Page 9 of Mr. Dangerous

"Short attention span, Iguess."

“I guess Iknewthat.”

Well. That soundedbarbed.

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the cool granite. “What exactly does that mean,NaomiAnne?”

“Nothing,”shesaid.

God, I wanted to pull her over my lap right here and smack that perfect ass of hers until she told me thetruth.

Instead, I said, "You know, I was thinking about going to see Joe. YourememberJoe?"

"Yes, I remember Joe. Speaking of. How'syourDad?"

"Fine," I said. Maybe it didn't come across as smoothly as I meant it too, because she turned, her dark eyebrows arching up curiously. Before she could ask me a question I wouldn’t answer, I told her, "You have very expressiveeyebrows."

"I don't know what to say to that," she said. "Thanks? Your eyebrows also have a lot offeelings?"

I popped another cherry into my mouth. "Thanks for making mebreakfast."

"No problem. It's in the job description." She flipped the omelet expertly. "I remember as a kid, pouring myself a bowl of Cheerios before school, knowing my mom was already at your house making you all eggs andpancakes."

"And bacon," I said. "Always bacon. Is that why you hate me? Because you had to eatCheerios?"

"I don'thateyou."

"It really seems like youhateme."

She returned to the island for the spinach and cheese. "I promise, if I hated you, you'dknowit."

She looked up. Her hazel eyes were intent, and with the morning sunshine filtering into the kitchen they looked unearthly, amber and gold. For long seconds, the tension between us seemed to shimmer. Part of me was tempted to lean over andkissher.

Naomi returned to the stove. "There's nothing about you to hate," she said, her voice light again. "As my sister pointed out, you're gorgeous, rich, a SEAL. On paper, you'reperfect."

"On paper. Just curious. Do you have a boyfriend?Husband?"

She held up her scarred left hand. "Didn't you do a thorough analysis of this handyesterday?"

"You never know. You might not wearyourring."

"I'd wear it if I had it,"shesaid.

I had thought she was single, but still, her reactions had made me wonder. I had to wonder if she was so prickly because she was afraid ofgettinghurt.

That sucked. But if she was gun-shy about a man like me, she was probably right. I was a fun date, a gentleman, pretty damn good in bed. But I wasn't themarryingtype.

Her cell phone rang. She tucked the phone under her chin, smiling apologetically, and carried on her conversation while she eased the omelet out of the pan with aspatula.

“I thought you guaranteed the venue." She looked stricken, her lips parting. "I understand you're doing us a big favor, but the date's already set. I wascounting..."

Her brow furrowed as she listened to the rapid-fire speaker on the other end. Naomi's voice was controlled but irritated when she cut back in. “I have a business myself, but when you say you're going to do something, you should… oh, youhungup.”

She dropped the phone on the counter, her mouth down-turned, and slid the omelet across the island. "There. I'm going to get startedcleaning."

I cut the omelet in half and pushed the plate back towards her, nodding at it. “What’swrong?”

She shook her head. Rejecting the omelet. Rejecting my help. Rejecting me. She headed for the doorway, intent onstartingwork.

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