on her arm, he stopped her at the door. “Maybe you should stay put for just a few more minutes, Miss Dupinsky.”
Again her brown eyes flashed. “Are you a doctor, Mr. Buchanan?”
“No.”
“A lawyer?”
“God, no.”
She smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. We’ve established that you have no medical or legal basis for your opinion. What I am is tired and now I have a headache. What I could use is a place to clean up and some coffee to wash down an aspirin or two.”
“I passed a coffeehouse on my way in here.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s after six now, they should be open.”
“I know the place. They’re open twenty-four/seven, so I’ll be on my way and you can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before you became a bystander.”
She was dismissing him, politely but firmly. Trouble was, he wasn’t in the mood to be dismissed. Somehow he’d pushed his fatigue back and his headache had ebbed enough for him to want to see where this chance encounter led if only for the next hour. Then he’d have to get some sleep so he could be back here looking at videos by noon. He was here to find Alec. But pragmatically speaking, he had to eat. And while he ate, he could decide what he wanted to do next about this woman who set his skin on fire with a simple touch. “I’d finished my business here for now. I was just leaving when I heard you scream.”
“That wasn’t me.” It seemed a point of pride. “It was her.” Then her eyes softened and his heart took a slow roll in his chest. “Thank you for helping me, Mr. Buchanan. Not many strangers would take the time to be a Good Samaritan these days.”
“You did. So did I.” He paused, let the simple statement sink in before adding, “My next stop was going to be to get breakfast at that very coffee shop.”
She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t mean to be rude, but while I really do appreciate your help, I’m not interested in any relationships. I don’t want to lead you on.”
Ethan felt some sympathy for the women who’d approached him over recent months. If he was a fraction as dismissive as Dana was, he’d probably hurt quite a few female egos. His might have been bruised as well if he hadn’t seen that she’d been as affected by that brief physical contact as he. “I didn’t ask you to marry me, Miss Dupinsky.” Her eyes widened at his bluntness and he shrugged. “At this moment all I want to do is to eat breakfast and make sure you don’t have a concussion. If I can do both at the same time, that’s a good use of my time.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t have a concussion,” she said tightly.
“Are you a doctor?” he asked, injecting mild humor into his voice.
She opened her eyes and regarded him levelly. “No. I’m not.”
“Then how do you know you don’t? Are you hungry?” he added before she could come back with another put-off.
She huffed a very tired, almost mirthless chuckle. “I could eat.”
“Then when the security guard gets back, we’ll go have some breakfast.”
Chicago, Sunday, August 1, 6:15 A.M.
Dana closed the coffee shop’s bathroom door and leaned back against the painted plywood. Her head hurt, a dull throbbing pain, but she was lucky.
She’d been standing in the shadows waiting for the woman who was supposed to have come Thursday night, about ready to go home. It had been risky to venture out alone when Mia had told her to be careful, but she wouldn’t have told the woman not to come even if she had known how to contact her, which she did not. She’d considered calling David, but in the end decided against it. The women she met distrusted men. Even a gentle man like David Hunter would send them running away.
So she’d gone herself and stood there, nervous at every noise, carefully watching every face, waiting. She’d turned to leave when she saw the young man approach the old woman, a crazed light in his eyes with which she was
Again her brown eyes flashed. “Are you a doctor, Mr. Buchanan?”
“No.”
“A lawyer?”
“God, no.”
She smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. We’ve established that you have no medical or legal basis for your opinion. What I am is tired and now I have a headache. What I could use is a place to clean up and some coffee to wash down an aspirin or two.”
“I passed a coffeehouse on my way in here.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s after six now, they should be open.”
“I know the place. They’re open twenty-four/seven, so I’ll be on my way and you can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before you became a bystander.”
She was dismissing him, politely but firmly. Trouble was, he wasn’t in the mood to be dismissed. Somehow he’d pushed his fatigue back and his headache had ebbed enough for him to want to see where this chance encounter led if only for the next hour. Then he’d have to get some sleep so he could be back here looking at videos by noon. He was here to find Alec. But pragmatically speaking, he had to eat. And while he ate, he could decide what he wanted to do next about this woman who set his skin on fire with a simple touch. “I’d finished my business here for now. I was just leaving when I heard you scream.”
“That wasn’t me.” It seemed a point of pride. “It was her.” Then her eyes softened and his heart took a slow roll in his chest. “Thank you for helping me, Mr. Buchanan. Not many strangers would take the time to be a Good Samaritan these days.”
“You did. So did I.” He paused, let the simple statement sink in before adding, “My next stop was going to be to get breakfast at that very coffee shop.”
She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t mean to be rude, but while I really do appreciate your help, I’m not interested in any relationships. I don’t want to lead you on.”
Ethan felt some sympathy for the women who’d approached him over recent months. If he was a fraction as dismissive as Dana was, he’d probably hurt quite a few female egos. His might have been bruised as well if he hadn’t seen that she’d been as affected by that brief physical contact as he. “I didn’t ask you to marry me, Miss Dupinsky.” Her eyes widened at his bluntness and he shrugged. “At this moment all I want to do is to eat breakfast and make sure you don’t have a concussion. If I can do both at the same time, that’s a good use of my time.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t have a concussion,” she said tightly.
“Are you a doctor?” he asked, injecting mild humor into his voice.
She opened her eyes and regarded him levelly. “No. I’m not.”
“Then how do you know you don’t? Are you hungry?” he added before she could come back with another put-off.
She huffed a very tired, almost mirthless chuckle. “I could eat.”
“Then when the security guard gets back, we’ll go have some breakfast.”
Chicago, Sunday, August 1, 6:15 A.M.
Dana closed the coffee shop’s bathroom door and leaned back against the painted plywood. Her head hurt, a dull throbbing pain, but she was lucky.
She’d been standing in the shadows waiting for the woman who was supposed to have come Thursday night, about ready to go home. It had been risky to venture out alone when Mia had told her to be careful, but she wouldn’t have told the woman not to come even if she had known how to contact her, which she did not. She’d considered calling David, but in the end decided against it. The women she met distrusted men. Even a gentle man like David Hunter would send them running away.
So she’d gone herself and stood there, nervous at every noise, carefully watching every face, waiting. She’d turned to leave when she saw the young man approach the old woman, a crazed light in his eyes with which she was
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