Chapter Seventeen
Donovan was at a loss for words. Phoebe was right. Her lie-detecting skills would be invaluable, and her remarkable memory could also be useful. But it was out of the question. Franco, Manny and Boris were ruthless. How could he put anyone, especially someone he cared for, in that kind of danger? And Sam would never agree.
“Think about this,” she continued. “Imagine you’re talking to someone and you don’t know if they’re being honest about something very important. If you ask him—or her—a direct question, I can tell you in an instant if they’re lying. We can work out a signal. If I scratch my nose, they’re telling the truth, and if I run my fingers through my hair, they’re not. And I don’t have to be with you all the time. Just in situations that are safe.”
“Even so...” he murmured, wishing he could have her with him.
“Even so…what?”
“Even so, I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be facing.”
“Does it matter? If things start looking dicey I can always leave. I want to join you. I really do.”
“I understand, and I wish you could be there too, but—”
“Never mind!” she exclaimed sharply. “Obviously you think it’s a terrible idea, I’m going to find my way back to the kitchen. I need coffee, or tea, or something. Thanks for the tour, it’s an awesome place.”
He watched, not sure what to say, as she seemed to pivot on her toes and start for the door.
“Wait,” he called, hurrying after her.
As she disappeared into the hall he was about to follow, but abruptly changed his mind..
He needed to think.
Ambling back to a chair facing the picture window, he sat down and stared out at the forest. He was used to working on his own, but having her with him—even under strictly controlled conditions—could be extremely helpful.
It would also give him a cover.
They’d be a couple having fun.
He smiled.
He had plenty of disguises.
It could work.
But as he lifted his phone from his pocket to call Sam he knew it was a bad idea.
* * *
Though Phoebe had found loose leaf English Breakfast tea and a teapot, she couldn’t find a hot water kettle, then she realized there was boiling water from a third faucet over the sink.
“I have muffins in the freezer,” Donovan exclaimed as she filled the teapot. “Just pop one in the microwave for three minutes. There’s chocolate, honey-bran and blueberry. Which would you like?”
“You don’t have any cookies?”
“Possibly. I’ll check. Anything in particular?”
“No, I just fancy dunking. It’s something my father and I used to do together. Make tea and dunk cookies. It cheers me up…and Donovan…I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m going to miss you, and I’ll be worrying a lot.”
“Hey, I understand,” he said, moving up to her and bringing her into his arms. “I wish you could join me, I really do. If it makes you feel any better, I spoke to the man in charge. He wouldn’t even discuss it.”
“You did?”
“I did. You were right. Having you around would be extremely helpful, not to mention enjoyable,” he murmured, pulling back and staring down at her.
“It certainly would,” she mumbled with a heavy sigh, wishing he’d kiss her, and miraculously he did. Leaning down and pressing his lips on hers, he softly lingered, then fervently consumed her mouth. As they broke apart and she buried her head in the hollow of his shoulder, she had to fight back tears.
“How about that cup of tea,” he said softly. “I think we could both use one.”
“Sure,” she managed, stepping away and swallowing the lump in her throat.
As he walked to the end of the kitchen and opened a cabinet, she found two mugs, poured the tea, then set them on the table with a small jug of milk and a bowl of sugar.
“I found chocolate chip,” he remarked, returning with a plastic container.
“Perfect, thanks. Does someone come here and cook for you?”
“Sometimes, but I do most everything myself,” he replied, opening the plastic container and setting it down. “Phoebe, I wish you could join me, I really do.”
“I get it. But will you at least tell me a little bit? Like, where you’re going, and are you some kind of special agent?”
“I’ll be in Southampton, and no, I’m not in law enforcement. I just help out occasionally. I have a special skill set, and not being on the official payroll lets me fly under the radar.”
“Oh…interesting. Can you tell me anything about why you’re going there? Does it have to do with those thugs who attacked you? Obviously I already know they’re not your run-of-the mill muggers.”
“Yes, it does. There’s a certain item there, and I’ve been asked to check it out.”
She stared at him, then quickly looked away and reached for a cookie.
“Phoebe? What’s wrong? Oh—I understand. You know when I’m lying, but I wasn’t, I just can’t give you all the details.”
“I figured that,” she muttered with a frown. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t.
It wasn’t okay at all.
She’d stared at him because she had no idea if he was being truthful. It was unnerving, but wonderful all at the same time. Her feelings for him were stronger than she’d realized. Suddenly the thought of him flying off to do battle with the evil men who had so viciously attacked him filled her with dread.
“Donovan, do you absolutely have to go? Can’t you get out of it? Those men are savages.”
“Believe me, I’d much rather stay here with you, but going there might just save my bacon.”
“Speaking of bacon,” she murmured as a wicked idea crossed her mind. “It’s your turn to close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.”