Tasting Fear by Shannon McKenna Page B

attention back to Eugene before she lost the thread. “All this work for nothing,” he moaned. “I can’t take it. I’m going back to school. I’m going to be an accountant, like Mom wanted.”
    “You’re not going to be an accountant,” Nancy soothed with practiced ease. “It’s too late for that. You’re not fit for any work but being a fiddler now, so get yourself a cup of tea, and calm down.”
    “Where the hell are you, anyway?” Eugene demanded.
    Nancy’s eyes flicked up to Liam’s impassive face. “Later,” she said, clicking “stop.” She dropped the phone back into her purse.
    The rain was slanting in her open window. She rolled it up.
    “I’ll take you back to your car,” he said. The warmth was gone from his voice. She missed it.
    They were silent for the twenty minutes it took to get back to Lucia’s house, and every minute that passed, she felt like she shrank further into herself against his quiet reproach.
    When they arrived, he parked behind her car. So much had happened since she’d been there last, though it had been less than two hours. The whole gamut of human emotions blazing through her. She was wrung out, hollowed. Practically transparent.
    She stared up at the shabby old house, bright yellow crime scene tape festooned across the door, and started rummaging for her car keys.
    “Thanks for the ride,” she said. “And for keeping me company when we went to Baruchin’s.” And for the most mind-blowing sexual arousal I ever felt. She wanted to say something else, after having been so altered by that amazing intimacy, but his face looked closed, and the words stopped in her throat before she figured out what they were.
    She flung the door open and slid out of the truck. Her legs almost buckled. She steadied herself on the door and hurried over to her own car. She tried to unlock it, but the key fell from her stiff, cold fingers, splashing into a small clear puddle in the cracked old sidewalk.
    Suddenly, he was beside her, fishing the keys out of the water, wiping them on his jeans. He opened the door and helped her inside. She sat down heavily in the driver’s seat, glad to be off her feet.
    “You need protection,” he said. “Twenty-four seven.”
    She made a derisive sound to mask her nervousness. “Isn’t that a shame. In a perfect world, I might agree. But I live alone, and I work.”
    “You could stay with me,” he said.
    She gaped at him, speechless. “I…what?”
    He shrugged, looking vaguely abashed. “It’s a solution.”
    “But I…but what about your own work?” she demanded.
    “I cleared my schedule for three weeks for Lucia’s house,” he said. “I’m overdue a vacation. I’d take some time for this. Just say the word.”
    “But your assistant—”
    “I can find Eoin work on someone else’s crew in five minutes,” he said brusquely. “Don’t worry about Eoin. He’s covered.”
    That finished all the obvious objections to the outrageous proposal. Now, she had to get down to the truth. “Liam. We don’t have the kind of relationship where I could move in with you. Not even close.”
    “You need protection,” he repeated. “Something bad’s happening.”
    She shivered. “Well, maybe so, but that’s not the point. I just met you yesterday. All we have is…well, I don’t even know what we have.”
    “We had breakfast,” he offered.
    “Do not make fun of me,” she flared. “This is not a joke.” She groped for something else to say, but she was lost. The silence was fraught with exquisite tension.
    “It wouldn’t be much of a leap,” he said.
    “What leap? What are you talking about?” she asked crabbily.
    “From where we are to the kind of relationship where I could offer for you to stay with me. There’s a gap of”—he held up his thumb and forefinger with barely any space between them—“about that much.”
    Oh. Whoa. Shivery tingles chased themselves across the entire surface of her body. “I’ve known you for