He had a feeling Alice would always stay one step ahead.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS RIDICULOUS, but the closer it got to bedtime, the more antsy she became.
In part because of what she’d told Reese.
But mostly because of what she hadn’t told him.
He behaved the same, a little outrageous, far too attentive, sexy and downright wonderful. About everything.
He helped cook dinner. He helped clean up afterward. He played with Cash while she checked her messages and emails.
At the speed of light, he already filled her life.
Alice knew she wanted more. More than a casual relationship. More than sex.
More than temporary.
But a man like Reese would always demand honesty, and her personal truths would likely drive him away.
Such a conundrum. A balancing act.
Hearing Reese return from taking Cash out, she closed her computer. Ears attuned, she heard him lock the door, heard him talking softly with the dog.
Heard his footsteps coming down the hall.
With little decided, she turned her chair in anticipation of seeing him—and there he was. Cash came in around him, but Reese held him back.
“It’s muddy out there, so I had to wash his paws. I tried drying them, too, but easier said than done.”
Alice smiled. “It’s okay.” With her emotions so jumbled, she could use some unconditional puppy love right about now. She patted her thigh, and Cash bounded forward.
Hands in his pockets, his mouth tilted in a crooked smile, Reese propped a shoulder in the door frame. “He acts as if he hasn’t seen you for days instead of minutes.”
Sinking her fingers into the dog’s long, silky fur, Alice hugged him. “He’s the sweetest dog ever.”
“Or perhaps you’re just a very accepting woman.” He stepped in. “Are we interrupting your work?”
“No. I’d just finished up.”
He lifted a crystal paperweight shaped like a rose. Engraved on the front were the words: Sisters are Forever. “Very nice.”
Needlessly, she explained, “My sister got me that.”
“Special occasion?”
Nervousness began uncoiling inside her. “When I...returned home.” Her throat constricted. She hugged Cash closer. “After the kidnapping.”
As if the dog understood, he whined and laid his head over her thighs.
“I see.” Reese returned the paperweight to her desktop and looked around her room. “Tell me more about what you do.”
“Being a virtual assistant?”
“Yes. I don’t know much about it.”
So, he didn’t plan to pry right now? Tension receded, making it easier for her to breathe. Her work was a safe, comfortable topic. “I do a lot of stuff.”
“Like?”
“Set up programming, marketing, advertisement. I do copywriting for presentations and manage social calendars. Filing, travel plans, sometimes I even help develop brands for small businesses.” She watched Reese stop before an ornate clock on the wall. It neared ten-thirty.
Her bedtime.
Reese moved on to her file cabinet, read the names on the front of each drawer. “Sounds like you do it all.”
What was he looking for? Surely a utilitarian, locked file cabinet held no fascination. “Whatever the client needs, I can usually handle it.” She was a top-notch assistant—a curse she would live with forever.
“You communicate through email?”
“Mostly, yes.” A throbbing started in her temples, thanks to the intrusion of a nasty memory. She rubbed it away. “Sometimes with conference calls.” She avoided Skype and visual conferencing because she didn’t want to be identifiable.
Reese pondered that. “You never receive physical items?” She could almost see him thinking, picking apart her methods and finding reasons for them. “Actual mail or anything? Maybe a business item that the client wants you to review?”
“It’s rare, because I’m not part of product development. But when the client insists, I have a post office box that I check twice a week.” She made the trip two towns over to avoid a trail. In every way possible, she kept her anonymity. Not easy, but doable, when you were careful enough.
And she was very, very careful.
“I see.” He touched the top of her oversize flat-screen monitor. “How do you get paid?”
His continued questioning set her on edge again. Though she trusted Reese and enjoyed his company—even craved it—nervousness began ramping up. She closed her hands over the arms of her chair, her grip tight as she instinctively rejected the intrusion into her privacy. “I get paid through online accounts.”
“Convenient.”
Did that sound like an accusation? “Yes.”
He didn’t look right at her, instead choosing to circle her desk, his attention on folders, even paper clips. “Do you ever actually meet your clients?”
Too quickly, she said, “No.”
As if he understood her reticence to meet others, her need for isolation, Reese nodded.
She braced herself for the more personal questions to come. Now he would insist on knowing it all. And she wasn’t ready. Apprehension flooded her system, but she kept her expression composed.
She’d learned to do that during her captivity—to hide all emotion. Reactions gained attention, and sometimes retaliation. Better to fade into the woodwork, to get her job done as unobtrusively as possible.
Silent and efficient.