could just open the doors…”
A sharp click was followed by one of the doors opening slowly. Looking up, she found herself face to face with a very large, steel-jawed man with a suspicious look in his green eyes.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked abruptly.
Abby stiffened and her eyes narrowed. She’d been ready to be grateful. Honest she had. She’d been ready to smile and thank her rescuer with all her heart.
But there was something about the way he looked at her and the suspicious tone in his voice that set her off. She’d been through a lot in the last fifteen minutes, even if it was mostly in her own head. A little sympathetic treatment would have been just the thing. Instead, she got skepticism. Frustrated, and feeling awfully defensive, she reacted a little hastily to his obvious distrust.
“Who, me?” she said, knowing she sounded flippant but not caring very much. “Checking for termites, of course. I always lock myself in closets so I can catch the little buggers unaware.”
“Really.” He wasn’t moving aside and he filled the opening. His icy green eyes had a penetrating intensity. She felt, for a second or two, as if she was being X-rayed. “Find any?”
Her chin rose. “Not yet.” She knew she should smile right now. It was time to make friends, not war.
You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Abby. The phrase in her mother’s voice echoed in her head, but there was something so annoying about the way this man had jumped to the conclusion that she was up to no good, she just couldn’t make use of it.
“I have found evidence of other pests, however,” she said pointedly, flashing him a look. “I’m hoping I won’t have to call an exterminator.”
To his credit, one corner of his wide mouth quirked with the tiniest sign of amusement at her jibe.
“So you actually belong here?” he asked, still looking skeptical.
“You thought I was looting the place and got caught in the closet?” She resisted rolling her eyes, though she felt like doing it. “Sorry to disappoint you. I work here.”
“Do you?” He paused just long enough to increase her fury. “I was at the ribbon-cutting ceremony last month. Dr. Richie was there. Along with all the counselors and administrators of the clinic and even a few from the hospital.” He raised one dark, sleek eyebrow. “I didn’t see you there.”
She pursed her lips, wondering what he’d do if she just let go and launched herself at his throat. “It would have been pretty strange if you’d seen me there. I didn’t attend. I was out of town.”
“Ah.”
He didn’t believe her? What was he, a security guard she hadn’t run across in her few weeks working here? If so, maybe they needed a seminar on employee-to-employee relations.
“So now you’ve decided I’m a burglar?”
“I don’t know what you are. I’m just wondering why you’re in this closet.”
She’d had enough of this. If he wasn’t going to move, she was going to have to scrunch past him. Setting her jaw, she did just that and looked up defiantly.
“I’m not in it anymore. Happy?”
He turned, following her progress across the office, and she had second thoughts. Didn’t security guards usually wear uniforms, or at least a badge of some sort? He didn’t have either. And if he worked here, he should know about her. Shouldn’t he?
Reaching out, she grabbed the brass nameplate from her desk and held it up for him to see.
“This is me. Abby Edwards. Public Relations. And this is my office.” She set the plate back down and fixed him with a stare, folding her arms across her chest. “Can I help you with something?”
He shrugged, jamming his hands down into the pockets of his jacket and looking her over in a way she found particularly insolent.
“What exactly were you doing in there?” he asked, giving the closet a quick scan before looking back at her. “Besides the termites, I mean.”
She met his gaze levelly, but she had a moment of unease. Could he possibly be someone in the chain of command here at the clinic—someone she should be treating like a boss? But no. It seemed unlikely. He just didn’t have the right look. She could relax and give as good as she got.
“Hmm. Just what was I doing in that supply closet?” She pretended to think it over for half a second. “I’d say it was pretty obvious to anyone who was paying attention. Dealing with supplies would have been my first choice. Still, others may differ.”
“These supplies?” He indicated the piles stacked around the edge of the office. “That’s a lot of stuff to move.” He looked at her assessingly. “Tell you what. I’ll help you.”
She frowned. What the heck was this guy’s game, anyway? He’d come out of nowhere and now he wanted to help. If he was so suspicious of her, maybe she ought to return the favor.
“Wait a minute. Who are you exactly?”
He hesitated, then held out his hand. “Name’s Daniel O’Callahan,” he said shortly. “Nice to meet you, Abby Edwards.”
She glanced at his hand. It looked strong and tanned, the fingers long and tapered, the nails neat and even. For a split second, she considered refusing to shake hands with him. But she knew immediately that would be a mistake. Hey, she was supposed to be spreading good feeling, not making enemies. Gritting her teeth, she put her slender hand in his and felt a jolt as his warmth enveloped her.
She pulled her hand back a little too quickly and immediately regretted it when she saw the glint of humor in his eyes. Now he was laughing at her. This was possibly the most infuriating man she’d ever dealt with in her life.
“You still haven’t explained what you are doing here,” she said sharply.
“Haven’t I?” He grinned at her, going into a casual slouch that showed how very relaxed he was. By now his body language was telling her that he was completely at home and obviously feeling in control of things.
“No, you haven’t. Why don’t you tell me what you want and I’ll try to direct you to the office where they can help you.” There you go. Maybe she could get rid of him.
“What do most people who come to this clinic want?” he countered.
“To improve their lives,” she said promptly. “To attain a natural state of well-being through nutritional counseling, a fitness regimen and self-awareness instruction.”
He shrugged. “Count me in.”
She studied him for a long moment, glanced at the tight, narrow set of his hips, the thigh muscles that bulged beneath the fabric of his slacks, then back at the cocky set of his shoulders and head.
Nope. She just wasn’t buying it.
Of course, it was conceivable that the look of fitness and assurance was just a facade. Perhaps beneath that cocky exterior lay a hidden
