He snapped his fingers, and she blinked. “Like that. You look at me transfixed.”
She didn’t know that. She would have to think about it. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said out loud.
He turned back to her wind chime and flicked a finger against one of the hanging wands. It swayed inward, clinking the middle wand softly. The room echoed with the melodic notes. “So what do you see?” he asked, his eyes still on her chime. “With those writer’s eyes?”
A skilled operative always asked the right questions. Nikki never doubted Rick’s ability to get to the truth. He had refined this skill to perfection for years, just to protect himself from being cornered. She had never intended to hide everything from him, anyway. After all, she needed his full cooperation to complete her contract.
She was glad he stood across the room. The distance tookaway some of the tension between them that was so palpable when he was close. With his finger, he stilled the swaying wands of the chime, stopping the musical clanging, but she could still feel the room humming with the vibrations.
He touched her things. She explored his secrets. He asked indirect questions. She looked for hidden answers. Balance.
“I see details no one else does,” she answered.
“And do you use these details in your books?”
“Some.”
Abruptly he moved away from her chime and gave her his fullest attention. The bed between them, folded back in invitation. Her chimes and the center of the universe. Nikki held her breath and hoped it was only she who saw these details and not the man who affected her so strangely. Sometimes she couldn’t decide if it was her wild imagination that brought up these things that seemed to fit together.
“You piece together these details,” Rick continued as he walked slowly around the bed, “and what was it you said you do? Oh yes, you suggest ‘corrections to what is out of balance.’ And this is all connected with your stories .”
He put the emphasis on the last word, a touch of mockery in his voice. Nikki could deal with that. Mockery was easily deflected, unlike her attraction to him.
“It is my job description,” she said gravely.
He stopped about five feet away, close enough for her to see the distrust in his eyes, and far enough for her to feel safe. “Tell me more,” he invited, in a deceptively soft voice. “After all, I seem to be a subject of interest in your research. What was it you said to Agent Jones, that you’re trying to figure out a man who is always running from his past? Tell me, what are the details you were trying to pick up on that jogging trail this morning? Or is that part of your balance act?”
She had poked at the embers to spark a flame, so she shouldn’t be afraid of getting burned now. “Mr. Harden,” she began, and his brows lifted slightly at the formality. “My method of research is considered controversial, at best, and‘out there,’ at worst. Believe me, I can take any insults you’re going to hurl in my direction because I’ve heard them all before.”
“I haven’t started hurling anything yet. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re trying to research and who you’re after.” He smiled for the first time, a humorless curve of those uncompromising lips that brought a startling change to his face. He appeared younger, the lines bracketing his mouth relaxing his usual rigidly controlled facial expression. “Just in case I have it all wrong, of course, but a romance writer shouldn’t be so knowledgeable about TIARA and how it works.”
“If I tell you that you will know soon, would you leave it at that?”
Her query was followed by a pause. “It depends.” He took several steps toward her.
Nikki dug her hands into her bathrobe pockets, willing herself not to retreat. She knew now that he was testing her, seeing what made her tick. He was just as interested in digging deeper as she was. “On?” she asked instead, forced
She didn’t know that. She would have to think about it. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said out loud.
He turned back to her wind chime and flicked a finger against one of the hanging wands. It swayed inward, clinking the middle wand softly. The room echoed with the melodic notes. “So what do you see?” he asked, his eyes still on her chime. “With those writer’s eyes?”
A skilled operative always asked the right questions. Nikki never doubted Rick’s ability to get to the truth. He had refined this skill to perfection for years, just to protect himself from being cornered. She had never intended to hide everything from him, anyway. After all, she needed his full cooperation to complete her contract.
She was glad he stood across the room. The distance tookaway some of the tension between them that was so palpable when he was close. With his finger, he stilled the swaying wands of the chime, stopping the musical clanging, but she could still feel the room humming with the vibrations.
He touched her things. She explored his secrets. He asked indirect questions. She looked for hidden answers. Balance.
“I see details no one else does,” she answered.
“And do you use these details in your books?”
“Some.”
Abruptly he moved away from her chime and gave her his fullest attention. The bed between them, folded back in invitation. Her chimes and the center of the universe. Nikki held her breath and hoped it was only she who saw these details and not the man who affected her so strangely. Sometimes she couldn’t decide if it was her wild imagination that brought up these things that seemed to fit together.
“You piece together these details,” Rick continued as he walked slowly around the bed, “and what was it you said you do? Oh yes, you suggest ‘corrections to what is out of balance.’ And this is all connected with your stories .”
He put the emphasis on the last word, a touch of mockery in his voice. Nikki could deal with that. Mockery was easily deflected, unlike her attraction to him.
“It is my job description,” she said gravely.
He stopped about five feet away, close enough for her to see the distrust in his eyes, and far enough for her to feel safe. “Tell me more,” he invited, in a deceptively soft voice. “After all, I seem to be a subject of interest in your research. What was it you said to Agent Jones, that you’re trying to figure out a man who is always running from his past? Tell me, what are the details you were trying to pick up on that jogging trail this morning? Or is that part of your balance act?”
She had poked at the embers to spark a flame, so she shouldn’t be afraid of getting burned now. “Mr. Harden,” she began, and his brows lifted slightly at the formality. “My method of research is considered controversial, at best, and‘out there,’ at worst. Believe me, I can take any insults you’re going to hurl in my direction because I’ve heard them all before.”
“I haven’t started hurling anything yet. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re trying to research and who you’re after.” He smiled for the first time, a humorless curve of those uncompromising lips that brought a startling change to his face. He appeared younger, the lines bracketing his mouth relaxing his usual rigidly controlled facial expression. “Just in case I have it all wrong, of course, but a romance writer shouldn’t be so knowledgeable about TIARA and how it works.”
“If I tell you that you will know soon, would you leave it at that?”
Her query was followed by a pause. “It depends.” He took several steps toward her.
Nikki dug her hands into her bathrobe pockets, willing herself not to retreat. She knew now that he was testing her, seeing what made her tick. He was just as interested in digging deeper as she was. “On?” she asked instead, forced
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