax.” His eyes grew lazy. His mouth quirked into a teasing smile. “You need to spend more time on the kitchen table.”