and desire unraveled within the confines of her body. She edged forward, but she didn’t sit down.
"If you say so."
"You know where I’ve been."
Again, not a question. A statement. Nicholas shrugged. "Of course."
"I was lonely… and on edge." Her frayed nerves made her blunt.
"I’ve been busy, although I empathize with how restless you must feel. It’s clear you aren’t accustomed to being inactive. If it’s any consolation, I don’t react well to restrictions, either."
"And the weather hasn’t exactly cooperated, has it?" She smiled tentatively, relieved that he hadn’t launched into more grilling about her life. She noticed the files stacked on the side of his desk. "The work you mentioned?"
Nicholas nodded, his gaze dismissive as he flicked a glance at the thick files.
"I broke your rules."
She sounded more unrepentant than usual, which made him chuckle. The sound, so soft, so sensual, lifted the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She kept her gaze on his face.
"You’re forgiven."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I think you’re on the verge of running into the woods and screaming yourself hoarse. I recognize cabin fever when I see it."
"The scenery, the house, it’s extraordinary and I love it, but I loathe feeling trapped." She moved closer. Pausing behind one of the chairs, she gripped the top edge with both hands. "I’m mildly claustrophobic."
He frowned. "Any problems when you were in the art vault?"
She shook her head, surprised by his obvious concern. "It’s a spacious area."
"I’ll show you the control panel for the wall of windows on that level. My dealer in London urged me to avoid subjecting the artwork to sunlight, but it’s shaded on that side of the house in the late afternoon."
She stared at him. "Those paintings are originals?"
He shrugged. "Seemed logical to buy the originals since I like them so much."
"Oh," she breathed.
He smiled. "Beautiful, aren’t they?"
"Too tame a word. Magnificent seems better."
"I’m glad you like them."
"I do. Very much." Hannah circled one of the chairs and settled into it. "Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but…"
"… but you’re feeling anxious," he suggested.
"Forget anxious. I’m a train wreck!"
Nicholas eased back in his chair.
Hannah took the direct approach. "I must know if you’ve tried to get a message to Sean, and if you really have any intention of helping me to find him."
When he remained silent, she continued, no longer caring if she sounded reckless. "I’ve been here for five days. I didn’t expect it to take this long to locate my brother."
His eyes reminded Hannah of the steel in his personality as he studied her in the diffused mid–afternoon light. He exhaled, the air that gusted free of his body sounding like a signal that he’d made a difficult decision.
"I’m willing to talk to you about my friendship with Sean, but there are limits to what I can reveal."
Startled, she asked, "Why now? Why not five days ago, or two days ago?"
"I think you’re ready to listen."
She bit back a sharp retort, a chastisement for his decision to delay this conversation. "Talk, Nicholas."
"I met Sean eighteen years ago in London when I was on a mission. What I liked most about him was his ability to adapt to any environment. We had friends in common and worked in the same world, although Sean was fairly new to it. Anyway, he had a quiet but very competent manner about him that inspired trust. We parted on good terms. Although I respected him, I sensed his reluctance to form close friendships, which is surprising given the nature of the work we did. Warfare tends to foster blood bonds, especially when blood is shed in defense of a brother or sister in combat."
Long retired memories surfaced in Hannah’s mind. "Sean was a courier for the State Department in those days… wasn’t he?"
Nicholas’s expression suddenly looked less open, although he nodded. "At the time, he worked for State. We both traveled a lot, and we ran
"If you say so."
"You know where I’ve been."
Again, not a question. A statement. Nicholas shrugged. "Of course."
"I was lonely… and on edge." Her frayed nerves made her blunt.
"I’ve been busy, although I empathize with how restless you must feel. It’s clear you aren’t accustomed to being inactive. If it’s any consolation, I don’t react well to restrictions, either."
"And the weather hasn’t exactly cooperated, has it?" She smiled tentatively, relieved that he hadn’t launched into more grilling about her life. She noticed the files stacked on the side of his desk. "The work you mentioned?"
Nicholas nodded, his gaze dismissive as he flicked a glance at the thick files.
"I broke your rules."
She sounded more unrepentant than usual, which made him chuckle. The sound, so soft, so sensual, lifted the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She kept her gaze on his face.
"You’re forgiven."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I think you’re on the verge of running into the woods and screaming yourself hoarse. I recognize cabin fever when I see it."
"The scenery, the house, it’s extraordinary and I love it, but I loathe feeling trapped." She moved closer. Pausing behind one of the chairs, she gripped the top edge with both hands. "I’m mildly claustrophobic."
He frowned. "Any problems when you were in the art vault?"
She shook her head, surprised by his obvious concern. "It’s a spacious area."
"I’ll show you the control panel for the wall of windows on that level. My dealer in London urged me to avoid subjecting the artwork to sunlight, but it’s shaded on that side of the house in the late afternoon."
She stared at him. "Those paintings are originals?"
He shrugged. "Seemed logical to buy the originals since I like them so much."
"Oh," she breathed.
He smiled. "Beautiful, aren’t they?"
"Too tame a word. Magnificent seems better."
"I’m glad you like them."
"I do. Very much." Hannah circled one of the chairs and settled into it. "Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but…"
"… but you’re feeling anxious," he suggested.
"Forget anxious. I’m a train wreck!"
Nicholas eased back in his chair.
Hannah took the direct approach. "I must know if you’ve tried to get a message to Sean, and if you really have any intention of helping me to find him."
When he remained silent, she continued, no longer caring if she sounded reckless. "I’ve been here for five days. I didn’t expect it to take this long to locate my brother."
His eyes reminded Hannah of the steel in his personality as he studied her in the diffused mid–afternoon light. He exhaled, the air that gusted free of his body sounding like a signal that he’d made a difficult decision.
"I’m willing to talk to you about my friendship with Sean, but there are limits to what I can reveal."
Startled, she asked, "Why now? Why not five days ago, or two days ago?"
"I think you’re ready to listen."
She bit back a sharp retort, a chastisement for his decision to delay this conversation. "Talk, Nicholas."
"I met Sean eighteen years ago in London when I was on a mission. What I liked most about him was his ability to adapt to any environment. We had friends in common and worked in the same world, although Sean was fairly new to it. Anyway, he had a quiet but very competent manner about him that inspired trust. We parted on good terms. Although I respected him, I sensed his reluctance to form close friendships, which is surprising given the nature of the work we did. Warfare tends to foster blood bonds, especially when blood is shed in defense of a brother or sister in combat."
Long retired memories surfaced in Hannah’s mind. "Sean was a courier for the State Department in those days… wasn’t he?"
Nicholas’s expression suddenly looked less open, although he nodded. "At the time, he worked for State. We both traveled a lot, and we ran
Similar Books
