“I have two—suspense and romance. And cozy mysteries. And some biographies.” She couldn’t help but laugh at herself. “I have a lot of favorites. It depends on my mood.” Perhaps this conversation was her chance to get past his gruff exterior. “How about you?”
“Mysteries and thrillers.” He turned toward the door but paused. Over his shoulder, he said, “You—you may make use of the library while you are here.” Then his voice dropped to the gravelly tone. “But do not wander anywhere else. The rest of the house is off-limits.”
He certainly growled a lot, but she was beginning to think that his growl was much worse than his bite. So far, so good. Now if she could just get him to open up to her, perhaps she could find the answers to the questions that were torturing her father.
But before she could say another word, Deacon strode out the door.
* * *
Why had he gone and done that?
Later that afternoon, Deacon strode back and forth in his office. He never gave anyone access to the house. Even Mrs. Kupps, who had been with him for years, had restricted access. Now, his house was being overrun by women and he didn’t like it.
He’d rather be left alone with his thoughts. His repeated attempts to uncover the truth had been unproductive. He kept coming back to one question: had he been responsible for Gabrielle’s aunt’s death?
As long as Gabrielle stayed in the library and the office, he could deal with her unwelcome presence. If he wanted a book to distract him from reality, he would make his visits late at night, when he was certain that Gabrielle would be asleep.
The thought of having that beauty staying on the estate gave him a funny sensation in his chest. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Instead, it was warm and comforting. Dare he admit it? The sensation was akin to happiness.
It was wrong for him to be excited about Gabrielle’s presence. He didn’t deserve to be happy. But there was something special about her and it went beyond her beauty. She was daring and fun. He admired the way she stood up to him. He could only imagine that she was just as fiery in bed.
In that moment, his imagination took over. The most alluring images of his assistant came to mind. He envisioned Gabrielle with her long coppery hair splayed over the pillow while a mischievous grin played on her lips. With a crooked finger, she beckoned him to join her.
Eagerness pulsed through his veins as he shifted his stance. He’d been alone so long and she was an absolute knockout. He imagined that she could see past his scars and—
Knock. Knock.
Immediately his lips pulled down into a distinct frown. Who was disturbing his most delicious daydream? Wait. Who was in his private area?
Deacon spun around. Heated words hovered at the back of his mouth. And then his gaze landed on Gabrielle. A smile lifted her glossy red lips. Her eyes were lit up like they had been in his fantasy. He blinked and then peered into her eyes once more. Instead of desire, there was uncertainty.
“What are you doing here?” His words came out much gruffer than he’d planned.
“I—I have some correspondence for you to approve, and I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“And for that you marched up here to my private office? You couldn’t have emailed me?”
Her lips lowered into a firm line just as her fine eyebrows drew together. “I didn’t think you were serious about resuming that ridiculous nonsense of emailing each other. I thought now that you’ve granted me access to your home, we could start working together like two professionals instead of being pen pals.”
His prior assistants never would have been so bold. His respect for Gabrielle grew. And that observation caught him off guard. If he wasn’t careful, her tenacity would lead them into trouble. However, she certainly did liven up his otherwise boring existence. Maybe he could risk having his life jostled just a bit.
“Well, you’re here now, so out with it. What’s your idea?” He had to admit that he was curious.
“I’ve been thinking over your concern about your public image. And I know that my father didn’t help with that. But I’ve thought of something that might help—”
“Help?” He was utterly confused. “You want to help me?” When she nodded, he asked, “Why?” He was certain there had to be some sort of catch. There was no way she would want to help the person that was involved in an accident that killed her aunt. No one had that good of a heart.
Gabrielle lifted her chin. “During our first phone conversation, you appeared to be upset with the negative publicity, and I’ve thought of a way to negate some of it.”
Some people may call him a pessimist, but the possibility of countering the bad publicity was definitely too good to be true. There was a catch and he intended to find it. “And what’s in it for you?”
Her eyes widened. “Why does there have to be more?”
“Because you aren’t here out of choice. There is absolutely no reason for you to help me. So out with it. What do you stand to gain?”
She sighed. “Fine. There is something—”
“I knew it.” He felt vindicated in knowing that behind that beautiful face was someone with an agenda. “Well, by all means, don’t keep me in suspense. What do you want in exchange?”