Free Meeting at Midnight by Eileen Wilks

basically direct person to tiptoe around a subject. Much easier to just say what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
    â€œGets you in trouble sometimes,” I said. I’d reached the couch and sat down, suppressing a sigh of relief. Stupid knee. My shoulder wasn’t feeling too great, either.
    â€œTrouble can be interesting. Here, let me help you get that leg up.”
    â€œI can do it.”
    â€œNow how did I know you were going to say that?” She ignored my scowl, putting her hands under my calf and helping me lift the leg onto the couch. “I must be psychic.”
    â€œThat makes sense. It’s not like I’m predictable.”
    She laughed and settled on the other end, curling one leg up beneath her. That surprised me. She’d mostly stayed away this afternoon unless I needed something…which I figured was my fault. Because of that kiss. With my leg stretched out between us, I couldn’t jump her. That’s probably what she was thinking.
    And I was not thinking about that kiss again. I was just wondering if she was.
    â€œI liked watching you and Zach together,” she said. “Gave me the idea that you’re crazy about him.”
    â€œWell, yeah. Of course I am. Any man…” My voice trailed off as I remembered that her father hadn’t acted like he was crazy about her. I cleared my throat. “Of course, some men are jerks.”
    â€œI can agree with that.”
    The bitter note in her voice surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. She had a right to be bitter. “Do you hate him?” I asked abruptly. “Your father, I mean.”
    She blinked. “I…oh, damn, I wanted to say no, that he doesn’t matter enough to hate. And that’s almost true. But sometimes…”
    She shrugged and looked away, but not before I’d seen the unhappiness in her eyes. “It’s like having a trick knee. You go along fine for days, weeks, even months. Then all of a sudden you put your weight on it, and it doesn’t hold. Every now and then I still get angry. Dumb, isn’t it?” Her mouth twisted. “I’m thirty-two years old. I should be over it by now.”
    â€œI don’t see what ‘should’ has to do with it. Seems to me we can control our actions, but thoughts and feelings don’t pay much attention to rules.” Or I wouldn’t be thinking about that blasted kiss again.
    She looked startled, then smiled. “I suspect a lot of people underestimate you.”
    That was probably a compliment. I studied her a moment. Though her body was easy, relaxed, I thought shadows lingered in her eyes. I decided to steer us into less painful territory. “So, what would you change in here?”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œYou said things hadn’t been changed in a long time. You must have had something in mind.”
    â€œI’d paint the walls,” she said promptly.
    I looked around critically. “Nothing wrong with the paint.”
    â€œIt’s white, Ben.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo the room could use some color. Red would be great.”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œGreen would be good, too—a rich green, nothing wimpy. But this couch is a lovely, warm brown. I think red would be great with it. And maybe some molding over the fireplace to match the crown moldings. That would make the mantel really pop.”
    I eyed her dubiously. “You sound like an upscale decorator.”
    She laughed. “I’ll admit to being hooked on those shows on cable.”
    â€œThey have decorating shows?”
    â€œDon’t watch much TV, do you?”
    â€œNot if I can help it.”
    â€œWell, there’s a whole network devoted to it. Shows about gardening and all kinds of decorating—window treatments, kitchen remodels, painting techniques, all that sort of thing.” She grinned. “A friend of mine calls it female porn. We can look and