Dar hung her head, then looked up at Kerry through dark lashes with a sheepish grin. “Corn and sugar are two of the food groups, right?” she inquired hopefully. “Let me guess, you do Grape Nuts.”
Kerry glanced around, then tiptoed over to her, and whispered. “Cocoa Krispies, but don’t you tell anyone.”
They shared a conspiratorial grin. Then, unexpectedly, Dar reached out and put a hand on Kerry’s shoulder. “Thanks for helping me out, Kerry. Sorry Tropical Storm 125
it got you stuck here.”
Kerry cocked her head a little, and a gentle smile appeared. “If I helped, then I’m not sorry,” she replied. “Besides, I’d rather be stuck here with you than by myself in this. I hate storms.”
“Fair enough,” Dar answered. “Besides, I learned something new about you.” Kerry’s brows lifted. “You give killer massages.” Dar grinned, catching her by surprise. “Wasn’t on your résumé.”
Unable to suppress a grin of her own, Kerry said, “Glad my skills got put to good use.” They looked at each other in a lengthening silence until Kerry glanced at her culinary selections and cleared her throat. “Right. Well, let me get to it. You must be hungry, I know I am.”
“All right, I’m going to log in and make sure they’re prepping the building,” Dar replied, still gazing at her. “I’ll be in the study if you need anything.”
Green eyes lifted and met hers for a long, searching moment, then dropped away. “Okay. I finished up a bunch of stuff, and I reprinted those reports you were looking for.”
Dar nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving her to her thoughts and the seldom-used range.
THE PAGE ON the screen was surely an important e-mail. Dar ran her eyes over it for the sixth time and still didn’t read it, her thoughts drifting off into some other realm with disgusting ease. Enticing scents from the kitchen kept distracting her, and she tried to remember the last time someone actually cooked something specifically for her, without her paying for it one way or the other.
It had been her father—cooking eggs and bacon, his one and only specialty, on the morning she’d come home to find him saucily sitting in the living room, his freshly pressed fatigues almost blending into her furniture. “Just stopping through,”
he’d said, “on my way out.”
Out to Saudi Arabia, he meant. Out of life was what it had been. Dar glanced at the picture, and felt a hand clench her heart. It wasn’t that they’d even spent that much time with each other over the last several years. It was that he, alone among all the people she’d ever known, had understood her.
Understood the competitiveness, and the fierce will, and the desire to conquer she’d inherited from him—and she had understood him, in all his complexity. His had been the only approval she’d ever needed. When that picture had been taken— her eyes flicked to the frame —he’d strode up after she’d won the tournament, and put his arm around her, and told anyone who cared to listen that “this is my kid.” It had filled her with a sense of belonging that nothing, and no one, had ever equaled. Then he was gone. And she’d sworn at his graveside she would never let anyone touch her heart like that again. Never.
But now, softly, gently, someone was scratching at the door. Someone who was as different from her as anyone she’d ever met. Her mind told her she was crazy to let it happen. Her heart knew she was helpless to prevent it.
The wind rattled against the shutters, sounding like dried bones clattering together. Dar nodded quietly to herself, and this time, read the e-mail.
126 Melissa Good KERRY TOOK A last taste, then gave her creation a satisfied look. She’d managed to find some frozen chicken strips, frozen shrimp, and two packages of frozen snow peas, all of which she stir-fried, adding spices whose seals she had to break. Then she made a sauce with peanut butter, milk, a little sugar, more spices, and some ginger. She’d steamed a pot of rice from the bag in the cupboard and found Dar’s stash of plum wine. “All right…” She took out two plates and washed the dust off them, then went to the study door and peered in.
Dar was studying the screen, the light from it washing her tanned complexion and sparkling off her pale eyes. After a moment, those eyes turned and met hers, and a dark brow edged up in question.
“Dinner’s ready,” Kerry stated.
She got a genuine smile back. “Smells interesting.” Dar stood and stretched, then moved around the desk and followed Kerry into the kitchen like a curious puppy dog. She peered over Kerry’s shoulder at the pot and sniffed appreciatively. “Mmm.”
They carried their plates into the living room and rather than use the big table, settled on the couch in front of the television. Just for the hell of it, Dar had lit a candle and put it in the center of the coffee table, and they ate by the flickering light in addition to the TV screen, which Dar flicked on. Quickdraw McGraw was just winning another battle, and she blushed. “Um…”
Kerry chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I like Space Ghost.” She watched as Dar moved through to the Weather Channel, and left it there as warnings and other information scrolled across the screen. She watched it for a moment, making a mental note to call Colleen and make sure her apartment door was closed tight. “Wow.”
“They make it sound worse than it is.” Dar commented, watching the screen. “See that guy? Idiot. Showing us what the storm’s like. Hope it blows his damn toupee off.” She accepted the plate Kerry handed her, piled with a nice mound of rice covered in stir-fry. “Thanks.”
“Hope you really like spicy.” Kerry bit into a piece.
Dar took a bite and chewed, amazed at the result of what appeared to her to be magic from the ingredients Kerry had found. “Wow.” She eyed her companion. “Anything you can’t do?”
Kerry’s blush was readily visible against her fair hair and lashes. “I really suck at bowling,” she finally said, with a chuckle. “Glad you like it.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Migraines really are the worst,”
Kerry commented, after taking a sip of wine to clear her mouth. “Last time I had one, I was in college and it was right before finals. I thought I was going to blow an entire semester.”
“Well.” Dar frowned briefly. “I can live the rest of my life without having another one, that’s for sure.”
“Do you know what triggered it?” Kerry asked. “Mine were usually some food or drink—smoked ham once, in fact.”
Dar didn’t answer, her expression growing thoughtful and a little grim.
“I don’t think it was that,” she remarked finally. “I g…” She hesitated. “I don’t know what it was.”
Kerry watched her from the corner of her eye, a little surprised at the Tropical Storm 127
sudden change of mood. Okay, so we’re stuck here with each other, for I don’t know how long. Something’s bugging her, and she’s a very private person. I should keep my nose out of her business. Right? Right. She ate a few more bites, then eyed Dar’s silent profile. And bowed to the inevitable. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Startled, Dar paused in mid chew and looked up at her. “Talk about what?”
“About whatever it is that’s bothering you,” Kerry replied softly. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but here we are, and I’m a pretty good listener.” She paused, then went on. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know that well.”
Dar chewed slowly and swallowed, considering the offer. Then she took a breath and released it. “It actually is your business,” she said evenly.