to the look that had come over Victoria’s face only moments ago. He imagined she’d wear that same expression in the throes of passion. “Virginia Tech.”
“Virginia? Is that where you’re from?”
“Nope. Born and raised right here in San Diego. But I knew I wanted to capitalize on the cellular telephone industry and at the time, Virginia Tech offered the best courses on wireless technology.”
She laid down her fork, gave him her full attention. “How long was it before you started your company?”
“Right out of college. I built Carracell Inc. from the ground up and surrounded myself with a great group of co-workers. That was almost ten years ago, when the cellular business was really starting to boom. Seems I was at the right place at the right time.”
“I imagine you put plenty of hard work into it.”
“Sure. But working at something I love is like taking a vacation every day.”
She sighed. “That’s so neat. Especially that you figured out what you wanted to do and were able to accomplish it while you were young.”
He frowned, realizing she was comparing herself to him. “You’re not exactly old. What are you, twenty-five?”
She laughed. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve had in a while. I’m thirty-one. And attending college when you’re over thirty can be a humbling, aging experience.”
“Or keep you young at heart.”
“That, too.”
“Can I ask what made you wait to go to college? You seem pretty determined in knowing what you want.”
She shifted against the vinyl seat, scooted her coffee mug back and forth across the crimson tabletop. Then she looked him square in the eye, her chin lifted as though she expected someone to take a jab.
“I ran away from a group home when I was sixteen, which meant dropping out of high school. Since I was on my own, I had to work to support myself. Then I had to get my GED and build up a cushion of funds. I was young and didn’t realize I could work and go to college.”
“It’s a heavy load.”
“But it’ll be worth it.”
He shouldn’t ask about the group home. It was none of his business. But he seemed to have an insatiable need to find out everything about her. And coming from a close, happy family, the idea of not living within that circle of safety was unthinkable.
“This…uh, group home. Was it like a foster family?”
“No.” She twisted the two rings on her middle finger. “I lived in a few of those. Some of them were nice, some of them just okay. The group home was more along the lines of what you’d call an orphanage for kids not yet old enough for emancipation. It was called Helen’s Home. We called it Hell’s Home.”
From the set of her shoulders and the dare in her eyes, it was clear she wouldn’t tolerate pity. And he didn’t intend to give it.
But questions could easily be misconstrued. If he had his way—which he generally did—there would be plenty of time to delve into all the facets of Victoria Meadland.
He also made a mental note to himself to check into this Helen’s Home. If kids were being mistreated there, he had the connections to do something about it. And he would.
“Well, from living in Hell, you’ve definitely evolved into an angel.”
She gave a short laugh. “You’re nuts.”
“About you.”
“Would you stop saying stuff like that?”
“Can’t seem to help it. I take one look at you and the words just tumble out.”
“Did that fancy college also offer a class in smooth lines to use on your dates?”
He reached over and touched her hand, made sure he had her attention. “I don’t give lines, Victoria. You’ll find that my word is my bond. And I don’t use my words, or my promises, lightly.”
Her thumb tentatively touched his finger, then retreated. “What is it you want, Jace?” she asked, her voice so quiet it was a mere puff of breath.
“You.”
She started to shake her head.
“Give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“You’d be surprised how much time’s available when you schedule it.”
“Between working and school, my schedule’s pretty full.”
“I know. And I don’t intend to stand in your way or keep you from your goals. All I want is some of your time.”
“Jace—”
“You feel it, too, don’t you?”
She took a deep breath, let it out and nodded. There was no coy game-playing. She knew exactly what he was asking.
“Yes. I like you a lot, Jace Carradigne. But you might find out that I’m not what you’re looking for. And in that case, the risk for me is just too great.”
Chapter Two
Vickie had studied until 2:00 a.m., so when her telephone rang at eight-thirty Saturday morning, she wasn’t feeling very civilized.
She reached for the receiver, knocked over the alarm clock she deliberately hadn’t set. “’lo?”
“Did I wake you?”
Adrenaline shot through her, bringing her straight up in the bed. She snatched at the clock, looked at the time, tried like mad to get her brain in gear.
“It’s eight-thirty on Saturday morning, and I’m not exactly what you’d call a lark. What do you think?”
Jace chuckled. “Sorry. I waited as long as I could.”
She settled against the pillows, wondered if she’d remembered to set the automatic brew on the coffee-maker. Sissy, who’d been curled up at the end of the bed, gave a disgusted look at having been disturbed. Vickie leaned forward and scooped the cat into her arms to soothe her.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those disgustingly chipper morning people.”
“Guilty.”
He sounded so happily contrite, she smiled, stroking Sissy’s silky fur. She’d rescued the cat when it had been a mere kitten, incensed that someone could just dump something so beautiful and sweet. Then again, she knew a bit about abandonment. Since she’d always yearned for a sister, she’d named the kitten Sissy. They’d been each other’s stability for three years now.
“What are you wearing right now?”
That caught her off guard, brought her fully awake faster than a pure shot of caffeine straight through an open vein. “None of your business.”
“Let me guess. A little T-shirt and a pair of those comfy shorts.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, then glanced down at her men’s-cut flannel pajamas adorned with little sheep and half moons. “Um, not exactly.”
“Am I close?”
A smart woman would not play this game. Lack of coffee, she told herself, could account for fewer brain cells. “Warm. I’m…comfy.” Her voice softened intimately. “No T-shirt or shorts, though.”
There was a beat of silence. “Oh, man. Don’t tell me you sleep in the buff.”
She grinned, bit her lip. “I wouldn’t dream of telling you such a thing.”
He