She frowned in disapproval. "Have all of you looked for Leo?"
His sense of humor at her questions faded. "One way or another."
"What do you remember about him?" she asked.
Michael paused, resisting the memories for a moment because he never remembered without subsequent pain and heavy, heavy guilt. "He was a fighter," Michael said. "He was only a year older than I was, and I did my best to keep up with all of them, but Leo was tough. Hell, he would even try to take on Damien. That never lasted long. Damien would just pin him down until he agreed to quit. Then Leo would get up and take another quick swipe before he ran off."
"Sounds like he was a pistol," Bella said with a soft smile.
He nodded. "Yeah, we all were, but he seemed to run full tilt from the minute he woke up until the minute he went to sleep. He was always afraid of missing something … ." His chest squeezed tight, making the words difficult. He cleared his throat. "He liked animals. He was always bringing home a stray something and Dad would have to find another home for it because my mother said she had too many two-legged animals to take care of."
"And they never found any sign of him?" she said, more than asked, shaking her head.
"Every body was recovered except his," he said and the old determination rolled through him again. "If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to find him."
Bella leaned forward and slid her hand across the table to touch his. "I believe you will."
Something inside him eased at her confidence in him. He knew it wasn't based on flattery because she'd essentially already gotten what she wanted from him and she was still pissed that he'd pushed her into their affair. Soon enough she'd realize that he'd done what needed to be done for both of them.
He captured her hand with his. "Your turn for questions is over. My turn now. What's your favorite dessert?"
"Double-chocolate brownies with frosting," she said with a guilty expression on her face. "Decadent."
"Just like you," he said.
Her eyes lit with arousal but she looked away as if she was determined to fight her attraction to him. That irritated the hell out of him. There would be no denial from any part of her when he took her tonight in his bed.
Seven
O n Saturday morning, Michael surprised himself by sleeping an entire hour later than usual. He did his usual workout and was surprised even more at the sight of Bella dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes and her head covered by a bandana, walking out of the room where she kept her belongings.
"You're up early," he said."I'm painting today," she said.
He frowned. "It didn't look like the spa needed it."
"I'm not painting the spa. I'm volunteering-painting a children's activity center downtown."
"That's nice of you," he said.
"They need help with some repairs if you're interested. If you're handy, I hear they need some help with wiring and the gas heater."
"You sound like Damien," he said, thinking of his oldest brother. "He started building houses for charity and keeps telling Rafe and me that we should do the same."
"Why don't you?"
"I donate generously to several charities. My money is more valuable than my manpower."
"Do you mentor anyone?"
Her question took him off guard. "No. My schedule is packed. It wouldn't be fair to promise to mentor someone with the limited time I have."
"Hmm," she said.
Her noncommittal sound irritated him and he narrowed his eyes. Most would have heeded his expression as a warning.
"It's a good thing your mentor made the time he did for you, isn't it?"
No one besides his brothers would dare get in his face like she did. "My mentor was retired. I'm not."
"Excuses, excuses," she said, a smile playing around her lips. "But I understand if you're afraid of getting involved."
"Afraid," he echoed, snatching her hand and pulling her against him. "You aren't trying to manipulate me into charity involvement, are you?"
She paused a half beat. "Yes. Is it working?"
He couldn't help chuckling. "Not at all."
"Okay, no goading," she said. "I dare you to come down to the community children's center and help." She met his gaze, her lips lifted in a sultry half smile. She tossed her head and lifted her chin. "See ya if you're brave enough." She turned and walked away, her saucy butt swinging from side to side as she exited his house.
"Witch," he muttered and dismissed her so-called dare. He had real work to do. Walking to his office, he sat down with his laptop and crunched numbers. He worked without pausing for the next hour and a half.
The second he stopped, silence closed around him like a thick cloud. Bella and her dare jabbed at him. Silly, he thought. Stupid. A waste of time. Bella was a misplaced do-gooder. Children didn't need paint. They needed … parents.
The twinge inside him took him by surprise. He frowned at the odd sensation and shrugged, turning back to his number crunching, but his concentration came and went.
Ten minutes later, he sighed, swearing under his breath and leaned back in his leather chair. Raking his hand through his hair, he shook his head. Stupid dare, he thought, remembering the expression in her mesmerizing, nearly purple eyes.
In the long run, how much did a fresh coat of paint really matter? Two more minutes of denial rolled through his brain and he tossed his pen at his desk and turned off his laptop. What a surprise. He toyed with the idea of joining her. He liked the notion of surprising her. He liked the idea of doing something with his hands other than using his laptop or BlackBerry. Even the devil had a conscience. Or perhaps the devil couldn't resist a dare from a woman with black hair and purple eyes.
Bella continued edging the walls of one of the playrooms. She much preferred rolling paint on the walls because that part of the job was easier and more rewarding, but edging was crucial to the finished product. She would take her turn with the roller later on."Sandwich? Water?" Rose, a mother of one of the children who visited the center, offered as she carried a tray.
Bella smiled and lifted her water bottle, having chatted with the young woman earlier that morning. "I'm still good, thank you. How's it going in the other rooms?" she asked as she turned back to edging.
"Very well, except the service man hasn't arrived to fix the heater," Rose said. "It's gas and I'm really concerned about the safety if-" She broke off. "Oh, hello," she said, her voice a bit breathless. "Can I help you?"
"I wondered if you could use two more hands," Michael said.
Surprised, Bella whipped around and kicked over her paint can. "Oh, no." She bent down to right it, but he caught it first. Her face mere inches from his, she felt her heart race.
He gave a half grin that made her stomach dip. "I didn't know you were planning on painting the floor."
She scowled. "It's your fault. You surprised me. I was sure you weren't coming. What made you?" Realization hit her and she answered for him. "The dare."
"I don't accept every dare. It depends on the source and actual dare."
"Well, I feel honored," she said and picked up an extra brush and put it in his hand. "Rose, this is Michael Medici. Rose's son takes part in the center's activities," Bella said.
"Good to meet you," he said.
Rose's eyes were wide with admiration. "Good to meet you, Mr. Medici. I'm so grateful for your help. Excuse me while I check on my son."
"I'm thrilled for you to finish the edging," Bella said, wondering how he would respond to the not-so-desirable task.
He glanced around the room and shrugged. "Should be cake."
Surprised again, she watched him begin and noticed he worked with speed and ease. "When did you get your painting experience?"
"Painted the entire group home twice. Once while I lived there as a teenager and once after I left. Nobody else wanted to edge, so I took that job."
"And became an expert," she said, envying his skill. "You can do it freehand."
"Part of my philosophy. If you're going to do something, be the best at it."
She should have expected that. His competitiveness was born not only from the need to survive, but from his determination to thrive. She still wondered though, why had he accepted her dare? Was there a secret tenderness underneath his hard, cynical exterior? Or was she just dreaming? She felt a hot rush of embarrassment. Why was she dreaming?