Donovan's Child. Christine Rimmer
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Had he ever once been kind to her before?
Not that she recalled. And Donovan McRae being kind … that was something she would definitely have remembered.
She pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks, murmured softly, “It’s … kind of you, to say that.”
“Not kind,” he answered gruffly. “It’s only the simple truth.”
A weak laugh escaped her. “You just can’t stand it, can you? To have someone call you kind?”
“Because I’m not kind. I’m a hardheaded SOB with absolutely no consideration for anyone but myself. We both know that.”
She closed her eyes, pressed her fingertips against her shut eyelids and wished she could quit thinking about the things Ben had said last night—about how she had a thing for Donovan. About how, if she had questions for Donovan, she should gut up and ask them of the man himself.
Well, she absolutely did not have a thing for Donovan. Not in the way Ben had meant. She was only … intrigued by him. She was curious about him.
And yes, she wanted to help him get past whatever was eating at him, whatever had made him turn his back on his own life.
Was that so wrong?
He was watching her. Way too closely. “All right.” He pulled a very clever sort of wheelie maneuver, leaning back in the chair, so the wheels lifted a fraction, turning while the wheels were lifted, and then rolling the chair backward until he was sitting beside her at the drafting table. “What terrifying thoughts are racing through that mind of yours?” He almost sounded … friendly.
So she told him. “I think you need someone to talk to.”
“About what?”
“About … all the stuff that’s bothering you. I think you need to see a trained professional.”
He craned away from her in the chair. “A psychiatrist. You think I need a shrink.”
“I do. Yes.”
“No.”
“Just like that?” She raised a hand and snapped her fingers. “No?”
“That’s right. Just like that.”
“Donovan, you’re a very intelligent man. You have to know that there’s no shame in seeking help.”
“I didn’t say there was shame in it. I only said no. And since I am perfectly sane and a danger to no one, I have that right. I’m allowed to say no.”
“It’s not about being sane. I know you’re sane.”
“That’s a relief.” He pretended to wipe sweat off his brow.
“I just thought that if you could talk it out with a professional, if you could—”
“I’ll say it once more, since you have a bad habit of not listening when I say things the first time. No.”
She could see she was getting nowhere on the shrink front. So she moved on to the next issue. “Then how about this? Will you go into Chula Mesa with me some evening?”
He actually groaned. “Didn’t I make it clear two weeks ago that I was not going to Chula Mesa—with you, or otherwise?”
“You could rethink that. You could change your mind. People do that, you know, change their minds?”
“Abilene. Have you ever been in Chula Mesa?”
“Well, besides driving through it, no, I haven’t.”
“I’ve been in Chula Mesa. I’ve seen it all, been there. Done that. I don’t need to go there again.”
“Just … think about it. Please.”
“I fail to understand what a visit to Chula Mesa could possibly accomplish.”
“We’ll get out of the house, see other people, broaden our horizons a little.”
“If I wanted a broader horizon, I wouldn’t look for it in Chula Mesa.”
She was becoming irritated with him again. “You really should stop saying mean things about Chula Mesa.”
“I will be only too happy to. As soon as you stop trying to drag me there.”
“I’ll leave it alone for now, okay? I’ll bring it up again later.”
“Why is it I don’t find that comforting in the least?”
She still had a thousand unanswered questions for him. “One more thing …”
“With you, it’s never just one more thing.”
“Tell me about what happened, on that mountain, when you broke both your legs.”
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