“I’m on my guard now,” she said. “They won’t surprise me again."
He studied a piece of roll, undoubtedly assessing the butter to bread ratio. “That’s the sort of conceit that’ll get you killed.”
Ada swallowed around the sharp edge of fear lining her throat. “I assure you, I have a healthy fear of whoever is after me.”
“I know.”
“Then where did this come from all of a sudden?” she asked, although she thought she knew.
He was afraid.
Something had happened in that detective’s office. She hadn’t known him long, but she doubted fear was an emotion Edison Sweet experienced often.
Something about the police station had triggered a profound reaction in him. A reaction that had nothing to do with her situation.
Not that he’d admit it.
She studied her untouched food. Poking at his fear seemed unnecessarily cruel.
He wasn’t trying to dismiss her. His brain was still swirling with the after effects of his own poisonous emotions.
It was quite logical.
And highly infuriating.
He held the buttered bread up between, considering his masterpiece from every angle. “It doesn’t matter,” he responded finally. “It’s for the best.”
“As you see it.”
“As anyone with a crumb of common sense would see it.” He dabbed the roll in last of his fish sauce and chewed.
Ada pushed her plate away. She was trying to remain calm, but the more the man spoke, the more he fed her urge to hurl a glass of water in his face.
All around them, other people were having civil—even enjoyable—conversations. The clink of silverware against porcelain set a cheerful beat for the rise and fall of voices, punctuated by staccato bursts of laughter.
At every table but theirs.
Ada glared at Edison, who was so unperturbed he’d managed to tuck away his entire meal already, sublimely ignorant of the fact that he was toying with her life.
He’d even managed to ruin what should have been a memorable meal, sod him. Too angry to bother with manners, Ada planted her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her hand.
The cafe was lovely. Bright brass railings sparkled in the afternoon light, adding an air of excitement to the bustling space. The smells coming from the kitchen had made her mouth water from the instant Edison opened the door.
She’d been looking forward to the unexpected pleasure of dining with a handsome man. A man still young enough to eat what he wished with a gusto Harrison had abandoned long before they wed.
It wasn’t an experience she was likely to have often, and now he’d ruined it.
Again, the waiter glided up to the table. “May I bring tea?”
“No,” Ada growled.
“Yes.” Edison contradicted her.
“I’ll give you a moment.” Clearly wise in the way of squabbling diners, the waiter backed away, his face carefully blank.
Edison threw his napkin down next to his empty plate. He folded his arms across his chest and focussed his considerable will in her direction.
Ada glared back. “Stare all you wish. I’m not leaving.”
The look of pity that turned down the edges of his beautiful lips made her stomach clench. He opened his mouth, then quickly closed it. He ran a hand over his face. The space between them was so small she could hear the rasp of his palm over a morning’s stubble.
Then he let out a great sigh and planted his own elbows on the tabletop. “I don’t know how to say this nicely.” Though his voice was low, it carried a concerning intensity. “You’re in my way.”
Ada blinked, forcing herself to remain rigid, to hide the shock of his words. He might as well have slapped her.
“I see.” Her cheeks blazed as if hot tears already scored them.
She looked away. A woman swathed in mahogany silk caressed the unruly curls of the small boy seated next to her. Her radiant, mother’s smile stabbed Ada in the chest.
She had no children. No family to speak of.
She had accomplishments. She had scientific discoveries that would enrich lives. Save lives, she hoped.
Competent as Edison and his league might be, she would not abandon her own fight. Whoever thought they could steal her device and erase her most masterful accomplishment would have to contend with her.
Including Mr. Edison Sweet.
“That may well be the case, but it’s my life. My discovery. My decision.”
He sat back, arms folded across his chest. “Not if you want my help.”
And there it was. The terms she was hoping she wouldn’t have to accept.
Her lips tightened around the fateful words. “Maybe I don’t.”
His mouth dropped open. “But you already hired me.”
“I did no such thing!”
“You did. At breakfast with your grandmother. You agreed I could protect you until the battery was safely delivered.”
Now it was her turn to gape. She had indeed said exactly that.
Edison grinned like a small boy and tapped a forefinger on the table. “It’s not delivered.”
“The situation has changed.” Ada stared out at the shoppers strolling back and forth past the window. “Our methods are no longer compatible.”
Edison seemed to grow taller, larger, more intimidating. “I never quit.”
Ada raised her chin. “Nor do I.”
“You’ll slow me down.”
“How so?”
“Without you on my heels, I won’t have to hide.” His smile was more triumphant than sympathetic. “No one’s after me.”
Ada squeezed her eyes shut. He did have her there. But this wasn’t about logic. For once, it was about pride. Simple pride.
The thought of facing men such as those kidnappers scared her silly, but the thought of retreating, of allowing others to finish this for her, scared her even more. She inched the salt shaker into line with the pepper and the sugar bowl. “You are free to go your own way, Mr. Sweet.”
Edison gestured helplessly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You misspoke then?” Ada stared down at the crystal sugar bowl, willing him to agree.
For an instant that same haunting vulnerability she’d seen in the police station transformed his face. He paled, swallowing hard, as if trying to choke down a stone.
His finger set up a furious beat on the edge of the table. “He almost got you once.” The tapping ceased as his fingers curled into a fist. “I can’t have that on my conscience.”
Nothing else could have come so close to persuading her to obey him. But it wasn’t enough. “I’m my own woman.”
She couldn’t find the words to make him understand how very much that mattered.
Her gaze moved back to the small boy and his smiling mother.
“I can’t go.” She stared down at her plate, afraid to see his expression. It would either bring her to tears, or make her want to throttle him.
“This is my life,” she continued. “My discoveries are all I have. They’re worth fighting for.”
Not a sound came from his side of the table. Ada risked a look.
Eyes on his empty plate, mouth pressed into a tight line, he appeared to be thinking. Either that, or he was formulating a way to tell her she could take her stubborn pride and sod off.