No Rules(10)

“If Wally spoke to you, he told you,” he insisted. Satisfaction and anticipation at getting what he wanted filled his dark eyes.

She blinked hard, startled by how compelling that look was, knowing it shouldn’t feel so damn sexy. It was smoldering, for God’s sake. Something was wrong with her. The combination of fear and anger must be messing with her hormones. Clearing her throat, she mentally reached for the point where she’d lost their conversation. “Told me what?”

“Whatever it was he wanted me to know. I don’t know. You tell me.”

She shook her head, as much to clear it of the overwhelming sense of drowning in a sea of pheromones as to tell him he was wrong. “He didn’t say anything. Not unless you’re expecting a message about furry woodland creatures.”

“What?” Confusion made him squint as his hand dropped away. She told herself the sudden sense of loss did not mean she missed his touch.

“That’s what we talked about. Bunnies and beavers and a wolf. Characters in a children’s fairy tale.”

“There has to be something else. Think.”

“There isn’t.”

He shook his head with annoyance. “Wally wouldn’t go to the trouble of diverting through Houston when he was…when he was so pressed for time, just to discuss drivel like that.”

She noted the hesitation, as if he’d changed what he’d been about to say, but that wasn’t the part that made her temper flare. “That drivel is my career, Mr. Donovan. I write children’s books. Good ones, award-winning books. My father was talking about ideas for a story. It just proves his loss of contact with reality. I’m sorry to tell you it was a reversion to childhood, the kind of thing you see with dementia. My first book was based on a story he’d told me when I was growing up, and apparently he knew that. He was reliving the past.”

Donovan was unmoved. “No he wasn’t. You’re talking about your childhood, not his.”

She frowned. “Whatever. It had nothing to do with anything.”

“Impossible.” His gaze pinned her as if he might draw information straight from her mind. Their depths were mesmerizing and far too close for comfort. She tried to focus on something else. The stubble on his cheeks drew her gaze until she realized her fingers itched to touch the purely male roughness. Not appropriate. The scar on his chin was safer, until she imagined smoothing her thumb over the indentation. Annoyed at having another tactile desire, she frowned and looked away, wondering what was wrong with her. Good Lord, would she have to add split-personality disorder to her long list of psychoses?

“Why did you agree to meet him?”

“What?” She pretended puzzlement, embarrassed to admit she knew what he meant. Resenting her father had become more than a habit; it was almost a comfortable state, hating him for rejecting her rather than allowing herself to feel perpetually hurt.

“You don’t seem to like him, so how did he get you to agree to meet him?”

“Curiosity,” she admitted, shrugging to minimize its importance. “He said he had a great idea for a story. A writer can’t afford to reject great ideas.” Saying it reminded her not only of the story her father had told, but his eyes as they drank her in, noting her every move and occasionally going dreamy and distant. His wistful looks had tugged at those old, fond memories, and hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Forget it, forget it. “I think he just said it to get me to meet him.”

Donovan’s face lit up with a smile, causing her stomach to do strange flips. “So he used the story as a lure so he could give you the information he needed me to have.”

The thought of her father tricking her into a meeting didn’t sit well. “That’s not possible. I told you, he didn’t say anything important.”

“You didn’t recognize it as important. But he said it, believe me. Think. Every word he said.”

She huffed her irritation. “I don’t have an eidetic memory, and I was distracted. I can’t recall every single word. I’m sure he made a comment about the weather, or about the menu, but so what?”

“There.” She nearly jumped at his exclamation. “That’s it. We use code phrases about those exact things. I knew it.”

“Who is we? And why the hell do you use code phrases?”

Donovan’s joy lasted another two seconds before his abrasive personality kicked back in. “Look, this could take some time. Right now I need to get you out of here.”

He moved to take her arm again, but she shook off his hand and stepped backward. “Oh, no, I’m not the one leaving. You are.”