didn’t
hurt either.
She didn’t regret her years with Michael Reynolds.
Underneath that hard exterior, he was a good man and she had been happy for him
when he fell in love with Vanny Donald. She was only sorry she couldn’t stay to
arrange the wedding—assuming he had ever gotten around to asking Vanny—but by
then it had proven too risky to stay, for a number of reasons. One of which was
standing in front of her now, grilling her.
“Andrea will do,” she said.
“So what’s the deal, then, Andrea ? Why the big
charade, with Michael I’m talking about. Eight years and you’re not even who
you said you were and then you disappear without a word?”
“Thank you for the recap. I’d quite forgotten.” She was
trying for her frostiest Stepford secretary voice, but it was rusty and further
undercut by the fact that he scooped her up as if she really did weigh no more
than a kitten and carried her to the newly made bed, depositing her in the
middle, sitting up. He then fluffed the pillows behind her. She wanted to be
mad, but it felt so fresh and warm and comfy in his bed. All those years of
living as Andrea Prentiss had softened her too much and the last six months had
not whipped that need for softness out of her. Sadly. From the way he was
glaring at her, she probably wasn’t in for too much more of it. Once she was
fully healed—forget about even taking her back in his boat—he’d probably rather
toss her into the ocean and make her swim back.
She had a horrible thought. Worse than being tossed into the
ocean. “You didn’t tell Michael I was here, did you?”
“ Michael , is it now? Not into the character of prim
and prissy executive assistant anymore?”
“Did you?”
He watched her carefully, then sat on the edge of the bed.
“What if I did? Why does that scare you so much?”
Panicked, she tried to get out of bed and with no more than
one hand, he prevented her. “Settle down. My communications systems aren’t
exactly state of the art. They were down for the storm and calling big brother
wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind when they got restored.”
“So no one knows I’m here.”
He paused.
“I have to leave if they do.”
“No. No one knows you’re here. Hell, I’m not even sure
you’re really here. I’d watch you sleeping and think that maybe I was just
dreaming this whole bizarre episode.” He swiped his slight five-o’clock shadow.
“The only reason I know it’s not is if I dreamed you showing up here, it sure
as well wouldn’t have been with a knife wound and half unconscious.”
The way he said it and the way his eyes quickly swept her
face and then skittered away again made her think that he meant he would have
dreamed her showing up for sex. That was all he wanted from her originally
anyway, wasn’t it? What had possessed her to show up here as if he would care
that she was hurt and in trouble?
The thought made her angry even though she had no right to
be, especially after the way he had taken her in. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up to one
of our little rendezvous. Is that why you patched me up? Hoping to get some
recompense in our usual fashion of exchange?”
“Fuck you!”
She swallowed, ashamed of herself. God, she was so out to
sea on this one. She should have never gotten involved with Evan Reynolds and
she sure as hell should have never come here.
“That was uncalled for,” she admitted softly. “I’m sorry.”
If he was pacified by her apology, he didn’t show it. “What
is this all about, Andrea? I have a right to know at this point. Am I harboring
a criminal or something?”
“Would that bother you?”
“Depends on the crime,” he said carefully.
“I’ve never been convicted of any crime,” she hedged. Yet. She might be one bloody corpse away, though.
“So what is it, then?”
She weighed whether to tell him. For the first time in her
life, she wanted to tell someone. She never had before. Not the expensive
school therapists.
hurt either.
She didn’t regret her years with Michael Reynolds.
Underneath that hard exterior, he was a good man and she had been happy for him
when he fell in love with Vanny Donald. She was only sorry she couldn’t stay to
arrange the wedding—assuming he had ever gotten around to asking Vanny—but by
then it had proven too risky to stay, for a number of reasons. One of which was
standing in front of her now, grilling her.
“Andrea will do,” she said.
“So what’s the deal, then, Andrea ? Why the big
charade, with Michael I’m talking about. Eight years and you’re not even who
you said you were and then you disappear without a word?”
“Thank you for the recap. I’d quite forgotten.” She was
trying for her frostiest Stepford secretary voice, but it was rusty and further
undercut by the fact that he scooped her up as if she really did weigh no more
than a kitten and carried her to the newly made bed, depositing her in the
middle, sitting up. He then fluffed the pillows behind her. She wanted to be
mad, but it felt so fresh and warm and comfy in his bed. All those years of
living as Andrea Prentiss had softened her too much and the last six months had
not whipped that need for softness out of her. Sadly. From the way he was
glaring at her, she probably wasn’t in for too much more of it. Once she was
fully healed—forget about even taking her back in his boat—he’d probably rather
toss her into the ocean and make her swim back.
She had a horrible thought. Worse than being tossed into the
ocean. “You didn’t tell Michael I was here, did you?”
“ Michael , is it now? Not into the character of prim
and prissy executive assistant anymore?”
“Did you?”
He watched her carefully, then sat on the edge of the bed.
“What if I did? Why does that scare you so much?”
Panicked, she tried to get out of bed and with no more than
one hand, he prevented her. “Settle down. My communications systems aren’t
exactly state of the art. They were down for the storm and calling big brother
wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind when they got restored.”
“So no one knows I’m here.”
He paused.
“I have to leave if they do.”
“No. No one knows you’re here. Hell, I’m not even sure
you’re really here. I’d watch you sleeping and think that maybe I was just
dreaming this whole bizarre episode.” He swiped his slight five-o’clock shadow.
“The only reason I know it’s not is if I dreamed you showing up here, it sure
as well wouldn’t have been with a knife wound and half unconscious.”
The way he said it and the way his eyes quickly swept her
face and then skittered away again made her think that he meant he would have
dreamed her showing up for sex. That was all he wanted from her originally
anyway, wasn’t it? What had possessed her to show up here as if he would care
that she was hurt and in trouble?
The thought made her angry even though she had no right to
be, especially after the way he had taken her in. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up to one
of our little rendezvous. Is that why you patched me up? Hoping to get some
recompense in our usual fashion of exchange?”
“Fuck you!”
She swallowed, ashamed of herself. God, she was so out to
sea on this one. She should have never gotten involved with Evan Reynolds and
she sure as hell should have never come here.
“That was uncalled for,” she admitted softly. “I’m sorry.”
If he was pacified by her apology, he didn’t show it. “What
is this all about, Andrea? I have a right to know at this point. Am I harboring
a criminal or something?”
“Would that bother you?”
“Depends on the crime,” he said carefully.
“I’ve never been convicted of any crime,” she hedged. Yet. She might be one bloody corpse away, though.
“So what is it, then?”
She weighed whether to tell him. For the first time in her
life, she wanted to tell someone. She never had before. Not the expensive
school therapists.
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