She sank back into her chair and gaped at him. She remembered suddenly what Susa had said about his having lost his young wife years ago. She’d implied that the pain of losing her had brought on his lonely existence, but surely there was more to it than that. “You mean, because of your face?”
He merely stared at her, confirming her suspicions.
“But…” She choked, unable to comprehend his motives. “Why would you let something like that ruin your life? You need people around you, you need…”
She stopped before she said something ill-advised. He needed love. That much was obvious. He needed a woman, someone to care for him and make him happy. Every man needed that.
But did she have any business saying such a thing? Of course not. Especially since she needed a man just as badly, and look how she’d been unable to take care of that little problem for years now. She didn’t even have the excuses he had. So who was she to talk?
But she couldn’t leave the subject alone.
“If I were like you,” she said, pointing to her own injured eye, “I would have hidden myself away and we would have had to close down the restaurant for the last week and a half.”
He half smiled at her characterization and he looked at her black eye almost affectionately.
“Did you get any reaction from your customers?”
“Of course.” She stared at him again. He was a prince, rich and probably famous in certain circles, powerful, with resources she could only dream of. So how had he let this happen? How had others around him let it go this far? How had he become such a recluse, and how could he stand it for so long?
“I get plenty of reaction,” she continued slowly, “lots of double takes, people turning back to have another look at me. Then I get the opposite, people who notice, then look away quickly as though thinking I must have been beaten up and would be embarrassed if they acknowledged seeing the evidence of it.”
He nodded, recognizing the experience from his own ventures out into the world.
“I even have little children making fun of me in the street.” She tossed her hair back with a defiant snap of her head. “But who cares? That’s their problem.”
He gazed at her in complete admiration. She was a tough one. She could handle what life threw at her in ways he didn’t seem capable of. But there was so much more to his situation that she didn’t know about. “Our conditions are not comparable,” he said.
She shook her head. “Maybe not to the degree, but the basics are very much the same.”
He frowned, beginning to feel a bit of backlash against her attitude. “You don’t understand.” He glanced at her, then away. “You don’t know why this happened.”
She leaned forward, her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand, ready to hear, ready to understand. “So tell me.”
His gaze darkened. For just a moment he saw it all again, the trees rushing past his window, the huge old bridge standing right in his path, the flash as they hit, the flames, the fire, the horrible sound of metal against concrete. They said no one should have lived through that crash. And there were times when he’d cursed his own powers of survival.
Looking up, he spoke dismissively. “No.”
Her eyes widened. “Why not?”
His own eyes were as cold as they’d ever been as he turned to gaze at her again. “It’s none of your business.”
He was right, of course, but she drew back as though he’d slapped her.
“Oh.”
She rose again and turned toward the door. He’d hurt her with those words, with that manner. She’d thought they were becoming friends and he’d shown her just how far from that they really were. She was not allowed into his real life. Of course, what had she expected? This was a cold, cruel world, after all.
“I’ll just get out of your way, then,” she said stiffly. She walked firmly out of the room, waiting at each step for him to call her back. But he didn’t say a word.
It only took her a few minutes to get her things washed up and ready to go, but she banged the pots a bit more than necessary. She was angry. There was no denying it. After all she’d done, all she’d said, and he still didn’t understand!
She was packing her supplies away in her backpack when he came into the kitchen again. She looked up hopefully, but his eyes were still cold as ice.
“Where did you park your car?” he asked.
She went back to putting her full attention on what she was doing, stuffing the last of her utensils into the bag. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
He erased the distance between them and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. “I’ve told you I won’t have you wandering around the grounds on your own,” he reminded her sternly. “I’ll drive you to your car.”
A captive, she stared back at him without saying anything. She wasn’t fooled. He wanted to see where it was that she was sneaking in. Good thing she’d parked a distance away from the chink in the wall. If he was going to find her secret, he was going to have to survey the wall himself, brick by brick.
“I’ll do fine on my own,” she said again.
“I’m going to drive you. I brought my car around while you were cleaning up.”
Slowly, deliberately, she pushed his hand away from her chin. “If you insist,” she said coldly.
His mouth twitched, but he managed not to smile at the fierce picture she made.
“I do,” he responded. “Shall we go?”
He helped her carry her things outside and there was a slinky little BMW Roadster.
“Nice car,” she allowed, refusing to meet his gaze.
“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” he agreed, stowing her things behind the seat and holding the door for her. “It seems like something of a waste. I almost never get to drive it.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “The only place I go is to my home on the coast, and I travel in a limousine for that.”
“With darkened windows. I know.” Susa had told her all about it. “All so others won’t see your face?” she asked, troubled by such a denial of life.
“There’s more to it than that,” he said, sliding behind the wheel.
“Of course. And it’s none of my business.” She stared out the side window.
He twitched and gave her a look, then started the car and eased it out onto the driveway.
“I don’t know why you think you should be let in on every little aspect of my interior life,” he said gruffly. “Believe me, the nuances are not all that interesting.”
She whipped her head around. “I didn’t ask just because I was snoopy,” she said indignantly. “I actually care—” she stopped dead, realizing what she was saying “—uh…about you,” she ended softly and lamely, looking away again as quickly as she could.
He didn’t answer.As they cruised down the two-lane road he wondered why her admitting that she cared sent warmth careening through his system. It wasn’t as though women hadn’t cared for him in the past. What made her so special?
“Is that your car?” he asked as they closed in on a silver-blue compact sitting by the side of the road.
“That’s it,” she admitted.
He pulled up behind it and frowned as he studied the wall of his own property. “This isn’t where you go in,” he noted.
She