Lorna reached over to tuck Johnny in, automatically straightening her son’s cowlick as she bent to kiss him good night. “Don’t stay up late,” he ordered her sleepily.

Lorna smiled, flicking out the light next to him. “Sleep well, sweets. I love you.”

“Mom.”

She turned at the door.

“Where’d he come from? You never had him around before.”

“Johnny,” she said patiently, “I explained. He was someone I knew a long time ago-that was the reason I invited him for dinner.”

“Yeah, I know what you said.” Johnny hesitated, mashing back the pillow behind his head. “And he’s okay. He’s got a neat car, and all those stories about criminals and stuff. I mean, I like him fine, but I don’t know about you. He’s a man’s man, you know?”

She swallowed a grin. “No, I’m not sure that I do.”

“You just tell him to go home. You’re tired.”

And that was the truth, she thought as she detoured into the bathroom before facing Matthew again. She brushed her hair into a thick glossy curtain that just touched her shoulders, then sat down on the edge of the porcelain tub and simply breathed. For the first time in hours.

So many conflicting emotions were churning inside her that she felt as though her heart had been put through a blender. It wasn’t that the dinner had been so traumatic; it hadn’t been. Johnny had gregariously taken over the conversation, and once he’d discovered that Matthew was a criminal lawyer, he’d grilled the attorney with all his nine-year-old guile. No amount of softspoken admonishments or maternal kicks under the table had stopped his offensive. Johnny, the spoiled brat, considered it his right to vet any man Lorna saw. His hostility toward and mistrust of Matthew had been instant. The thaw had been marginal.