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Once again, he thought they were much more similar than it seemed at first. Both of them pigheaded as hell.
He drew in a long, controlled breath. “No. That’s not what I want. I get the feeling you’re in deeper than you want me to know. What I want is for you to tell me what trouble you’re in, because I think it’s coming at you fast and you’re going to need me. If not me, someone.”
The resistance seemed to drain from her body. She sat slumped on her heels for a moment. Moses looked up at her, abandoned his bowl of water, and propped his chin on her knee. She picked him up and rose to her feet, cuddling him against her chest.
“Okay,” she finally said. “But I hope you can understand that I’ve had valid reasons for not telling you before now. For one thing, I’ve been burned by trusting the authorities during this process. For another, I was warned not to talk about it.”
“By who?”
“The authorities,” she admitted with a slight smile.
“I’m hardly ‘the authorities’ in this situation. I’m on vacation.” Every time he said the word “vacation,” it sounded strange to his ears. Whatever this Lake Bittersweet adventure was, vacation didn’t cover it.
“That’s another reason. I didn’t want to ruin your holidays.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I really hope that was last on your list. Between the sage and the…” he waved his hand at the possessions scattered on her side of the living room “…all that, not to mention the damn puppy chow underfoot, I think that ship has sailed.”
She gasped and clutched Moses to her chest. “Are you accusing this poor innocent puppy of ruining your vacation?”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t take her bait. “Are you going to tell me what trouble you’re in or am I checking out of this inn tonight?”
He watched the war taking place behind those nearly-perfect features, and thought again about the irony that it was the off-kiltered-ness, the slight asymmetry, that made her face compelling. He was observant by nature—the result of growing up with chaos. His FBI training had made him even more so. Observing Bliss was a fascinating process because there was so much going on behind her careful composure.
“I don’t want you to leave,” she finally said.
“Good. I don’t want to leave either.”
Moses squirmed in her arms and she bent to set him on the floor of the kitchen, where he pounced on a stray bit of kibble. She grabbed a box of Triscuits and shook a few out in her hand, then came into the living room. He set his teeth against the need to tell her to use a plate, then realized she was doing it on purpose. Distraction? He wouldn’t fall for it. He’d let her scatter crumbs everywhere if that was what she wanted.
She stole a glance at him, saw he wasn’t reacting, and twirled back into the kitchen, where she grabbed herself a small plate.
He fought against the grin that wanted to spread across his face, and lost.
She caught it, though. Their eyes met in a moment of perfect mutual understanding that zinged through him like an arrow of light.
Damn. That was much more distracting that a handful of crackers.
He folded his arms across his chest, let his face settle back into FBI-patented blankness, and waited.
Bliss set her plate on a side table and sat on the couch, hugging her arms loosely around her knees. She was wearing scarlet cashmere peg leg trousers and an oversized pinstriped men’s shirt. “I saw something in Thailand. Recorded it, actually. On my phone. It seemed like a, I don’t know, a national security issue, so I reported it to the State Department. After that is when weird things started happening. Someone broke into my hotel room, and the other incidents I mentioned. But no one ever tried to harm me, so I don’t believe there’s any threat to you.”
Granger had to unclamp his teeth to speak. “That’s not my primary concern at this moment.” FBI speak. His default mode when he wanted to hide his emotions.National security issue? State Department? Jesus.
“Well, it is one of my concerns because if I’d thought there was real danger I wouldn’t have dragged someone else into it.”
He spoke very carefully in order to make his point. “I don’t mind danger. I just don’t want to walk into it blind. What did you see in Thailand?”
“Do you really need the details?”
“Details are always important. They’re the most important.”
Her gaze flitted back and forth. She looked like she was plotting her escape, like maybe about to jump out the window.
He gentled his voice, changed his position. Propping his hip on the other arm of the couch, he said gently, “Okay, let’s try this another way. Why are you so afraid to tell me?”
She pulled a pillow onto her lap as if that would protect her against his penetrating stare. It wouldn’t, because that was another of his FBI-honed tools. When he pulled out his lawman glare, people got nervous. Especially people with something to hide. “Because the guy at the consulate in Bangkok said not to tell anyone. Then again, I think he ratted me out, so maybe I shouldn’t listen to him.”
“There you go. Now you’re making sense.”
