She didn’t either.
“Before we begin the story again.” His voice was still low, still feline. “We need to sort a few things.”
Her fingers curled into fists on the keyboard.
“Ye remember.” He moved farther away, to stand in the window bay. “My bedroom.”
A flush of mortification heated inside. Not only because he’d caught her there, but because he’d seen something no one had seen for years. One of her attacks.
“Where do ye want to begin, Ms. Douglas?” His voice, the magic instrument that seduced her more than his body or his arms or his gaze, turned from enigmatic to harsh.
Jen snatched her hands off the keyboard.
“Shall we start with your panic attacks?”
His choice, when she’d been expecting another inquisition about her trespassing, startled her enough she jerked her head to stare at him.
“Yes,” he murmured, those odd eyes of his gleaming with interest. “Let’s start with that.”
“There’s nothing to say.” She returned her focus to the computer.
“How often do ye have them?”
If she had a pound for every time she’d had to answer these questions, she’d be as rich as the Queen of England. The attacks had started from the moment she’d lost her parents and even though she knew how to handle them now, they never ceased to scare her.
Because they reminded her. Every time.
She was alone.
“I don’t want to talk about this.” Her lips firmed. “We need to start working.”
“The story will still be there in my head and heart when we’re done with this conversation.”
His determination fired a small glint of rebellion in her. Jen swung around in the chair and gave him a good glare. Or she thought it was one. She didn’t usually glare. “Is this some sort of sport for you? Do you think because I’m some plain, little nobody, I don’t have a right to my own privacy?”
“Plain, little nobody?” One brow arched. “Is that how ye see yourself?”
“No.” The rebellion flamed. Not only against him and his questions, but against all the people who’d taken her for granted and believed they knew what was best for her. “It’s how you see me.”
“Do I?” He leaned on the wall in his familiar, negligent way.
“Yes.” She stood, her body trembling because she didn’t do this. She didn’t fight or confront. She didn’t throw words at people or attempt to change their mind. Whenever she’d tried in the past, it caused another attack. So she’d learned not to do this. This fighting and yelling. “I’m leaving since we aren’t going to work.”
He prowled to the door and closed it before she could disappear. “No, you’re not.”
“I don’t want to be here.” No words could ever be truer. She didn’t want to be here to steal or have her heart stolen. “You can’t make me stay.”
“Hmm.” Purring his signature sound, he stationed himself at the door, arms crossed, a formidable barrier.
“Move.” She kept herself behind the desk, unwilling to place herself within his grasp.
“All right.” His gaze never left hers. “We’ll leave that particular subject alone for now, since you’re being obstinate.”
Obstinate. A word that had never been used about her before. She supposed she should be offended, yet something deep inside swelled with an odd pride. “Then I’ll stay. If we work.”
“Let’s instead talk about why ye were in my bedroom.”
His swift switch back to the topic she’d dreaded made her brain freeze.
His mouth curled at her silence. “Nothing to say once again. That’s interesting.”
“I was interested,” she blurted, grabbing onto his last words as inspiration.
“What?” His big body straightened, and the light of something she didn’t want to deal with flashed in his eyes. “What do ye mean by that?”
She couldn’t go backward. She couldn’t tell him she was snooping. The only way was forward. Sod it. Shrugging her shoulders, she pasted a bland look on her face. “I just was looking around.”
“In my bedroom.” His voice had gone silky, an implicit message rounding each word.
Jen’s heart trembled as the message wove around and around her. “I need to leave.”
“Ye do that a lot, don’t ye?” He didn’t move from his stance. “Leave when things get a bit rough.”
He had no idea what he was talking about. The opposite was true, so true it had almost ruined her life. Not until two years ago, when she had made her stand. Finally leaving behind a life fashioned for her far before she’d had the courage to say no. “Please move away from the door.”