Danica pressed her eyes shut momentarily. She couldn’t tell him all of it. Never, not once, had she told anyone the truth about what that man had done to her, so she bit her tongue, holding her silence.
“I can’t take action if I don’t have answers.” He pushed on, giving her the chance to speak. “All you have to do istellme what’s really going on.”
Danica opened her eyes and shook her head as she counted the threads on the carpet beneath her socked feet. She was too ashamed to look up and face Carrick.
Changing the tone, he shifted his weight and leaned against the wall with her. As she looked through the top of her lashes, she realized he was focused on the painting behind her in the foyer, observing and considering. She turned toward the complex piece of artwork with its bright, vivid colors that loosely depicted a perfect female form wrapped in bright green vines.
“That’s stunning.”
“Thanks.” Danica looked back up into Carrick’s stormy eyes and tried to breathe.
He raised an eyebrow. He was clearly intrigued. “You painted that?”
“Yes,” she replied softly, shier than ever. “The foyer needed some life.”
“You’re talented…very talented.” Carrick nodded approvingly, looking back and forth between the nude female form and Danica.
A hot flush hit her cheeks, and it wasn’t just from coming into a warm building from the cold night.
“She looks imprisoned by those vines. Is that the case?” His gaze shot to her more intensely.
He was analyzing her, looking for the deeper meaning. And he was right, so she nodded. As he cocked his head, further studying what she’d painted, Danica couldn’t help but explain.
“The natural world plays a big part in my life.”
“There’s much more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?” he asked quietly, in a low, smooth voice. “I like that.”
She shivered as his words spilled over her. He saw her. He was seeing her. The look in his eye continued to reveal a curious man, interested in learning all her secrets. And she so wanted to confide in him—the first person who had ever made her feel like that in a long, long time.
Looking at one of the doors to the rental units in the hall, right behind where she stood, he continued, “And you live with someone?”
“Yes, my friend.” Her gaze flitted to her locked apartment door, which opened to a staircase leading up to her flat. She could never let him in. Never.
Even so, words continued to pour out against her will. “She’s out for the night. It’s… Valentine’s Day, after all.”
She clamped down on her tongue after she’d said it, regretting whatever it suggested. She was being an idiot. What would he think? She needed to stop…
“And what about you?” He leaned back, continuing to assess. The deep baritone of his questions—his apparent need to understand—planted something inside her that felt like a hot coil. “No boyfriend?”
“Are you really asking me that?”
He smirked, leaning a little closer. “Maybe.”
“I don’t date,” she squeaked out, embarrassed at the truth. She looked down at her shoeless feet, frumpy and unpolished.
“You don’t…date?” He laughed genuinely, natural and smooth. He had a rich, warm, hearty laugh, as he continued his questioning. “You mean to tell me thatyoudon’t date?”
The concept apparently seemed unbelievable to him, and he appeared highly amused.
She stood still, frozen.
“You must be delusional,” Carrick concluded, shaking his head. “Or deeply religious—or both.”
She crossed her arms tightly, trying to steady herself.
“Look… I think we should talk about what you are planning on doing now that you’ve found me. That’s what matters here—not whether or not I’m dating.”
He drew his teeth across his lip, something dangerous twinkling in his eye, as he looked her up and down slowly for the hundredth time. He reached out his thick hand and tilted her chin up toward him. He was still close to her and she was aware of his warm breath and his heat. Against her better judgment, she let her eyes connect with his and sink into his intensity. And she obediently tilted her chin up to match his great height.