Heroes Are My Weakness(86)
“And show me how to use it.”
“That is not a good idea.”
“You’d rather I face whoever is doing this unarmed?”
“I’d rather you didn’t face whoever at all.”
“I’m not running.”
“Damn it, Annie. You’re as reckless now as you were at fifteen.”
She stared at him. She’d never thought of herself as reckless, and she liked the image. She considered it in light of her habit of falling in love with the wrong men, her belief that she could be a great actress, her determination to take Mariah to London for one last trip. And—not to forget—letting Theo Harp possibly get her pregnant.
Mariah, you didn’t know me at all.
He looked frazzled, and the novelty of it made her dig in. “I want a gun, Theo. And I want to learn how to shoot it.”
“It’s too dangerous. You’ll be safe at the house.”
“I don’t want to stay at Hell House. I want to stay here.”
He gazed at her long and hard, then thrust his finger in her face. “All right. Target practice tomorrow afternoon. But you’d better pay attention to every word I say.” He stalked away to the studio.
Annie made herself a sandwich for dinner and went back to sorting through the boxes, but it had been a long day, and she was tired. As she brushed her teeth, she gazed at the closed studio door. Despite everything she’d been telling herself about keeping her distance, she wanted him lying next to her. She wanted him so much that she grabbed a pad of Post-it notes from the kitchen, scrawled on the top one, and stuck it to her bedroom door. Then she closed herself in and went to sleep.
DIGGITY SWIFT WAS DEAD. THEO had done it. The kid had finally slipped up, Dr. Quentin Pierce had caught him, and Theo hadn’t written a word since.
He closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes. His brain was fried, that was all. Tomorrow he’d be able to start with a clear head. By then, the tightness in his chest would have disappeared, and he’d be able to make headway. The middle of any book was the hardest to write, but with Diggity gone, he’d be able to see his way clear of the muddle he’d created and find a pathway to the next chapters. As long as he didn’t start thinking about Annie and what had happened at his farmhouse today . . .
He wouldn’t wake her tonight when he got in bed next to her. He wasn’t some kind of animal with no self-control, even though that was how he felt. The novelty of making love with a woman he hadn’t grown to detest fascinated him. A woman who didn’t fall into a crying jag afterward. Or attack him for some imaginary offense.
Because Annie was so different from the women in his past, he wondered whether he would have noticed her if he’d passed her on the street? Damn right, he would have. The uniqueness of that quirky face would have caught his attention, the way she walked, as if she intended to conquer the ground under her. He liked her height, the funny way she had of looking at people as if she really saw them. He liked her legs—he definitely liked her legs. Annie was an original. And he needed to do a better job of protecting her.
He’d talked to Jessie and her father today, trying to get a feel for how people regarded Annie, but he hadn’t learned anything that raised his suspicions. They were curious about why she’d come to the island, but they were more interested in sharing their stories about Mariah. After the boats got in tomorrow, he intended to hang out at the fish house. He’d take the men some beer, see what he could pick up. He’d also make sure they knew Annie would be armed, a disturbing prospect, but necessary.
He’d come to the island because he couldn’t tolerate being around people, yet here he was, involved with everything. It had been over an hour since he’d heard her go to her room. She’d be wearing those awful pajamas. Or maybe not.
His good intentions vanished. He set aside his laptop and left the studio. But as he saw the Post-it note on her door, he stopped cold. It had one word.
No.
THEO DIDN’T MENTION THE NOTE to her the next morning. He didn’t say much of anything except that he needed his car that day. Only later did she discover he’d driven to the dock to pick up the locksmith. Knowing she didn’t have the money to pay the bill made her feel ashamed.
He was in the studio when she returned to the cottage. She took the box of wine from her closet and carried it out to his car. He opened the kitchen door for her as she came back in. “What did you put in my car?”
“Some excellent wine. You’re welcome. And thanks for taking care of the locks.”
He saw right through her. “I had the locks changed for myself. I can’t chance having my laptop stolen while I’m out.”