“Speaking as a driver, Misha, I’d take an inch of liquor in that stomach of yours over a mile of temper.” He leaned back against his desk, dangling one leg over one edge. For an instant, his dark eyes glinted with amusement, and then didn’t. “I never meant to upset you,” he said quietly.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Matthew was staring at her; finally she managed to look away, her pulse beating erratically. He was not her brother-in-law now; she could not seem to remember exactly what it felt like to relate to him as a brother. “I shouldn’t have come here,” she said distractedly. “I never really expected you to say yes. I convinced myself that you would, because I knew you would honor your brother’s debts, but it wasn’t exactly a debt. Even then. Richard regarded the ten thousand dollars as payoff money-”

“I’ll give you the money, Misha.”

“But you never had anything to do with it. It’s just…my father’s dead…I have no one else to go to, and I told myself I didn’t care if I looked like a fool. That I could at least try, and then if you said no, I could walk right back out again…” She stared at him as he lifted the glass of amber liquid to his lips. For the first time, she noticed how tired he looked. There were lines of strain around his eyes, one long streak of silver in his hair that hadn’t been there years ago. She glanced again at the silver sideburns. They added a distinguished air to his virile good looks, yet she felt a curious pang that he actually looked his thirty-eight years. “I could have sworn you just said you were going to give me the money,” she said absently.

“I did. I knew the moment I walked in and saw you here that whatever gave you the courage to come here had to be really important to you. Do you want to tell me over dinner, Misha?”

“I…” Her head whirled. “No, I can’t, Matthew. Johnny’s waiting. There’s someone taking care of him, but I have to get back.”