out of you.” Shrugging, he gave her a smile. “Anyway, I’m relieved you’re not interested in doing the story for that reporter.”
“It’s no problem. I’m not into that kind of thing.”
“You’re right about Will. He has been through enough.
He doesn’t need all the excitement a story and pictures in the newspaper would bring.”
She smiled. “Then I’m glad I told him no.”
Dylan pulled his gaze from the beautiful woman in front of him, put the reporter out of his mind and glanced around. They were in the family room. A breakfast nook and kitchen lay to the left. “Nice place. You haven’t decorated much, but it’s a very functional, open layout.”
She laughed. “No, I haven’t gotten to the decorating part yet, and I just thought the layout was cute.”
“Well, that too, but real men don’t use the word cute in reference to a house.”
Another laugh, followed by a wince. “Don’t. It hurts to be amused right now.” She settled on the couch and leaned her head back.
“You need to be resting and can’t do that if you’re hurting. Where are the pain pills the doctor prescribed? I’ll get them for you.”
“In my purse, but I can get them.”
“You just stay put, I’ll take care of it.” He grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter where it had landed after her careless toss. Walking over to the couch, he handed it to her.
“Thank you, darling.”
He jerked at the familiar term then caught the teasing glint in her eyes and the impish smile on her lips. Another flush worked its way up his neck, and he shook his head as he realized how his actions had come across. “Sorry, I don’t mean to act so …”
“Husbandly?” The word hung between them, then Paige groaned. He noted her red cheeks as she opened the purse. She said, “Okay, I obviously have brain damage. Or am in desperate need of some sleep. I’m going to take some medicine and get some rest.” He watched her cover her embarrassment by rising from the couch, and heading for the kitchen. She kicked off her shoes in the middle of the room and gave them a halfhearted shove as though to move them out of the way.
Dylan heard her rummaging in the refrigerator and thought about that word.
Husbandly.
Pain kicked him in the heart. He’d almost been a husband. And then he’d gotten custody of Will. Erica, his fiancée, had decided she didn’t want a package deal and dumped him the day Will came to live with him. The day after the fire.
He focused on Paige. “Do you need any help? Anything to eat?”
She came to the door of the kitchen looking incredibly cute—he felt fine using that word in reference to her—with her bare feet, hair around her shoulders and not a touch of makeup on. He finally noticed her height. She was about five inches shorter than his own six foot two. She offered him a water bottle and he took it.
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry right now. I’ll get something when I wake up.” Popping a little white pill in her mouth, she took a swig from her bottle and motioned him into the den area. As she headed that way, she stepped on one of her shoes and almost tripped.
Moving fast, Dylan caught her by the upper arm and pulled her against him. Water sloshed from the bottle and caught him on the chin. Wide, green eyes blinked up at him. “Oops. I’m so sorry!” She glanced at her shoes. “That’ll teach me not to pick up after myself.” A warm hand reached up and wiped the water from his chin.
Dylan swallowed hard as he found himself entranced, speechless and very aware of the warmth of her. His gaze dropped to her lips and, for a brief second, he considered seeing what she would do if he kissed her.
She caught her breath and stepped back. His arms dropped. Then Paige wiggled her fingers at him and said, “I think you need a towel. I’m not doing much good.”
Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “I’m fine.” He wiped his chin on his shirt and smiled at the flush on her cheeks. So, these feelings catching him off guard weren’t one-sided. That was good to know.
Dylan walked toward the couch. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get out of your hair so you can rest?”
Lying down and closing her eyes sounded wonderful. She’d pushed herself too hard today and was feeling the effects of it. However, Paige was determined to get some answers first—and push away the delicious feeling of being in his arms. Not that it was surprising that she’d enjoyed being there considering her instant attraction to the man. What surprised her was the desire to get to know him better on a personal level, not just in conjunction with her job.
And because of that desire, she had to tread carefully. Find out what she could about the fire and his sister, before she could even admit she was interested in him.
She had about twenty minutes before the pain pill would kick in.
“In a few minutes. Please, sit.”
He did, watching her with that concerned look on his face that made her do things she hadn’t done in a really long time. Like giggle. Really, what was up with that?
Paige told herself to focus on what he had to tell her—not the fact that he was looking better and better every minute she spent in his presence. She still had to rule him out as a suspect for the fire that had killed her friend and fellow agent.
And his sister.
But his background check had come back clean. She was here simply checking up on him as a formality. The fact that he had acted to save her life after her collision with the car, the fact that he was straight-up honest with her about his sister’s drug use and the fact that he didn’t seem to have a deceptive bone in his body had her convinced he’d had nothing to do with the fire.
But she’d press on with a few more questions and confirm her beliefs. As much as she would like to go with her gut, she needed some hard evidence that said he was innocent of any wrongdoing. Paige hated this deception, the lying to him, the constant watching of her words around him. She shoved the feeling aside.
Deception was the nature of the career she’d chosen and she’d do it well.
“So …” she settled on the other end of the couch “… what happened that night? I’d ask how Will is handling it, but I guess that’s pretty obvious.”
Grief clouded his eyes and she felt a pang of guilt for poking around memories that weren’t that old and were obviously painful. But she had to.
It was her job and she needed to find Larry’s killer. But she couldn’t help offering, “I can see the pain in your eyes. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Biting her lip, she continued her role. “But I’m going to be working with Will at school. It might help me with him if I know some of the story.” She’d prefer the whole thing, but would take what she could get for now.
Pulling in a deep breath, Dylan rubbed a hand over his eyes and said, “Whatever Will saw scared him enough—
traumatized
