Free Nothing to Fear by Karen Rose Page B

or if anything of value had been stolen, but she wasn’t and it hadn’t and Dana was keeping her mouth closed. “It happened too fast.”
    Buchanan wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh. And why were you in the bus station so late?”
    This one at least she was ready for. “I was waiting for a bus.”
    “To?”
    “From. I was meeting a friend.”
    “Who is where?”
    “She didn’t get off the bus, so I guess she’s not coming after all.” She’d waited for tonight’s client for two hours, but the woman had never gotten off the bus. Again.
    He raised a blond brow. “Impolite friend.”
    Dana shrugged, laying it on a little thicker. “More like flaky. She says she’s going to come and gets the dates mixed up. Tomorrow she’ll call, crying her eyes out in apology.”
    “Which you’ll accept.”
    “Naturally. She’s my friend.”
    He tilted his head. “So what do you do when you’re not meeting flaky friends at the bus terminal, Dana?”
    “I’m a photographer. You know, mothers and babies, that sort of thing.” This was actually true. Sort of. She’d been worried that the constant flow of women and children in and out of Hanover House would attract unwanted attention from her neighbors. It had been Evie’s idea to put out a small, discreet sign advertising family photography. Dana already had the camera equipment she used to produce new driver’s licenses and it did explain all the women and children, but to Dana’s annoyance and Evie’s amusement, sometimes they drew real business. Normally enough to pay the monthly phone bill, but not enough to threaten the true mission of Hanover House, so everybody was happy.
    She leaned back, studied him. “So why were you calling on customers with a rumpled suit and two days’ beard at five-thirty in the morning?”
    He lifted one corner of his very nice mouth and every square inch of her skin sizzled, some square inches a lot more than others. “Nice. I was just about to cut you a handicap.”
    She bit back a smile of her own. “Keep your handicap. Just answer the question.”
    “I just got into town and wanted to check out their night talent before calling on the boss during the day. It’s the best strategy for winning new business. Evaluate their vulnerabilities”—he leaned forward conspiratorially—“and offer something better.”
    His voice had softened to something close to a purr and all Dana could think of was a big golden cat, stalking his prey. But she didn’t feel threatened. Not in the conventional sense anyway. She felt . . . powerful, like he’d given her a secret key.
    “Are you . . . evaluating my vulnerabilities, Mr. Buchanan?”
    Those steady green eyes gleamed. “Ethan.”
    She acknowledged his point with a small nod. “Ethan. Well, are you?”
    He said nothing for a moment, just held her gaze. Finally he leaned back, and when he spoke all smooth texture and pretense were gone from his voice. “Do you want me to?”
    It was not the answer she expected and she blinked. “Me?”
    “Yes, you. I get the impression that you don’t say or do anything you don’t want to do. And if someone tries to make you, you duck the issue like a pro.”
    She blinked again. “What a strange thing to say.” And reasonably true.
    “Astute, I’d think. Well?”
    She drew a breath and gave him the most honest answer she knew. “I don’t know.”
    He nodded. “That’s fair, I suppose. One more question and I’ll let you go.”
    Disappointment speared her heart at the very thought of his leaving. “Okay. Ask.”
    “Do you have a boyfriend, husband, or significant other . . . of any kind?”
    It was her turn to cough at his implication. “No current husbands or boyfriends and I’m heterosexual, thank you very much.”
    He smiled at that. “Good to know. Can I then assume you have an ex-husband?”
    She thought about her ex-husband, the years she’d suffered under his abuse. The relief at breaking free. She’d never looked back. “Very ex.