"No," he bit out, "not unless she gives me a reason to change my mind. However, I'm not completely certain that she wouldn't protect Benedict from us if she could."
"You can't arrest her for something she hasn't done yet," Katherine pointed out logically.
"I have no intention of arresting her! In fact, I've done my damnedest to make certain that no one else decides to do that either."
Julie's startled voice brought his head around. "Have you really done that?" she asked him, her voice filled with gratitude and surprise.
Paul hesitated, feeling his anger being disarmed and defused by the expression in those eyes, then he nodded. "Yes."
For a moment her smile stayed on him and he basked in its warmth, then she transferred her smile to Katherine and quipped, "Cancel the hemlock!" which made him laugh.
Breakfast was a thoroughly delightful experience, Paul thought contentedly as he got up and filled his coffee cup while Julie and Katherine loaded dishes into the dishwasher. An extraordinarily pleasant time—and he knew exactly why that was so. As he'd just discovered to his complete enchantment, when Julie Mathison finally decided she liked someone, she liked them wholeheartedly and without reservation. From the moment he'd told her that he'd tried to ensure she wasn't arrested, she'd treated him with unaffected warmth, smiling when he spoke, teasing him if he stiffened up and behaved like an FBI agent. He was thinking about all that when he realized she was asking his advice, which he also found profoundly gratifying: "Yesterday," she explained, as she dried the omelet pan, "I talked to Mr. Duncan, our school principal, and he agreed that I could go back to work tomorrow, but only if the press doesn't disrupt classes trying to get to me. Katherine thinks the only way to stop them from doing that and to get rid of them completely is to call them all together and give them a detailed formal statement about what happened and then answer any other questions they have. What do you think?"
"I think she's absolutely right. In fact, that was one of the things I intended to suggest to you when I came over here this morning."
Frustrated at the necessity to defend herself, Julie yanked open a cupboard and put the omelet pan away. "I can't tell you how much I resent the idea that a world full of strangers thinks they're entitled to an explanation of something that has nothing whatsoever to do with them."
"I can understand that, but you only have two choices: deal with the press now, on your own terms, or let them keep printing damaging conjecture and chasing you everywhere you go."
Julie hesitated and then sighed, "All right, I'll do it, but I would rather face a firing squad."
"Would you like for me to be there to back you up?"
"Would you really do that for me?"
Would he really do that for her, Paul thought wryly. For her, he would not only do that, but he'd probably slay a dragon … beard a lion … move a mountain. By God … he'd even dry a frying pan! "Inasmuch as the FBI's presence here is part of the reason the press is hounding you," he said as he walked over to the sink and picked up the dish towel Katherine had laid aside when she went to answer the phone, "it's the least I can do."
"I—I don't know how to thank you," she said simply, trying not to notice how much more he reminded her of Zack when he was being charming.
"How about thanking me by having dinner with me on Wednesday?"
"Wednesday?" she exclaimed, appalled. "Are you still going to be here on Wednesday?"
The dragon he'd intended to slay for her reared up and sank its teeth into Paul's ass, the lion roared with laughter at his folly, and the mountain rose up before him, gigantic and immovable. "Try not to sound so enthusiastic," he said.
"I didn't mean it that way," she said, laying her hand on his sleeve and looking abjectly apologetic. "Truly I didn't. It's just that I—I hate being spied on and questioned, even by you."
"Has it occurred to you that Benedict could decide to come after you here or that your life could be in danger?" he said, slightly mollified by the sincerity of her apology and much more so by her unconscious gesture. "Benedict is a murderer and by your own admission, you didn't give him any trouble after he tried to save your life. Suppose he decides he misses the pleasure of your company? Or the pleasant security you provided him when you were a hostage? Suppose he suddenly decides you aren't loyal to him any more and decides to get his revenge the same way he got it on his wife?"
"Suppose that frying pan you're polishing decides to become a mirror and hangs itself on the living room wall," she countered, shaking her head at what she obviously viewed as his absurdity.
And at that moment Paul wished, very devoutly, that Benedict would hurry up and make some sort of move against her so that he could save her from the bastard and simultaneously prove to her he was right. For reasons he couldn't explain or understand, every instinct Paul possessed shouted at him that Benedict was going to come for her. Or try to contact her. Unfortunately, Dave Ingram completely disagreed, and he had a derisive explanation for Paul's "instincts" that was embarrassing as hell: Dave said Paul was so damned besotted with her that he couldn't believe Benedict wouldn't have fallen for her, too.
"What about dinner Wednesday night?" he said, reaching for the spatulas and drying them, too.
"I can't," Julie said. "I teach an adult reading class on Wednesday and Friday nights."
"Alright, how about Thursday night instead?"
"That sounds nice," Julie said, suppressing her dismay that the FBI intended to keep her under surveillance for so long. "Would you like me to invite Katherine to join us?"
"Why in hell would I want you to do that?"
"I am beginning to feel," Katherine laughingly remarked from the doorway, "quite horribly unwanted around here."
At the sound of her voice, Paul tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and hastily invented an excuse for his tactlessness: "I am not usually so obnoxious or so clumsy. I know Dave Ingram will insist on making it a foursome if you come along, Katherine, and I didn't particularly want to spend another evening with him, which was why I said what I did about inviting you." He opened his eyes and found himself the object of amused pity from both women, who were visibly enjoying his plight.
"I think we should forgive him," Katherine said.
"So do I," Julie replied.
Paul was muttering a brief prayer of gratitude for their mutual gullibility, when Katherine added blandly, "He's lying of course."
"You can't arrest her for something she hasn't done yet," Katherine pointed out logically.
"I have no intention of arresting her! In fact, I've done my damnedest to make certain that no one else decides to do that either."
Julie's startled voice brought his head around. "Have you really done that?" she asked him, her voice filled with gratitude and surprise.
Paul hesitated, feeling his anger being disarmed and defused by the expression in those eyes, then he nodded. "Yes."
For a moment her smile stayed on him and he basked in its warmth, then she transferred her smile to Katherine and quipped, "Cancel the hemlock!" which made him laugh.
Breakfast was a thoroughly delightful experience, Paul thought contentedly as he got up and filled his coffee cup while Julie and Katherine loaded dishes into the dishwasher. An extraordinarily pleasant time—and he knew exactly why that was so. As he'd just discovered to his complete enchantment, when Julie Mathison finally decided she liked someone, she liked them wholeheartedly and without reservation. From the moment he'd told her that he'd tried to ensure she wasn't arrested, she'd treated him with unaffected warmth, smiling when he spoke, teasing him if he stiffened up and behaved like an FBI agent. He was thinking about all that when he realized she was asking his advice, which he also found profoundly gratifying: "Yesterday," she explained, as she dried the omelet pan, "I talked to Mr. Duncan, our school principal, and he agreed that I could go back to work tomorrow, but only if the press doesn't disrupt classes trying to get to me. Katherine thinks the only way to stop them from doing that and to get rid of them completely is to call them all together and give them a detailed formal statement about what happened and then answer any other questions they have. What do you think?"
"I think she's absolutely right. In fact, that was one of the things I intended to suggest to you when I came over here this morning."
Frustrated at the necessity to defend herself, Julie yanked open a cupboard and put the omelet pan away. "I can't tell you how much I resent the idea that a world full of strangers thinks they're entitled to an explanation of something that has nothing whatsoever to do with them."
"I can understand that, but you only have two choices: deal with the press now, on your own terms, or let them keep printing damaging conjecture and chasing you everywhere you go."
Julie hesitated and then sighed, "All right, I'll do it, but I would rather face a firing squad."
"Would you like for me to be there to back you up?"
"Would you really do that for me?"
Would he really do that for her, Paul thought wryly. For her, he would not only do that, but he'd probably slay a dragon … beard a lion … move a mountain. By God … he'd even dry a frying pan! "Inasmuch as the FBI's presence here is part of the reason the press is hounding you," he said as he walked over to the sink and picked up the dish towel Katherine had laid aside when she went to answer the phone, "it's the least I can do."
"I—I don't know how to thank you," she said simply, trying not to notice how much more he reminded her of Zack when he was being charming.
"How about thanking me by having dinner with me on Wednesday?"
"Wednesday?" she exclaimed, appalled. "Are you still going to be here on Wednesday?"
The dragon he'd intended to slay for her reared up and sank its teeth into Paul's ass, the lion roared with laughter at his folly, and the mountain rose up before him, gigantic and immovable. "Try not to sound so enthusiastic," he said.
"I didn't mean it that way," she said, laying her hand on his sleeve and looking abjectly apologetic. "Truly I didn't. It's just that I—I hate being spied on and questioned, even by you."
"Has it occurred to you that Benedict could decide to come after you here or that your life could be in danger?" he said, slightly mollified by the sincerity of her apology and much more so by her unconscious gesture. "Benedict is a murderer and by your own admission, you didn't give him any trouble after he tried to save your life. Suppose he decides he misses the pleasure of your company? Or the pleasant security you provided him when you were a hostage? Suppose he suddenly decides you aren't loyal to him any more and decides to get his revenge the same way he got it on his wife?"
"Suppose that frying pan you're polishing decides to become a mirror and hangs itself on the living room wall," she countered, shaking her head at what she obviously viewed as his absurdity.
And at that moment Paul wished, very devoutly, that Benedict would hurry up and make some sort of move against her so that he could save her from the bastard and simultaneously prove to her he was right. For reasons he couldn't explain or understand, every instinct Paul possessed shouted at him that Benedict was going to come for her. Or try to contact her. Unfortunately, Dave Ingram completely disagreed, and he had a derisive explanation for Paul's "instincts" that was embarrassing as hell: Dave said Paul was so damned besotted with her that he couldn't believe Benedict wouldn't have fallen for her, too.
"What about dinner Wednesday night?" he said, reaching for the spatulas and drying them, too.
"I can't," Julie said. "I teach an adult reading class on Wednesday and Friday nights."
"Alright, how about Thursday night instead?"
"That sounds nice," Julie said, suppressing her dismay that the FBI intended to keep her under surveillance for so long. "Would you like me to invite Katherine to join us?"
"Why in hell would I want you to do that?"
"I am beginning to feel," Katherine laughingly remarked from the doorway, "quite horribly unwanted around here."
At the sound of her voice, Paul tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and hastily invented an excuse for his tactlessness: "I am not usually so obnoxious or so clumsy. I know Dave Ingram will insist on making it a foursome if you come along, Katherine, and I didn't particularly want to spend another evening with him, which was why I said what I did about inviting you." He opened his eyes and found himself the object of amused pity from both women, who were visibly enjoying his plight.
"I think we should forgive him," Katherine said.
"So do I," Julie replied.
Paul was muttering a brief prayer of gratitude for their mutual gullibility, when Katherine added blandly, "He's lying of course."
