Chapter 25
“My father knows who tried to poison me? Who? What did he say? I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.” The room closed in on her. She had to move to get air, but everywhere she went stole the breath from her lungs.
She and her father didn’t always get along. He always preferred her brothers to her. She had assumed it was because she reminded him too much of her mother. But to know who would want to kill her and not say something. She would bounce off these walls if she didn’t get out of there.
Harlan attempted to grab her wrists and settle her down, but she pushed his hands away and darted around the sofa. She could not sit still, would not. Her father knew the truth. The man had never loved her one single day. What kind of a father had knowledge of his child’s killer and didn’t go the police? Or come to her with it? His job was to protect her, but he hadn’t ever done that for her. She had taken care of herself, always.
“Storm.” Harlan blocked her path, but she had to get out. She pushed and shoved without thought. Her hands moved of their own volition. She was no more in control of herself than anyone could be of the lava flowing from the volcano.
He ducked and dodged, skilled in his movements. She hardly made contact. She didn’t want to hit Harlan. She wanted to hit something so the anger didn’t destroy her. She wanted to rail against the years of being left alone by her parents.
Harlan captured her wrists and pulled her to him. Her body relented without any more fight and sagged against him. She wanted to kick and scream, to bite and yell, but she surrendered under his hard glare. She wasn’t afraid of Harlan. Her body knew what her mind could not understand in the moment. This man was quickly becoming her light in the stormy ocean. He was there to help her and guide her. She was the fool.
“Listen to me for a second.” He lowered his voice and smiled at her with his eyes. Her body relaxed further. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, shutting out her embarrassment.
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“I’m going to let you go. Will you stop hitting me?”
“I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You’ve been through a lot. Your reaction is understandable.” He released her but didn’t move away.
“How can you be so understanding?”
“Because you feel helpless in all of this. You want answers, and I don’t blame you.”
She dropped her gaze and laughed at her poor behavior. Heat filled her cheeks. “I’m truly sorry. Go ahead, tell me what my father said.”
Harlan sat on the couch and patted the seat beside him. She curled up, tucking her legs under her, and he pulled her close. She caught a slight whiff of his spicy smell.
“He didn’t name a killer. He’s withholding information. My hunch is he knows or has a very good idea. He may have seen something or put a few pieces together. I’m going to have another talk with him tomorrow. See if I can get him to squirm a little.”
“Is it him?” She looked into Harlan’s eyes, in case she could find the truth there.
“I don’t think so. He loves you.”
“No, he doesn’t.” She had no memory of a warm moment with her father. As a child, she had wanted him to read to her, to come to her school events, help with homework, but he was always too busy. When she became a teenager, she rebelled against everything he stood for and those memories were colored outside the lines with anger and hate. In her adult years, she learned that her father’s affection came only from the things she accomplished in academia. She worked harder and faster than anyone could, simply to hear him tell her that she had performed well.
“I know it might seem that way to you, but his body language gives him away. Deep down, he loves you. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Harlan stroked her hair. His fingers ignited her heat. She snuggled closer.
“What do you mean by his body language? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying your father doesn’t exhibit any signs of stress when he talks about his feelings for you. He isn’t hiding anything.” Harlan shifted, making it easier to see his face.
“Then why can’t he show his love?” It couldn’t be hard to show a child love. She had never wanted more than her father’s time and praise.
“Because not everyone is capable of that. Our life and our past get in our way. Hurts, failures, fears.”
“I need to speak with him. I’m going to make him tell me what he knows.” She sprang up from the couch and hurried for the door.
Harlan jumped in front of her, blocking the way. The man was quick on his feet. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you go in there now, all fired up, he’s going to deny and retreat. He might even hop on the next plane out of here, if the flights are back to normal. I need him calm and right where he is.”
“If it’s not him, then who is it?”
“I don’t know. Could be Randal. He has motive.”
“He doesn’t have it in him.”
“It’s true that a killer doesn’t have to be an introvert. In fact, people who suffer from mania are often extroverts. In addition to motive, he has opportunity. He knows your schedule. He’s angry about his station in life. I can’t rule him out.”
“I don’t want to talk about Randal anymore.” She placed a hand on his cheek. His beard tickled her fingers. She wondered what he looked like clean-shaven and if she would ever be able to find out. Hawaii was coming to an end. It couldn’t last forever.
“What has body language told you about me?” she asked.
He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Lots of things.”
“You have a clear advantage over me, if you can tell stuff about me from just looking at me. How do I learn that trick?”
He placed her hand on his chest. “Do you feel that?” he said.
His heart pounded in a quick rhythm under her fingers. “I do.”
“What do you see on my face?”
She took a minute to answer. “Besides your chiseled jaw and sexy eyes?”
He laughed. “Besides my good looks, yes.”
“I see a smile on your lips. The line between your brows is smooth.” She ran her finger over that spot. He sighed, and his heart picked up speed under her touch. “You’re looking at me with something that resembles tenderness, caring perhaps.”
“If I ever look at you in any other way, then you’ll know something is wrong. Not between us, necessarily, but something in my life is off. And you can always place your hand on my chest and feel the power of my heart beating for you.”
“I don’t want to pressure you, but what’s going to happen between us?”
His face remained the same. “How I’m feeling right now is like a mission I’ve never been on before. The best kind of mission. When that happens, I prefer to stay present and not worry about things that may or may not happen. We can take this one day at a time, keep talking, and see where we’re going. Does that sound like something you’d be okay with?”
“I typically plan months ahead of time. I try to anticipate every objection a donor, someone on the board, or professor might give me so I can handle them. I’m not good at living in the present moment.”
“There’s planning and there’s worrying. We plan for what we know, but part of that plan includes being ready for the unexpected. You, lady, are very unexpected. I’d like to enjoy the ride for as long as I can.”
“No promises, in other words.”
“I promise to be honest and direct. I promise to make you smile every day for as long as you’ll let me. I promise to keep your name on my lips while I make love to you. How’s that?”
She had never stepped so far out on the ledge of uncertainty in her life. Harlan had the power to destroy her if things went badly between them. She could walk away with her heart intact. That would be easier than cleaning up the mess that might be left behind when he tired of her.