Erica half frowned. Neither freedom nor choice had motivated their move to Wisconsin. Nor were they engaged in a “hobby.” It had never occurred to her before that Kyle hadn’t told his closest friend the real circumstances following Joel’s death. But before she could say anything, Morgan was rambling on. “I’ve been tied to the business ever since I got out of school, and there are times I’d just like to say to hell with it.”

“Morgan,” Erica said gently, “you have so much to be proud of. You’re a lot younger than your father was when he-”

“Yes. I’m a huge success, money-wise,” he said dryly. “And money buys a lot of toys. In the short run, it buys a lot of women as well.”

She was silent, not so much shocked as saddened by his attitude-for his sake.

“Who’s kidding whom? That’s the life I lead,” he admitted quietly, and looked at her, his features impassive. “But women like you aren’t just walking around, love.”

“Sweetie,” she said affectionately. His compliment, so out of the blue, had warmed her. More than that, she simply wanted to help Morgan if he needed help. But she also felt a strange sort of unease. Where was Kyle? She stood up and teasingly ordered Morgan ahead of her toward the kitchen. “What kind of lady do you expect to pick up in a singles bar anyway?”

If Kyle had been there, she wouldn’t have hesitated to remain sitting with Morgan, to reach over and hug him, to urge him to talk and get his troubles off his chest. But Kyle wasn’t there, and Morgan’s eyes on her had been just a little more than friendly, more than just superficially appreciative. She felt a touch of guilt. It felt good to be wanted, to feel needed-and perhaps she needed that a bit too much right now, when Kyle seemed to be going out of his way to tell her he didn’t need her, when in her heart she was afraid he didn’t want her as he once had.