After the way he’d been acting, it was on the tip of her tongue to say, “a cave.” She wisely kept her mouth shut. Not foolish enough to test him. Besides, with his fingers still curled possessively around her arm, he was making certain she couldn’t run from him again.
She gritted her teeth, irked by his aloof manner. Not that she blamed him, but where would she go? Her car was back at the base, her apartment across the bridge on the mainland, and with her wallet hours away in LA, she had no phone or money to call a cab.
He moved his hand to the small of her back and guided her inside.
A wet nose and wagging tail greeted her. “Roscoe!” she exclaimed, going into a squat for some excited doggie kisses. His welcome was so much better than his master’s.
“I need to let him out, then we’ll talk,” Flynn said, as he closed and locked the door behind him. “Come on, buddy,” he murmured, crossing the room to a set of French sliders on the far wall.
When he opened them and waited for his dog to trot through, Cassie rose and glanced around his home. They were in a great room with gleaming hardwood floors and high ceilings. To the left was a wooden staircase with the same glossy wood on the treads and the rail spindles.
It was immaculate, everything orderly and in its place. The furniture was dark wood and leather, utterly masculine—the only thing that didn’t surprise her about his home. That and the enormous wall-mounted flat screen TV, of course.
“My grandparents bought the house new in 1929. They left it to me when they passed a few years back.” Before she could comment, he added, “We’ll talk in the den.”
He moved through an archway, and she followed, pausing to peek into the neat, updated kitchen. Through a door on the far wall, she could see the dining area.
“Cassie.”
She glanced up to find him waiting at the end of the short hallway, his hands on his hips, clearly impatient. Hurrying to catch up, she entered ahead of him. A chill ran up her spine when he shut the door with an ominous thud and closed them in together.
Chapter 10
Walking past her, Flynncrossed to a large desk, bare on top except for a small lamp and an old-fashioned phone with a coiled cord connecting the receiver. She stared at it, thinking it had to be another leftover from his grandparents. He turned and leaned his backside against the front edge of the desk. It was a neutral pose until he crossed his arms again and leveled his steely gaze at her.
He nodded at the chair in front of him. Sheobeyed his silent order, perching on the edge while waiting for the thunderstorm to hit. Cassie gained newfound compassion for the candidates who found themselves on the receiving end of Commander Dalton’s displeasure.
“I spoke to Lieutenant Commander Jameson.”
Horrified, she looked up. “Why would you do that?”
He appeared equally shocked by her question. “Why would you think I wouldn’t? You came to a private club under his protection. Then, after seeing me, ran out like your ass was on fire. You didn’t stop when either of us called, and you left your purse and phone behind. According to him, you didn’t answer your door when they came by to see you the next morning. They were worried about you, as was I. We would have had this discussion yesterday, but he wouldn’t give me your address without your permission, which you couldn’t give since you were unavailable by phone.” Anger and frustration were creeping into his voice. “I also called your company, which turned into a damn awkward Q&A session with your boss, who wouldn’t give it out, either.”
She stiffened, stifling a groan. Getting such a call on a weekend from an officer on base would have freaked George Austin out. He was high-strung and, when hit with the unexpected, did one of two things: thought the worst or panicked. Sometimes, he did both. That he hadn’t called the police to break down her door when he couldn’t reach her by phone all weekend stunned her. And short of that, hadn’t flown out and been waiting to rake her over the coals that morning.
“What did you tell him?”