Free It Started with a House... by Helen R. Myers

first place.”
    â€œLet me come over. This isn’t a conversation that should happen over the phone. Besides, I’m aching to be with you again.”
    As her gaze fell on a picture of Adam on the nightstand, her heart wrenched. “Stop! I mean…Marshall, you can’t. I have neighbors, too.” Sweet older ones who had been asleep for hours, but didn’t need to see a strange man leaving her driveway in the wee hours of the morning as they rose like all old people did to pace for insomnia or medical issues, often peering outside to make sure all was well on their quiet cul-de-sac.
    â€œYou’re killing me, Genevieve.”
    She turned her back to the photo and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not feeling too well myself.”
    â€œI can hear that, and my hunch is that you’re going to try to freeze me out now because you’re convincing yourself that what we shared was a mistake.”
    â€œIt was.”
    â€œDon’t say that, darling.”
    â€œMarshall…the other reason you can’t come over is because I’m not on birth control.” She heard him draw a sharp breath and continued quickly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s all right, but that tells you that I meant it when I said that I still felt married. There hasn’t been anyone else.”
    â€œI should have known. You’re not the kind of woman to indulge in casual sex. Then I should have known when it wasn’t easy for you to take me.”
    Genevieve had to press her thighs together and bend at the waist to keep her body from being seduced all over again by his voice and words. “Please…stop.”
    â€œAll I can do is apologize again, sweetheart. I wasn’t prepared, either, even if this had been premeditated.” He laughed briefly. “I’m that out of practice.”
    That was something she should cherish, but it only left her with a stark realization. “Then I guess it’s not entirely a bad thing that my mother and Bart dropped by. I think one try at Russian roulette is enough for two misfit singles like us, don’t you?”
    â€œWhat I think is that we really need to talk, and not over the phone. Is the office open tomorrow?”
    â€œNo, we try to stay closed Sundays—and I sing in the church choir,” she added, a strong hint in case he had some idea about breakfast or brunch.
    â€œI would have guessed you could sing. Your speaking voice is melodious. Soprano?”
    â€œYes,” she said, a little confused by the way he was veering off the point.
    â€œSecond?”
    â€œFirst.”
    â€œWhat color robe?”
    The man was definitely keeping her off balance. “Peppermint stripes,” she replied, feeling a bit rebellious. “What are you doing?”
    â€œLearning about you. I may have gotten some critical things out of sequence, but I’m a quick study. What color?”
    â€œGold.”
    His murmur spoke of satisfaction. “That’s a nice image. With your hair and eyes, you must look like an angel. Can I take you to lunch afterward?”
    Speaking of voices, his was returning to that tender seductive tone that could get under her defenses way too easily. “Thank you, and that’s a tempting offer, but I really better get over to Mother’s and remind her of some boundaries she’s not respecting.”
    â€œShe’s undeniably a character, but it’s easy to see why Bart puts up with her and keeps that twinkle in his eyes. She’s quite an attractive woman. You hit a payload in the gene department.”
    â€œShe would love hearing that—and thank you yet again. You know, if I don’t get this wet hair blow-dried, I’m going to have to get back in the shower and rinse it again. It has a mind of its own.”
    â€œI’d like to see your wild woman look—it sounds enticing. I’m going to put it at the top of my wish