managed as relief surged through her. "It had been behind me for blocks. I've heard of weirdos who do that, you know, follow a woman home and then attack her. I was going to drive on past when I saw your car. Oh, Conn, I've never been so glad to see anyone before in my life! What on earth are you doing here, anyway?"
"Guess," he growled succinctly. When she looked up at him with puzzled eyes, he sighed and loosened his grip on her long enough to close his car door. "I was waiting for you, naturally. Why else would I be sitting out here in front of your apartment building at this hour of the night?"
Honor's racing pulse slowed to a more normal level as the full implications of his presence hit her. "I'll assume that last crack is a rhetorical question." She pulled free of his encircling arm, smoothing her dress.
"Don't get me wrong, Conn, I really was glad to see you, but I think it would be interesting to know exactly what you thought you were going to accomplish sitting out here in the first place.
"Let's go inside and I'll explain it all in great detail," he murmured, taking her arm. "But first of all tell me about that truck."
"I honestly don't know any more than I just told you. A California crazy who gets his kicks following single women, I suppose. I should report him to the cops."
"Report what? That truck didn't even have a license plate on it."
"Well, he's gone now, thank heavens."
Conn propelled her lightly through the gate and up one flight of stairs to her apartment. It was as he took her key to open her front door that Honor realized she still didn't know what he was doing here.
"Conn, about this business of you waiting for me," she began with what she hoped was a suitably imperious air, "I'd like to know just what you thought you were going to accomplish."
He slanted her an unreadable glance as he stepped around her and headed for the red lacquered cabinet that contained the brandy.
"Priority number one was to see who would be bringing you home." He poured a shot of brandy into a glass. Then he raised the glass in a faint salute. "Priority number two was to make sure you didn't take him upstairs."
Honor heard the quiet arrogance in his words and swallowed uneasily. "As you can see, I'm really not into truck drivers." She decided to go on the offensive. "Did it occur to you that I might object to your making yourself right at home with my brandy?"
He stalked toward her with cool, masculine grace. "It seems to me that offering me a drink is the least you could do under the circumstances."
"What circumstances?" she flared.
"I've been around when you needed me lately, haven't I?"
She licked her lower lip. "No one asked you to be around, Conn.''
"But you've been grateful, nevertheless, haven't you?" He took a large swallow of the brandy and regarded her with his gunmetal eyes. "How was your business engagement, Honor? Have a good time?"
"Reasonably so," she said, mustering her composure. "Until that truck picked me up on the way home."
He nodded, taking another sip of brandy. Conn was wearing the jeans and the khaki shirt he'd had on earlier that day, Honor realized vaguely. The dark clothing combined with his somber, dangerous mood made him a formidable force in her living room.
"I think it's time for a little honesty from you, Honor Mayfield," he told her consideringly.
"What, exactly, do you want me to be honest about?"
"The reason you wouldn't have dinner with me tonight will do for a start."
"I told you, I had a business engagement."
"A very convenient one."
"Are you accusing me of something, Conn?"
"Yes. Avoiding me. And I'd like to know why."
Honor tried to move around him and found he was somehow blocking her path. She lifted her chin with cool hauteur. "Because there's too much I don't know about you. You frighten me a little, Conn, and I think you realize it."
The gray eyes flickered. "Yes."
"Then why put me through the third degree about this evening?" she challenged tightly.
"Guess," he growled succinctly. When she looked up at him with puzzled eyes, he sighed and loosened his grip on her long enough to close his car door. "I was waiting for you, naturally. Why else would I be sitting out here in front of your apartment building at this hour of the night?"
Honor's racing pulse slowed to a more normal level as the full implications of his presence hit her. "I'll assume that last crack is a rhetorical question." She pulled free of his encircling arm, smoothing her dress.
"Don't get me wrong, Conn, I really was glad to see you, but I think it would be interesting to know exactly what you thought you were going to accomplish sitting out here in the first place.
"Let's go inside and I'll explain it all in great detail," he murmured, taking her arm. "But first of all tell me about that truck."
"I honestly don't know any more than I just told you. A California crazy who gets his kicks following single women, I suppose. I should report him to the cops."
"Report what? That truck didn't even have a license plate on it."
"Well, he's gone now, thank heavens."
Conn propelled her lightly through the gate and up one flight of stairs to her apartment. It was as he took her key to open her front door that Honor realized she still didn't know what he was doing here.
"Conn, about this business of you waiting for me," she began with what she hoped was a suitably imperious air, "I'd like to know just what you thought you were going to accomplish."
He slanted her an unreadable glance as he stepped around her and headed for the red lacquered cabinet that contained the brandy.
"Priority number one was to see who would be bringing you home." He poured a shot of brandy into a glass. Then he raised the glass in a faint salute. "Priority number two was to make sure you didn't take him upstairs."
Honor heard the quiet arrogance in his words and swallowed uneasily. "As you can see, I'm really not into truck drivers." She decided to go on the offensive. "Did it occur to you that I might object to your making yourself right at home with my brandy?"
He stalked toward her with cool, masculine grace. "It seems to me that offering me a drink is the least you could do under the circumstances."
"What circumstances?" she flared.
"I've been around when you needed me lately, haven't I?"
She licked her lower lip. "No one asked you to be around, Conn.''
"But you've been grateful, nevertheless, haven't you?" He took a large swallow of the brandy and regarded her with his gunmetal eyes. "How was your business engagement, Honor? Have a good time?"
"Reasonably so," she said, mustering her composure. "Until that truck picked me up on the way home."
He nodded, taking another sip of brandy. Conn was wearing the jeans and the khaki shirt he'd had on earlier that day, Honor realized vaguely. The dark clothing combined with his somber, dangerous mood made him a formidable force in her living room.
"I think it's time for a little honesty from you, Honor Mayfield," he told her consideringly.
"What, exactly, do you want me to be honest about?"
"The reason you wouldn't have dinner with me tonight will do for a start."
"I told you, I had a business engagement."
"A very convenient one."
"Are you accusing me of something, Conn?"
"Yes. Avoiding me. And I'd like to know why."
Honor tried to move around him and found he was somehow blocking her path. She lifted her chin with cool hauteur. "Because there's too much I don't know about you. You frighten me a little, Conn, and I think you realize it."
The gray eyes flickered. "Yes."
"Then why put me through the third degree about this evening?" she challenged tightly.
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