Intimate Strangers (8 page)

He joined her at the table, flashed a quick glance at the platter, and then peered at her as he set aside his coffee cup. "I thought you said you couldn’t cook."

"Breakfast is the sum total of my skill in the kitchen."

He sipped his coffee while she sampled each item of the breakfast she’d prepared. Only then did he indulge his own hunger and serve himself. They ate in silence.

Nicholas noticed with no small amount of surprise that Hannah had the appetite of a linebacker. For such a small woman, he wondered where she put it all. He also noted that she seemed suspiciously unruffled by his close scrutiny as she concentrated on her food. Halfway through their meal, she retrieved the pot from the coffee maker.

Nicholas clenched his fists in his lap when she approached his side of the table. Her fragrance, something light and far too alluring, teased his senses. By the sheer force of his will, he managed not to touch her as she refilled his cup.

A tremor of nervousness in her hand caused her to splash coffee on the table as she poured. Nicholas didn’t let himself react. He waited until she stepped away, then blotted the small puddle with his napkin and finished his meal, consciously quelling the urge he felt to apologize for being so rude to her.

"I haven’t had homemade preserves in years. It’s a lost art. A gift from a friend?" She smeared raspberry preserves on her toast and then took an appreciative bite.

Nicholas glanced at the jar of preserves, his thoughts on the woman who kept him well–supplied with all manner of canned fruits and vegetables. He knew the former covert field operative used the activity as a form of therapy, especially if her emotions became fragmented or her thoughts strayed back to a past that included the loss of her hearing thanks to a malfunctioning bomb.

He gave Hannah a hard look, a look designed to intimidate the recipient. "I meant it when I said you talk too much. You also ask too many questions."

She stared at him then, clearly baffled by his hostility, but he had no intention of letting up on her now.

"I’ve got someone I trust checking you out, so I suggest you sit tight in town. None of the local motels are full this time of year, so you shouldn’t have any trouble with accommodations. If you’re who you claim to be, then I’ll discuss Sean Cassidy with you. Until then, you’re persona non grata around here."

"You’re absolutely paranoid, aren’t you?"

"Careful," he warned. "Be very, very careful, Hannah Cassidy. You’re up to your ass in a situation you couldn’t possibly understand."

"Who are you?" Shock resonated in her voice.

"A man who has reached the age of forty by using his brains, not his emotions."

She shook her head. "No."

He frowned. "No?"

"No, I will not leave. In fact, I’m certain I shouldn’t leave, because you’d find a way to make it impossible for me to ever return. And if that happens, I’ll never locate Sean. No, Nicholas. I won’t risk leaving."

"This isn’t a damn debate!"

"Then stop giving me orders like some kind of… of petty tyrant! If you don’t want me in your house, fine. I’ll stay in my van. I’ve done it before."

"Absolutely not! It’s too dangerous. The forecast is lousy. Temperatures are about to drop back down below zero and stay there.  And more snow’s on the way, probably a couple of feet."

Mule–headed to the end, she announced, "I’ll take my chances."

"Damn it, woman! I don’t need you freezing to death in my driveway."

She glared at him, ignoring his derisive tone. "May I still have kitchen and bathroom privileges? I’ve got a stack of books with me that I’ve been meaning to read, so I’ll stay busy while we wait for your report."

He sprang out of his chair, too agitated to sit still any longer. "You never quit, do you? Doesn’t it matter to you that you’re trespassing?"

"Hardly! Do you really expect me to give up on a goal because I’ve temporarily inconvenienced you?" she challenged.

He moved in her direction. "I expect you to respect my privacy, which you seem to have a hard time doing."

"And I expect you to respect the fact that I cannot and will not abandon my search for my brother." Her shoulders slumped, and her fingertips strayed to her temples. Finally, she peered up at the man towering over her. "Look, we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. Couldn’t we start again with a clean slate, maybe even try to be friends?"

He ignored her hopefulness. "What about last night?" Nicholas demanded as he prowled back and forth, his long–legged stride making the huge kitchen seem small.

"What about it?" Her voice sounded faint, and her cheeks lost their rosy flush.

"There’s too damned much chemistry between us."

She gave him a prim look. "Then we’ll both have to be more… circumspect in our behavior, won’t we?"

"Circumspect?" Amazed by the drawing room quality of the word, he bellowed, "Circumspect?"

Hannah flinched, and then she nodded. "Precisely."

Nicholas muttered an ugly oath. "I cannot and will not promise to keep my hands off you. Do you want to risk a repeat performance of what happened between us last night? I guarantee that, if it does happen again, you’ll definitely end up in my bed."

She paled even more, and then she squared her shoulders. "Let’s just chalk up last night to the tensions of the moment, and forget it even happened. Easier for both us that way, don’t you think?"

Nicholas seized her and jerked her to her feet. "You don’t get it, do you?"

"Don’t shout at me!"

"Hannah…"

"And no, I don’t get it." She tried to squirm free of his hold, but her body went very still when she caught a glimpse of the expression on his face. "I also don’t understand why what happened between us even happened in the first place, unless you were just trying to shut me up. If that was the case, then next time just tell me you are tired of hearing the sound of my voice."

"You wanted me!" he gritted out.

"And I thought you wanted me!" she blazed, matching his decibel level. "But what’s the point of even discussing it? You obviously suspect me of… of… God! I don’t even know what you suspect me of. You keep treating me like some sort of deranged mass murderer." Hannah took a steadying breath. "Be reasonable, Nicholas. We’re hopelessly mismatched. You’d never become involved with someone like me. You don’t even like me. And I’m not the sort of woman who has meaningless affairs. If and when I become intimate with a man, it’s only because I’m sure it’s right for both of us and he cares enough to treat me with respect and honor."

"Containment," he muttered more to himself than to Hannah as he shifted mental gears with an agility honed to a knife’s edge during his past.

Containment was his next logical move, perhaps the only tactic that would sober Hannah sufficiently for her to grasp her current jeopardy. He heard the voice of his conscience as he studied her through narrowed eyes. Registering the bewildered look on her face, he silently acknowledged that he wanted the time to know her better while also safeguarding the lives of his friends.

Hannah gave him a wary look. "What did you just say?"

"The only way to deal with you is to contain you."

She bucked beneath his hands. "Don’t you dare try to tie me up and shove me into a closet."

He tightened his grip on her shoulders, shooting her an incredulous look. "I’m going to contain you, not terrorize you."

"You’ve already done more than enough terrorizing."

"Talking to you is like talking to a wall."

"How flattering!" Her tone of voice would have withered a lesser man.

He gave her a little shake. "Pay attention. You’re not to wander around. If you want something when I’m working, use the intercom."

She flushed. They both already knew that she had a tendency to ignore his edicts. "I will."

"I’m serious, Hannah. You could be injured if you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’ll restrict yourself to the use of the living room, the kitchen, and the guestroom. That’s it, unless I’m with you. You will not go outside unescorted. I don’t want to deal with the inconvenience of having to search for you if you get lost, or explain to the authorities why a civilian was taken out while on my land."

She stared at him. "Taken out?"

"You heard me."

"As in killed?" she squeaked.

"Now you’re getting it."

She exhaled, the sound tremulous. "Now I know how Alice must have felt."

"Alice, who?" he demanded.

"In Wonderland."

Nicholas swore.

"Colorful." After a searching look, she further shocked him when she said, "I agree to your terms, Nicholas. All of them."

"You’re out of your mind."

A faint smile lifted the edges of her lips. "Possibly."

"There’s no possibly about it."

Triumph flickered in her eyes. Nicholas didn’t miss it, but he already cared enough about her to allow her this small victory.

He exhaled a harsh breath, trying to persuade himself that having Hannah with him suited his purposes. He had the uneasy feeling that Hannah possessed the ability to bulldoze her way through any and all emotional blockades he might erect. As for the feelings she stirred within his weary heart, he knew he’d finally met his match. She fascinated, intrigued, amused, and aroused him to the point of physical anguish.

He craved a steady diet of Hannah’s spirited and passionate nature, but he wouldn’t risk putting her in danger, even if that danger had diminished over the last several years. He already knew the toll taken by a heightened state of alertness against potential threats, because he’d lived his entire adult life in that manner.

Had anyone ever cautioned him that a woman he hardly knew would touch him so deeply or make him ache with constant hunger, he would have denounced the possibility. But now, a part of him wondered what might have happened between them had he lived a less lethal life and become a different and far less wary man.

Nicholas, suddenly tired of his conflicted thoughts and their verbal sparring, said, "I am nothing if not reasonable, provided you honor your promise."

She sputtered with laughter. "Reasonable? In your dreams."

He scowled at her.

"I knew we could find a compromise," she said hurriedly.

"No compromise. My turf, my rules. I’ll get your luggage out of your van."

"I can help. There’s no need for you to…"

He jerked her against his chest, cutting her off. "I told you, Hannah. My turf, my rules." He spoke over her when she opened her mouth to argue. "Stay put. I haven’t got the time or the patience to put up with much more static from you. Do you get the picture?"

She nodded, unexpectedly subdued as he released her.

"I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do the dishes or sweep the floor if you feel inclined to pull your own weight around here."

"Neanderthal." Hannah smiled broadly as she said the word.

Nicholas smiled, too, but only after he stepped past her and strode out of the kitchen. His pleasant expression soon faded, though, thanks to his awareness that he flirted with danger and seductive temptation as long as Hannah remained in his home.

Hannah glanced up from her book as Nicholas walked into the living room. She watched as he sank down onto the couch, closed his eyes, and massaged the back of his neck.

Although she thought he looked tired, she didn’t voice the observation. She felt reluctant to disturb the delicate thirty–six hour old truce they’d managed to forge, in spite of how much she longed to quiz him about Sean.

He’d made his feelings about information sharing quite clear, limiting their time together to the silent meals they shared in the kitchen. Hannah disliked his deliberately aloof behavior, but she quelled the urge to comment on it.  She was a guest—an unwelcome guest—in his home.

Drawn to Nicholas on a variety of levels, she recognized that he’d awakened emotions within her she’d never before experienced. She’d pondered her feelings at length during the hours she’d spent alone, finally and very reluctantly concluding that he wouldn’t welcome them. It wouldn’t matter that what she felt for him was both genuine and heart–felt.

Hannah made herself behave with an out of character restraint against which she instinctively chafed. Nicholas was not a man willing to make himself emotionally vulnerable, especially not for a woman who’d intruded on his life and his privacy. She sighed, the sound very soft.

Nicholas opened his eyes. Hannah lowered her book to her lap, tucked a bookmark into it, and switched on the lamp beside her chair.

"Any word yet?"

He shook his head. Flicking a glance at the cover of her book, he frowned and then gave her a probing look.

Hannah straightened in her chair, her fingers curving protectively over the hardcover exterior of the book. "Is something wrong?"

"Not a thing. Is that yours?" Nicholas asked.

She smiled and nodded. "I noticed you have his entire collection, too. He’s one of my favorite authors." When Hannah noticed his surprise, she said, "He’s a wonderful writer. I think TENDER IS THE MERCY OF A LOVER is his best novel yet."

"You’ve read his other books?"

Her smile widened to a grin. "Every single one, and each one at least a half dozen times. The critics don’t always appreciate him, of course, but that’s their problem. I’m a bona fide fan."

Nicholas watched her as she smoothed her fingertips across the book’s cover. "Even though he probably writes for the express purpose of entertaining his readers, he always seems to go a few steps farther than most writers."

"In what way?" Nicholas asked in a subdued voice.

"Most people might consider his books straight forward action–adventure stories, but they’re also morality plays. This book is a particularly poignant story about a man who’s nearly destroyed by his life as a soldier of fortune. I’m only a few chapters into the book, and I already feel as though I’m taking a stroll across the hero’s soul."

"What about the violence?"

"It’s unsettling," she admitted, "but it fits into the broader context of the story, part and parcel of the world contained in the book. Besides, it also shines a spotlight on the violence mankind is capable of, but the author also reminds his readers that humane behavior is a matter of choice and that peace only occurs if it’s a common goal."