She’d been told she had nice hair. She knew her figure was good. She would have added a few inches to her height if she’d had a choice, but apart from that there wasn’t much about herself she’d change. No one had ever mentioned her bones before.
He stared at her from every angle until Eva grew more and more uncomfortable.
Lucas Blade was a mega successful writer with an international reputation and a global audience of fans, but that didn’t change the fact that he was basically a stranger. A stranger surrounded by an aura of dangerous tension. He prowled, rather than walked. Glowered, rather than smiled. And right now he was studying her as if he was a predator and she was his next victim.
His words rang in her head. You never know, just by looking, what a person is hiding.
Despite her tendency to trust most people, if she’d seen him coming toward her on the street at night she would have leaped straight into a cab.
“Do you always stare at people?” She glanced toward the door, judging the distance, and he followed her gaze with a frown.
“I’ve made you uncomfortable. I apologize.” He stepped back, giving her space, and she forced herself to breathe deeply, reminding herself that he wasn’t really a stranger. She knew his grandmother well.
“This is the most unusual first meeting I’ve ever had. First you try to kill me—”
“I did not try to kill you. I was trying to incapacitate you.”
“Given the differences in our height and weight, that pretty much amounted to the same thing.”
She couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body had felt pressed against hers. When was the last time she’d been held like that? Felt the delicious hardness, the masculine strength, the feeling of safety—safety? He’d been attacking her! Holy crap, her mind was warped. It hadn’t been romantic. It had been self-defense. “I think you might have damaged me mentally. All that talk about people’s hidden dark sides has freaked me out a little. You’ve made me nervous. I’m going to be passing people in the street wondering what secrets they’re hiding.” And she wondered what secrets he was hiding behind that wickedly handsome face.
The gleam of mockery was back. “I thought you saw good in everyone.”
“I do, but now you’ve put doubt in my mind. Thanks to you I’m going to be looking over my shoulder all the way home.”
“A healthy dose of caution is a useful thing.”
“Maybe, but you’ve scared me.”
“Scaring people is my job.”
“No, your job is to write books that scare people, not scare them in person!” She rubbed her palm over the small of her back and saw the expression in his eyes change.
“Did I hurt you?”
“I landed awkwardly and your floor is hard.” She rolled her shoulders experimentally. “I’ll live.”
“Turn around and I’ll take a look at you.”
“Are you suggesting I remove my clothes and turn my back on you? I don’t think so. You’re not the sort of man a sensible woman would turn her back on, Mr. Blade. I’m trying not to imagine what might have happened if the police hadn’t arrived when they did. You would have shattered all my bones with one of your judo throws.”
“It was jujitsu.”
“Good to know. Your grandmother told me you’re an expert at several martial arts. She’ll be thrilled to know you’re putting that expertise to good use. I’ll be sure to mention it when I call her.”
His expression froze. “You won’t be calling my grandmother.”
“But—”
“If I’d wanted my grandmother to know I was here, I would have told her.”
“Why didn’t you?” It puzzled her. “She adores you. Why would you hide from her?”
“It’s more that I’m hiding from her uncontrollable urge to interfere and fix my life.”
“She does that because she loves you.” Eva felt a pang of envy. “She cares so much.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t make it less exasperating.”
He dismissed family with the ease of someone who took it for granted. What wouldn’t she give to have someone interfere and try to fix her life? To call and check she was all right. To worry that she was working too hard and not eating properly.
She blinked rapidly.
She should probably leave. He didn’t want her here, did he? It was obvious that this wasn’t a man remotely interested in decorating for Christmas.
Now that the lights had been switched on, she was able to take a proper look around her. The apartment was beautiful, but the decor was impersonal. It felt more like an exclusive hotel than a home, as if someone had moved in and forgotten to add any personal touches.
The space was incredible but it had no soul. No character. There were no clues about the person who lived there. It was hard to believe anyone had ever sat on the sofas, or put glasses or cups down on the smooth glass table. The place seemed almost abandoned, as if Lucas had forgotten it existed.
She wanted to add flowers and cushions. She wanted to drop a few items of clothing around the place to soften it and make it seemed lived in.
Where had he been when she’d entered the apartment? Upstairs in one of the bedrooms? In his study?
For the first time since she’d been flattened underneath him, she took a serious look at his face and saw things she’d failed to notice the first time. She saw the shadows under his eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept for weeks. The lines of tension that bracketed his firm mouth.
She looked away and something else caught her eye. A sharp knife, the long blade gleaming under the lights. Had they been standing in the kitchen its presence wouldn’t have drawn a second glance, but they weren’t in the kitchen.
She stared at it uneasily.
There was something unsettling, almost menacing, about that knife.
She contemplated all the possible reasons he might have for leaving it lying on the table. Maybe he used it for opening the mail. Except that she’d already noticed a towering stack of unopened letters.
No matter how much she racked her brain, alternative suggestions eluded her.
The blade taunted her and unease turned to alarm. She wasn’t experienced at solving mysteries, but she could read clues as well as the next person. He had a knife in the living room and he was here alone, cut off from the outside world.
Christmas made some people desperate, didn’t it?
She glanced at the bare floors and walls. “Did you just move in?”
“I’ve lived here for three years.”
Three years. Had he been living here when his wife died? No. The place showed no sign of a woman’s hand, which meant he must have moved in immediately after his wife had died.
He’d been escaping. Running. And he was still running.
The place looked as if he’d jumped straight from that life into this one and brought nothing with him.
Her heart ached for him.
She tried telling herself his life was none of her business. She’d been employed to fix his apartment, not fix his life, and he’d made it clear how much he hated interference. The sensible thing was to leave right now, but if she left, he’d be alone and who knew what he might do? What if he picked up that knife? She was the only person who knew the truth. That Lucas Blade wasn’t on a writing retreat in Vermont. He was holed up here