The Billionaire's Touch (The Sinclairs #3)(10)

Randi sent the email, hoping she hadn’t crossed the invisible line that she and her pen pal had drawn by asking for personal details. She’d shared her situation with her foster parents willingly, though she’d left out the particulars. They shared thoughts and feelings, but never details.

He had recently said he sometimes wished they could meet face-to-face. Sometimes Randi wanted that, too, and more often than not she wanted to know more about the man who had been her confidant through some very difficult times.

“The mysterious man in my life,” Randi murmured under her breath. “What’s his first name? Starting with S?” Stewart? Sam? Sylvester? Scott? Seth? Randi had gone through the list many times. None of those names had ever quite fit.

Her heart accelerated as she saw an answer pop into her mailbox almost immediately. She clicked on the mouse to show his response.



Dear M.,

I’m glad you’re feeling a little less conflicted, but sorry you are feeling so alone. Please let me know what I can do to help you. I know we’ve never met in person, but you’ve been more of a friend to me than anyone else in my life in the past year.

Are my parents living? Yes . . . and no. My father died when I was in college and I haven’t seen my mother for many years. She doesn’t want anything to do with me or my siblings. The last I heard, she was living with a guy in Europe, probably trying to forget about my deceased, alcoholic father. He wasn’t a pleasant man. Perhaps that’s too much information, but it’s the truth.

I’m not in Boston at the moment, but I haven’t gone to a warmer climate, unfortunately.

Hope you manage to stay warm, too.

Sincerely,

S.



Randi had to read the email twice, surprised that S. had shared so much personal information. Then again, maybe she shouldn’t be shocked. She’d certainly poured her heart out to him about her foster parents over the last few months. Maybe he felt more comfortable. She hit “Reply,” somehow knowing he was waiting for her response. Sometimes it played out that way. They had a back-and-forth discussion when both of them happened to be on the computer at the same time.



Dear S.,

Where are you now?



She didn’t bother to sign the reply because they were in conversation mode at the moment. He answered within a minute.



Maine. And can I just say that it’s pretty damn cold here.



“He’s here,” Randi whispered, tracing her finger over his answer on the screen. His reply could have been creepy, since she lived in the state he was visiting, but it wasn’t. Whatever his reason might be for visiting Maine, it wasn’t because of her. He’d always known what town she lived in, and she’d been writing to him for over a year. “Don’t do it, Randi. Don’t ask him to meet up. He’s probably here on business or fundraising. Most likely in some rich area where donors can be found,” she reasoned to herself quietly. Her fear of meeting an unknown male overrode her desire to see him, no matter how much she’d like to know him in person.

Randi typed back a quick reply.



Why are you here? BTW . . . there’s a storm coming. I hope you don’t get stuck here.



His response came back quickly.



I have family in Maine. I’m just visiting. And no, I didn’t know we were expecting bad weather. But it’s not a problem if I have to stay here a little longer. I have a place to stay.



It made sense. He was in the area for a family visit, and he hadn’t said a word about meeting her in person. Seeing each other face-to-face would be as unlikely as it was inadvisable. With a major storm coming their way, they could hardly meet. She answered him for the last time, knowing she needed to get moving.



I have to get going, but I hope you have a good time with your family. Maybe we can talk if you get bored during the storm.



She moved her mouse to sign off the Center’s computer, but she saw a reply pop back into her mailbox almost instantly.



Hot date?



Randi laughed aloud, glad there was nobody else in the Center’s computer room at the moment. It was Friday night, and the two of them often caught up and went into conversation mode on date nights, razzing each other because they were both alone when most single people like them were out on the town. Unable to resist answering, she typed a response.



Actually, I do have a date, but whether it’s hot or not is still in question. A high school friend of mine wanted me to meet her brother. She thinks we’d get along well. We’re meeting up in a few minutes. So I have to go. Talk to you soon. Stay safe during the storm.



She really did have to go, so she shrugged her jacket on as she stared at the screen, almost wishing she didn’t have a kind-of-a-date with Liam Sullivan, her friend Tessa’s brother. She knew of Liam, but she’d only said a handful of words to him in the past. After months of Tessa’s nagging, Randi had finally agreed to have coffee with him at Brew Magic. If she didn’t move her rear, she’d be late.

She didn’t really expect a reply from S. since she’d basically said good-bye, but she got one anyway.



You have a date with a local guy on a Friday night? I think I’m jealous. I hope you have a lousy time while I’m sitting here alone working. Be careful and email me when you get home.