Chapter Eight
Phoebe was still asleep when Donovan slipped from the bed. When she was stirred awake by the sound of the shower she was tempted to join him but couldn’t find the energy. A few minutes later, she sleepily watched him as he padded across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, she ran her fingers down his arm.
“You’re so strong,” she murmured.
“Martial arts,” he murmured with a smile. “I wish I could stay but I need to make some calls. Feel free to wander around the house. When I’m done I’ll make us something to eat.”
With a yawn she sat up and rested her head against his shoulder, and slowly moved her hand to his crotch.
“Can’t you join me for just a few minutes,” she whispered.
“Don’t I wish. Sadly, I really do have to go.”
As he rose to his feet and left the room, she wondered what miracle had brought them together, and though she still had a million unanswered questions, he had captivated her. Slipping from the bed and ambling into the bathroom, she moved into the shower, thinking she’d either just won lotto, or surrendering to him was the biggest mistake of her life. She took her time, letting the hot water revive her, then finally stepping out, she combed out her wet hair, dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater, and headed off to explore the luxurious mountain home.
What she found was impressive.
Every room was exquisitely decorated, but her favorite was a masculine den. It boasted coffered ceilings, wood paneled walls featuring western themed oil paintings, and brown leather chairs grouped in front of a natural rock fireplace. As she continued to wander through the surprisingly large house, she came across a large jade figurine of a fire-breathing dragon.
“That’s one of my favorite pieces,” he remarked as he joined her.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I have a few pieces. I’m a collector.”
“Really? Of Jade?”
“Among other things,” he said with a wink. “I hope you’re hungry. I’ve made a cheese and tomato French omelet with rosemary potatoes.”
“You cook as well?”
“I thought I’d mentioned that. Yeah, I enjoy it.”
“Aren’t you just full of surprises.”
Shooting her a wink, he took her hand and started leading her down the hall. Feeling as if she was almost under a spell, she walked with him through the formal dining room and into the gourmet kitchen.
“Sit here,” he said, leading her to a table next to a window overlooking a natural wood patio with a hot tub. But she barely glanced at the view. She was more interested in him. He was opening an eye-level oven door and removing two plates with stainless steel covers.
“What started out as a nightmare has turned into a fun dream. I just hope I never wake up,” she declared as he set a dish in front of her and lifted the cloche. “Thanks, it smells delicious.”
”It should be,” he replied, returning to the counter and picking up a carafe of coffee.
“Because…?”
“Because food after great sex always is,” he replied with a wink. “Now eat before it gets cold.”
She laughed as he poured the coffee, then took a bite of the omelet.
“You must be right. This is fantastic, but, Donovan, those paintings in the den…”
“Are you an art lover?”
“You’re very observant.”
“So…tell me.”
“Very much so. I used to dream of working in one of the great galleries in Europe. I even have a degree in art history.”
“Why didn’t you end up there?”
“Finding a job is really difficult. Impossible, actually. Nursing was my second choice. But where did you find such fantastic pieces?”
He didn’t respond, but she noticed the hint of a frown cross his forehead.
“Donovan? Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
She chose not to push, and he chatted about the wildlife in the forest as they devoured the delicious omelette, but as they drank the smooth, rich coffee, his frown returned.
“Phoebe, we need to talk,” he abruptly exclaimed. “This is all too coincidental.”
“What is?”
“You!” he exclaimed. “How you showed up out of the blue in a deserted back street just as those thugs threw me out of that van. It was the middle of the night in torrential rain. Not to mention risking your neck to rescue me then taking me to your home. And now you claim to share my passion for art.”
A chill pricked her skin.
“Donovan, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but—“
“But nothing. Who are you?” he demanded gruffly, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward. “Who do you work for?”
“I…uh…I work in the trauma center at Methodist General Hospital,” she stammered. “And you know my name. It’s Phoebe Beaumont. Who do you think I am?”
“Those facts may be true, but you’d better start talking. Who approached you? What did they promise you? Tell me, Phoebe, and tell me now.”
“What the hell, Donovan? Why don’t you tell me who you are? You were attacked by two thugs, but you fought them off. Where did you learn how to defend yourself like that?”
“I told you, martial arts.”
“Okay, but why were you in that creepy area in the first place? What about that weird parking garage and picking up that tricked out SUV? Strange how it was just sitting there waiting for you. Then you bring me up here to this luxury mountain retreat!”
“Are you quite finished?” he demanded, glaring at her.
“Probably not. I’m sure there’s more I just haven’t thought of yet.”
“I don’t care for histrionics,” he said sternly.
“How do you expect me to react? This isn’t normal!”
“I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them! Is that clear?”
“Fine! Ask away!”
“Why were you in that dark, back street so late?”
“I told you. I was supposed to clock off at one, but we had a crazy night. I didn’t get out of there until just after two, and that street is the fastest way home.”
“How long have you lived in that condo?”
“Five years. My dad gave me the down payment.”
“What’s his name and what does he do?”
“He was an engineer,” she said, then lowering her voice, she added. “He passed away a couple of years ago. Lung cancer. He was a chain smoker.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered with a sigh.
“Yeah, it sucked.”
“Your mother?”
“She’s an architect. But she doesn’t have to work. She does it because she enjoys it. I inherited my love of art from her. She’s an amazing painter.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“My brother’s a doctor in private practice. He’s the one who inspired me to become a nurse. His name is Brian.”
“Where’s your cell phone?”
“Upstairs.”
“Stay there.”
“Where can I go?” she retorted as he pushed back from the table.
“Keep it up, Phoebe. Your ass will pay for every smart-ass remark you make.”