Free DrillingDownDeep by Angela Claire Page A

should never talk to my sister then. She spent almost
her whole life convincing herself I wasn’t.”
    “Why?”
    “I was too prissy with her, I guess.”
    She laughed. “Don’t press your luck and tell me I remind you
of your little sister. I won’t believe that one.”
    “No, you shouldn’t.”
    She stared at him, as if expecting him to continue, a slight
smile on her face, and she was such a pretty picture, he did. “So what about
you? You said your father never remarried, but even I’m not prissy enough to
think that means you couldn’t have any siblings.”
    “No, a vasectomy took care of that. Apparently right after
my mother died. It kind of hurt my feelings when I found out about it. Sort of
like he didn’t want to have any kids because I was such a burden or something.
But when I got older, I realized it really just meant he didn’t want any kids
with anyone but her. Not that he didn’t go around fucking everything
that moved.”
    “Well, our fathers have that in common then, though mine
might be slowing a bit. He’s eighty.”
    “Yeah, well, mine too.”
    He stared at her, but she didn’t elaborate. Instead, she
said, “What do you say now you don’t have an erection we try to get some
sleep?”
    “What do you say if I find that empty cabin O’Malley
tried to put me in when I got here? No offense, but I think we’ll both be a lot
more comfortable that way.”
    “No offense taken. I’d have to agree with you. You got quite
a—”
    “Hey, whatever you were about to say,” he interrupted
quietly, “I’d advise against it unless you’re trying to invite me into breaking
my cardinal rule.”
    She didn’t ask which one.
    “I’m not one of the boys, Vanny.”
    For one wild irresponsible second, he wanted to break his
own rule.
    “Yeah, that’s the problem, Michael.”
    She led him out of the cabin and down the hallway. He’d get
his stuff tomorrow.
    But as he closed the door on his solitary cabin, he wondered
what had been so odd about the way she said his first name.
    * * * * *
    Vanny knocked on Michael’s door the next morning and he
opened it a second later to her relief. Good. She hadn’t woken him up. He
looked tousled and sexy, but definitely awake.
    She handed him his briefcase and his overnight bag. “Special
delivery,” she said, feeling oddly shy.
    He smiled. “Thanks. I was going to be right down. I thought
you might start early.”
    “Yeah.” As he dropped his bag on a bunk and his briefcase on
the chair, she added without thought, “You should be more careful with your
briefcase.”
    He raised one black eyebrow.
    “I mean, you know, your papers and your…” Shit. Why the hell
had she said that? “Anyway, I’m just going down to get a little something to
eat. Breakfast isn’t served for another hour or so, but I can scare up some coffee
and maybe a bagel if you want me to bring anything back.”
    “No, I’m fine. Thanks, Vanny. I’ll get dressed and then
decide what I’ll be doing. I should probably get back.”
    “Yeah, sure, of course.”
    “Go on down to breakfast. I’ll get dressed.”
    “Oh sure. Yeah.” She fairly stumbled away to the sound of
the door shutting.
    Could anyone say awkward ?
    Whatever kinship they’d felt last night had apparently worn
off as Michael Reynolds donned his big CEO hat again. The jerk. She
wished he’d never come for his fucking tour. She wished she’d never been to his
stupid old penthouse.
    She wished—
    She stopped herself mid-thought. She was so totally not
going to do this.
    The galley was deserted, as she’d expected. Helping herself
to a cup of coffee from the ever-present urn in the corner, she went back out
into the empty cafeteria and took a seat in the farthest corner she could find
in case anybody else should wander in while she inhaled her caffeine. She
didn’t feel like making small talk. She poured one of those mini cartons of
cream into her coffee and stirred aggressively with the little stick