many ways we’re a lot alike.”
She shook her head. “You’re nothing alike.”
“You don’t think I’m the artistic, solitary type?”
“I don’t know what type of person you are.” She studied him. His expression was slightly mocking, but his dark eyes were sparkling. “Do you?”
“I know exactly who I am. I just dislike sharing it with all and sundry. Do you want to see Judd’s painting? Or maybe you’ve had a look around already?”
“No, just the upstairs.” She followed him from the room. “This is quite a place. I’d think you’d use it more often.”
“I get restless.” He opened a paneled door. “This is the library. It’s the one room Judd totally approves of.”
Books. Books everywhere. “So do I.” She went into the room and caressingly touched the leather spine of a book on the shelf closest to the door. “You couldn’t get a room with this many books wrong.”
“You like to read?”
“I love it.” She went around looking at titles. Everything from classics to how-to manuals. “When I was a kid, there was no way I had access to TV or movies, but my father managed to get me thousands of paperback books over the years. That’s all I needed.”
“No, that’s not all you needed. Tell me, were you on the reward system? Shoot a sniper, read a book?”
She flinched. “You don’t understand. My father wasn’t a heartless monster. He came to Colombia as a mercenary with the rebels and he stayed as a patriot. He met my mother and he learned to love her and her country. He wanted to change things. He believed in what he was doing.”
“Did you believe in what he was doing?”
“I believed in him.”
“Would you let your son be taught the things he taught you?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. “My father did the best he could. After my mother was killed by government troops, he became obsessed with the cause. Defeating them was worthany sacrifice. He couldn’t give it up, and he was left with me and Luis to raise. He wanted to keep us with him.”
“Where is Luis now?”
She looked away from him. “He’s still with the rebels.”
“I take it you’re not close.”
“No.” She touched another cover.
“Macbeth
. Do you like Shakespeare?”
“Culture? Me? I bought the entire stock from an estate auction.”
“Really?”
“Why should that surprise you?”
She stiffened as a thought occurred to her. “It only surprises me you feel it necessary to lie to me.”
“Why do you think I’m lying to you?”
“Aren’t you?”
He was silent a moment. “I did buy the library at an estate auction. But I examined every book on those shelves before I made my bid. I do like Shakespeare. He understood human frailties. Are you satisfied now?”
“No, because I think you lied so I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’ve led a rough life and I haven’t had any formal education, but I’m not ashamed of what I am or what my father was or what I’ve had to do to survive. I’d match my—”
“Shh.” His fingers were across her lips. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m not that stupid. You’re probably a hell of a lot better educated than I’ll ever be. I was kicked out of more schools than you can count on both hands. I didn’t even crack a bookuntil I was fifteen. I was the most ignorant rowdy on the face of the planet. If I wasn’t honest, it was my built-in camouflage coming into play.”
She turned her head away to avoid the touch of his hand. He was warm and hard and her lips felt—She drew a deep breath and stepped back. “Why? You don’t care what I think about you.”
“It appears I do. What a surprise.” He nodded at the wall behind her. “That’s Judd’s painting.”
As she turned around, she felt a surge of relief that he’d changed the subject. She didn’t like what she was feeling. The sexual tension had emerged out of nowhere, and she wanted to snuff it out.
The painting. Look at the
She shook her head. “You’re nothing alike.”
“You don’t think I’m the artistic, solitary type?”
“I don’t know what type of person you are.” She studied him. His expression was slightly mocking, but his dark eyes were sparkling. “Do you?”
“I know exactly who I am. I just dislike sharing it with all and sundry. Do you want to see Judd’s painting? Or maybe you’ve had a look around already?”
“No, just the upstairs.” She followed him from the room. “This is quite a place. I’d think you’d use it more often.”
“I get restless.” He opened a paneled door. “This is the library. It’s the one room Judd totally approves of.”
Books. Books everywhere. “So do I.” She went into the room and caressingly touched the leather spine of a book on the shelf closest to the door. “You couldn’t get a room with this many books wrong.”
“You like to read?”
“I love it.” She went around looking at titles. Everything from classics to how-to manuals. “When I was a kid, there was no way I had access to TV or movies, but my father managed to get me thousands of paperback books over the years. That’s all I needed.”
“No, that’s not all you needed. Tell me, were you on the reward system? Shoot a sniper, read a book?”
She flinched. “You don’t understand. My father wasn’t a heartless monster. He came to Colombia as a mercenary with the rebels and he stayed as a patriot. He met my mother and he learned to love her and her country. He wanted to change things. He believed in what he was doing.”
“Did you believe in what he was doing?”
“I believed in him.”
“Would you let your son be taught the things he taught you?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. “My father did the best he could. After my mother was killed by government troops, he became obsessed with the cause. Defeating them was worthany sacrifice. He couldn’t give it up, and he was left with me and Luis to raise. He wanted to keep us with him.”
“Where is Luis now?”
She looked away from him. “He’s still with the rebels.”
“I take it you’re not close.”
“No.” She touched another cover.
“Macbeth
. Do you like Shakespeare?”
“Culture? Me? I bought the entire stock from an estate auction.”
“Really?”
“Why should that surprise you?”
She stiffened as a thought occurred to her. “It only surprises me you feel it necessary to lie to me.”
“Why do you think I’m lying to you?”
“Aren’t you?”
He was silent a moment. “I did buy the library at an estate auction. But I examined every book on those shelves before I made my bid. I do like Shakespeare. He understood human frailties. Are you satisfied now?”
“No, because I think you lied so I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’ve led a rough life and I haven’t had any formal education, but I’m not ashamed of what I am or what my father was or what I’ve had to do to survive. I’d match my—”
“Shh.” His fingers were across her lips. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m not that stupid. You’re probably a hell of a lot better educated than I’ll ever be. I was kicked out of more schools than you can count on both hands. I didn’t even crack a bookuntil I was fifteen. I was the most ignorant rowdy on the face of the planet. If I wasn’t honest, it was my built-in camouflage coming into play.”
She turned her head away to avoid the touch of his hand. He was warm and hard and her lips felt—She drew a deep breath and stepped back. “Why? You don’t care what I think about you.”
“It appears I do. What a surprise.” He nodded at the wall behind her. “That’s Judd’s painting.”
As she turned around, she felt a surge of relief that he’d changed the subject. She didn’t like what she was feeling. The sexual tension had emerged out of nowhere, and she wanted to snuff it out.
The painting. Look at the
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