“Miss Rosetti?” a man said behind her.
A man whose voice was now becoming annoyingly familiar.
“Per l’amor del cielo.” She whirled to face Mr. Reed. “Why are you following me?”
His lips twitched. “Did you just curse at me in Italian?”
Heat bled into her face. “Why? Are you Italian?” Though he had light olive skin similar to hers, his hair was darker, almost black, and his brilliant blue eyes were unlike any of her relatives’.
His grin broke free this time, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “No, I’m not, but I do understand enough of the language to know when I’ve annoyed someone.”
She huffed out a breath. “You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Reed. Why did you follow me?”
And why do you look so handsome in that tuxedo? Olivia purposely kept her gaze trained on the traffic in front of them. She needed to guard her thoughts and her words around this one. He saw too much with those sharp eyes.
His dark brows drew together. “I sensed that man upset you more than you let on. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
The fact that his eyes drew hers like a magnet only increased her frustration. “I’m fine, now that I’m away from him.” However, the man’s vile words echoed in her mind, and she shuddered.
“You’re cold. Here. Take this.”
Before she could protest, Mr. Reed had removed his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Warmth enveloped her, along with the spicy scent of his aftershave.
“Would you like to go back inside? Or perhaps I can see you home?”
While part of her wanted to take him up on his offer, the other part didn’t quite trust him. It was too much of a coincidence that he was attending their fundraiser when only the other day he’d been trying to convince Ruth to sell her house. And just now he’d tried to dissuade Mr. Peterson from supporting their venture. She squared her shoulders. “Why are you here tonight, Mr. Reed? To discourage anyone who might wish to invest in our home?”
The light left his eyes, and his gaze shifted to the sidewalk. He seemed to debate his answer before releasing a long breath. “It’s not a crime to make sure potential investors have all the facts. I’m merely bringing their attention to the concerns of the business owners in the area.” He gave an unapologetic shrug, the wind flapping his white shirtsleeves.
She frowned. “What concerns?”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “To be honest, Miss Rosetti, there’s a fear that your home might attract some . . . undesirable types. Ones who might hinder clients from frequenting the businesses in the neighborhood.”
He seemed to be talking in riddles. “What sort of undesirable types?”
A flush moved into his cheeks. “I don’t like to say the word in front of a lady.”
She frowned. “You mean streetwalkers?”
He nodded.
“That’s the most narrow-minded, judgmental—” She inhaled sharply in an attempt to gain control of her emotions. “We intend to run a very respectable establishment, Mr. Reed, no matter who frequents our doorstep. We will provide women in need with a place of refuge, no matter their circumstances, until they’re back on their feet with a plan for their future.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked softly.
She froze, every muscle tensing. Had he been looking into her background? Trying to find something to use against them? She fought to keep her expression neutral as she recalled the answers Ruth had made her practice. “As you no doubt heard Mrs. Bennington explain, I . . . fell on hard times recently, and Ruth was kind enough to offer me a place to stay.”
He studied her, his blue eyes darkening. “So you decided to extend her kindness to other troubled women?”
She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or was genuinely interested. “In a manner of speaking, yes. We both have our own reasons for wanting to do this. Reasons that don’t concern you.” She turned on her heel and headed toward the hotel entrance.
“Miss Rosetti, wait. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m honestly trying to understand what’s behind this venture.” His long strides brought him up beside her.
Once inside the lobby, she came to a halt. Then she removed his jacket and handed it back to him. “If you really want to know what we’re all about, Mr. Reed, I challenge you to leave your preconceived notions behind and come see our operation with an open mind. Perhaps you’ll learn something if you do.”
He stood, staring, an expression of admiration creeping over his face.
A surge of power rushed through her. For once, she’d stood up for something she believed in, and amazingly enough, someone had actually listened.
“And when you report back to your employer, Mr. Reed, I hope you’ll make him understand once and for all that Bennington Place is not for sale.”
9
Darius walked through the reception area of Walcott Industries, heading directly toward his office. The meeting with a potential client had not gone the way he’d envisioned at all. He’d thought he had the deal for a property on Bay Street wrapped up, but now the owner seemed to be wavering. Darius sensed that someone else might be making a more lucrative offer. Unless he could figure out who his competition was and what they were proposing, he wouldn’t know how to make the proper counteroffer.
On top of that disappointment, his conversation with Miss Rosetti from two nights ago had left him strangely unsettled. Her insinuation that he had some sort of misguided bias against the maternity home grated on him.
“If you really want to know what we’re all about, I challenge you to leave your preconceived notions behind and come see our operation with an open mind. Perhaps you’ll learn something if you do.”
He snorted. Why did her low opinion of him rankle so much?
Scowling, he shoved the key into his office door. With a bit more force than necessary, he tossed his briefcase on the desktop. The only good thing
