go on to run records of her music today in a state-of-the-art studio that Carson had put up for her in one wing of the mansion. That was a little

s at the office or rush to out-of-town meetings. When he was at the mansion, however, he tried to squeeze time fo

expression, as though he were trying to figure her out, and all the time she thought, What does he see when he

the room, she noticed a note slipped under the door. Carson's

n the gard

ay to find out. At eight o'clock sharp, she made her way to the garden. The sun was gone, and the park was bathed in the glitterin

" she asked, trying to

ught we could talk. A

an eyebrow.

ded his arms. He took a deep breath. ".

en dreading the conversation, but she

think you know it, too. Laura shifted her eyes away; her heart sputtered a hostile beat in a struggle all too familiar. She didn't know what to say. Carson was right; part of her had wanted to understand him, to see past the walls of cold indifference he put up around himself. But another part of her had been afraid-afraid of what she might find, afraid of getting too close. Maybe, she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. But I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Not yet. Carson nodded; his face showed comprehension. "That's fair. We shall do one step at a time." They stood there in silence for a while,