Page 59 of The Luminosity of Loriana Harper

“My place was immaculate when I moved in. The previous owners hired a professional cleaning company—which I really appreciated. I try to clean regularly, but I admit I might procrastinate.”

“How long have you been in town?”

“Not long.”

More evasion.

“And how long were you in California?”

“Too long.”

Whatever that means.

Go for simple.

“How old are you?”

Now she was rewarded with a wry grin. “A gentleman should never tell his age. Especially if he’s younger than the lady doing the questioning.”

She slapped his thigh. “That’s total bullshit. You just made that up.”

He cracked a smile. “So I did.” He grabbed her hand and rested it on his thigh. “I’m twenty-nine. But there are days I feel a whole lot older.”

“Well, seeing as I know you’re not going to ask…” She gave himthatlook and he shrugged sheepishly. “I’m thirty-nine, and most days I feel a whole lot younger.”

“You are.” He ran his other hand down her cheek. “You don’t have any wrinkles. You’re flawless.”

“Hardly.” She scoffed. “And I have wrinkles around my eyes.”

“When you laugh, sure. But those are from joy, not from sorrow.”

She met his gaze. “There’s been sorrow.”

“Your parents? What they put you through?”

“A bit. But I grew up and no longer need their approval. Plus, when my father retired, they moved to Costa Rica. Cheaper than living in Canada.”

“Didn’t you…well…aren’t they rich?”

“Ah, yes. But they want to bemorerich. They pulled up stakes, sold everything up here, and moved south. Truth is, I don’t even miss them. And they never write. Heck, I’m not even sure I’d hear if one or both died.”

His stricken expression caught her up short. “Oh, I’m sure someone will get it touch. But I’m pretty sure they’ll try to take their wealth with them. I’m not expecting to inherit anything.”

He stroked his finger down her arm, and it did all kinds of wonderful things to her insides.

“Yeah, I’m assuming someone will call me when my father dies. We…haven’t kept in touch.”

And she spotted Mitch’s. She had no regrets. She didn’t miss her parents, and likely they never gave her a second thought.

Plato, clearly having enjoyed as much attention as he needed, rose, stretched, then hopped off Mitch’s lap and headed into the living room. Within moments, he was up on his chair.

At least this time he’s not licking his balls.

Her cat didn’t know the meaning of the word discreet.

Mitch released her hand. He pushed himself off the floor and, once righted, held out his hand for her.

She took it gratefully and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

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