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"What do you want from me?"

This woman wasn't broken, not the way she had been last week.  He wondered what had happened, even as he applauded the change.  He'd disliked seeing her so beaten.

If a little stronger, however, she was still quite wary.

"I don't want anything from you but a chance."

She frowned.  "To do what?  Entertain your golf partner or spice up the next charity ball with stories of poor Maeve?"

"Ever get tired of lugging around that chip on your shoulder?"

"What?"  She looked as shocked as he felt.  He hadn't meant to unload on her, but damn it, she shouldn't question his ethics.

"First, I don't play golf.  Waste of time.  Second, all I want is to help you."

"I don't need your help."

"Is that right?  What will you do when property taxes on that white elephant are due at the end of the year?  What happens when spring comes, and you can't afford to pay a gardener?  You plan to take care of that house and grounds all by yourself, or are you thinking Gertrude will come out of retirement forever?"

She literally backed up a step.  "You—"  She drew herself straight.  Fire sparked in her eyes.  "You have no right to invade my privacy."

"Everyone else seems to want to, and they'll continue until you get your act together."

"How dare you!"  She wheeled away from him.  "This conversation is over." 

He caught up to her.  Stepped in front and held up his hands.  "Look, I'm not the enemy.  I can help you.  You don't know how you're going to fix your financial problems, do you?"

"Get out of my way."

"No."  When her gaze whipped up to his, he grinned.  "Doesn't it feel better to be mad than beaten down?"

"What?"  Her eyes narrowed.  "Are you saying you made me angry on purpose?"

"No," he replied.  "It was only a side benefit."

She tried to swerve around him, but he blocked her neatly.  "Look, give me this one chance.  Meet me for coffee after you get through here."

"Why?"  She seemed sincerely curious.  "Why do you care what happens to me?"

"I'll explain."  He arched one brow.  "If you'll meet me."

"I don't want to."

"But you have to come out of hiding sometime."

Her eyes sparked again, and he waited for the retort.

Instead, she smiled ruefully.  "You're right about that."

"So you'll let me take you to coffee?  Or dinner?"

Dinner was apparently the wrong word to use, he could tell instantly.  Too much connotation of a date, maybe.  To his surprise, the idea had its appeal, though attraction had not been a part of his rationale.

Of course, he wasn't real clear on exactly what was.   "Only to talk," he amended.  "You have to eat, right?"  He glanced over her slender figure.  "Though it doesn't look like you've been doing much of that."  The woman he recalled had been rounder.  She was approaching gaunt.

"My diet is none of your business."  She studied him.  "All right.  But only coffee.  And I'll meet you."

"What time do you leave here?"

"At three."

"Let's do Café Matisse at three-fifteen.  It's nearby."

"I know where it is."

"Good."

He lingered, at a loss now that he'd gotten his way.  "So...want to show me around now?"

Her expression chided him.  "Mr. Lawrence, you've had the tour already."

"Chuck.  And I might have missed something."

"No, Chuck," she said, inflecting his name with meaning he couldn't quite decipher.  "I don't believe you miss anything.  Goodbye."  She turned to go.

He stood watching her for several seconds.  Wondered if she'd really show up.

Then he grinned.  He'd be back at two-thirty, just in case.  His crowded schedule would require some rearranging, but for some reason, he didn't mind as much as he should have.

He left, shaking his head.  This Galahad stuff was a lot of work.

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