Page 29 of Heart of Danger
He might end up shooting her, actually.
Mac looked around at the ruins of breakfast, then pinned her and Stella with a hard look. He addressed Stella. “You about done here?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you, Mac. Thank you for asking.” Stella tilted her head and studied him. “Always a pleasure to be around a man who minds his manners.”
His jaw muscles worked so hard his temples moved. Catherine would bet that anything that made the temperomandibular joints work so hard had to hurt the teeth.
That stony face showed no expression at all. Catherine wondered at Stella, who seemed to be totally indifferent to his mood.
“Stella,” Mac growled.
“Mac…” she answered, in an exaggerated imitation of his growl. To Catherine it seemed like baiting a bear, but Stella just looked exasperated, not frightened.
There was a stalemate of some kind. Catherine could practically see the lines of male and female will crossing. Amazingly, Stella won.
She pointed to the coffeepot. “Coffee? I still have enough for a cup.”
He hesitated, but Stella went ahead and got a cup from a cabinet. To Catherine’s surprise, there was a full complement of teas, a small sink and a microwave inside the cabinet. If she’d known, she’d have made herself a cup of tea last night.
Stella poured Mac a cup and handed it to him. “There you go, black no sugar. Like your heart.”
Mac put the cup down on the table hard enough for a couple of drops of coffee to slosh over the edge. “Goddammit Stella?—”
“No, you listen to me, Mac. Do you realize that this woman—” she made a graceful move indicating Catherine, reminding her all over again that Stella had once been one of the greatest actresses in the world. “Do you know she thought she was aprisonerlast night?”
Catherine made a sound, choked off before it could make its way from her throat to her mouth. She tried to hunker, to become invisible. Stella turned to her. “Didn’t you?” she demanded hotly.
Mac was looking at her narrow-eyed, face of stone. Oh God. She nodded, throat too tight to talk. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she wasn’t a prisoner.
“Well, you weren’t,” Stella said. “I can’t believe he’d make you think that forone second. This community doesn’t do prisons.”
Her eyes were the same eyes that had burned from the screen. Wide, pale blue, almost transparent, still beautiful and expressive, notwithstanding the scar that slashed from the right eyebrow to the edge of a sharp cheekbone, barely missing the eyeball. Those eyes had been magnificent on the screen but were even more powerful in real life. “Was she, Mac? You tell her she wasn’t locked up like an animal. And if you did lock that door you can forget about eating. Like, forever. You can cook your own damned meals.”
That grim face winced, as if in pain. Catherine understood completely. Now that she’d tasted Stella’s cooking, banishment from her meals was indeed something to be feared.
“You weren’t locked in.” The words sounded forced. Painful to say.
Catherine shuddered.She hadn’t been locked in last night.Those miserable hours huddled in on herself, wondering if she would ever be let out of the room—that hadn’t been real?
She stared at Mac. He stared back.
“Oh Christ,” Stella said and uncurled her long legs from around the chair legs and stood up. She marched over to the door and slapped a spot to the right of the door, halfway up. “There’s a slight indentation. Press it and the door opens. Press it twice and it locks. Come try it.”
Keeping a wary eye on Mac, Catherine walked to the door. Stella took her hand and pressed her fingers to the wall. It wasn’t visible to the eye but it was clear under her fingers. A slight round indentation. She pressed it and the door whooshed open and that fresh plant smell filled the room.
“See? Not a prisoner.” Stella was much taller than Catherine was and looked over her head to Mac. “Not only is she not a prisoner, but I think she’s found her way to us. I think she is one of us.”
Catherine had no idea what Stella meant but Mac did. He winced and shook his head. Stella sighed. “Christ, Mac, you’re hopeless. Go on. Show our guest around.”
“All right.” If his jaw got any tighter, the skin over his cheeks would crack
Stella turned to Catherine. “See you for lunch. I’m making radicchio risotto and pear tart. I make a mean risotto if I do say so myself. You’ll like it.”
“I bet I will. And for the record, I love risotto,” Catherine said fervently. “I’m looking forward to it.” She watched with a touch of unease as Stella left. As long as she was in the room, there was an air of…normality. Three people, talking.
With Stella gone, Catherine was left with this mountain of a grim-faced man who seemed to dislike her and yet who turned her on so much she couldn’t think straight.
God, what a miserable combination. The worst.
