Addison held a match to the gas logs and watched the flame erupt. She was chilled, inside and out, and couldn't seem to warm herself despite the thick sweater she'd pulled over her shoulders.
Randall Talbot sat at the dining room table, a large mass of male looking inordinately out of place in her tidy apartment. A lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead as he scrutinized one of the documents in the file she'd compiled during her, search for her birth parents.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a man in her apartment. Perhaps her disastrous date with the stockbroker she'd met at her shop last year. He'd been old enough to be her father and possessed the I.Q. of a teenager and the manners of an oversexed gorilla in heat. A single, rather 'unforgettable date, and she'd sworn off men indefinitely. That had been over a year ago, and she'd yet to miss them.
Tossing the spent match into the fire, she turned and contemplated her guest. He was not handsome in the conventional sense. There was a roughness in his appearance, an uncouthness in his manner, a vague restlessness in the way he moved. He was baseline male with a mouth that was too harsh and a nose as crooked as his smile. But his eyes, she decided, took command of a face that was less than perfect. They were striking, expressive pools of onyx that saw too much and divulged too little. Dangerous eyes that could slash as effortlessly as they caressed.
Remembering her initial response to him that day in his office, she felt a ripple of heat and immediately attributed it to the fire. She wasn't a sexual creature by nature. Surely it was trauma and fatigue that had her thinking of intimate caresses on such a terrible night. Randall Talbot was the last man on earth she'd ever have any interest in. Unless, of course, it was to fix her washing machine or change the oil in her car.
Addison made her way into the galley-style kitchen. It was nearly three A.M. and she was fading fast. Her hands trembled as she spooned coffee into the filter. She tried not to think about the shooting or the damage that had been done to her shop, but the images came at her out of the shadows like graphic film clips. She closed her eyes, trying to shut them out, but they continued to burst forth in her mind's eye. Brilliant images. Cold, colorless terror. The knowledge that death had all but whispered her name. She heard the sickening, tinny thud of the bullets as they penetrated the front of the bar. She saw clearly the gunman's eyes, the way he'd stared at her through the ski mask as he'd aimed the gun and fired. She'd seen murder in those eyes.
"Does this lawyer friend of yours have any more documents in his possession?"
Addison started when Randall came through the saloon doors. "Don't sneak up on me like that," she said irritably.
"Sorry." He raised the papers. "Are these all the documents you have?"
Frowning, she shoved it cup of coffee toward him. Her heart was still in her throat, and it took a moment before she could speak. "I don't know. Jim might have more information at his office, but he told me I had everything I needed."
He accepted the cup and sipped. "You got anything stronger than coffee?"
Addison stared at him, the memory of his drunkenness on the day they'd met flashing quickly through her mind. "If you're going to be working for me, I'd prefer if you didn't drink."
He choked out a laugh. "Oh, for chrissake."
"I'm serious."
"What's the matter, Ace? Worried I'll lose control and ravage your body?"
Despite the cool intensity of his gaze, she didn't look away.
"I'll let you know if I get the urge," he said.
"I don't appreciate the innuendo."
"I don't appreciate the insinuation."
"I merely asked you not to drink while you're on the job. That's not an unreasonable request, is it?"
His jaw flexed. "You think I have a drinking problem, and that pisses me off."
"I didn't say that."
"You were thinking it."
"I was thinking about how you acted that day in your office. Frankly, I'm not up to another round."
One side of his mouth curved into a humorless smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to pull a Jekyll and Hyde on you. What you see is what you get."
That was what worried her. "I have the right to know who I'm dealing with."
"I'm the man who saved your ass tonight." His eyes flashed darkly. ''That's all you need to know."
Intuition told her to back off. She stared at him a moment longer, then turned away and walked into the dining room.
Randall met her there a moment later. "Look, I'm sorry." Not meeting her gaze, he reached for his parka draped over the back of the chair. ''This isn't working out—"
"You're leaving?" To her utter dismay, and for the first time in her adult life, she was afraid to be alone.
"No hard feelings. I was out of line just now. Bad habit of mine. If you still want someone to look into this for you, I'll have Jack call—”
"I don't want Jack."
"Don't let the wheelchair fool you—”
"The wheelchair doesn't matter."
"He's good at what he does."