The wry resignation in Blake’s voice made Tara choke on a sudden urge to laugh, an urge that faded quickly as genuine anger bubbled up again.
“Stephanie told me the truth,” she said coolly. “Unlike you, she didn’t think I deserved to be kept in the dark. Why didn’t you tell me, Blake?”
BLAKE SAW the angry accusation in Tara’s eyes, and he bit back a sigh. He had known Tara would find out the truth about Stephanie eventually, and he’d also known she would be annoyed that he hadn’t told her from the beginning.
Actually, he thought, warily studying her expression, “annoyed” didn’t quite describe her reaction. Beneath her cool sarcasm, she was furious.
He didn’t quite know how to explain his reasons for misleading her. He could tell her it was force of habit, that he’d been protecting Stephanie from the less pleasant aspects of his chosen career for a long time. But that didn’t apply here; Tara posed no threat to Blake’s little sister.
He could tell her he’d hidden behind Stephanie because he’d been so determined not to take advantage of Tara’s current dependence on him, and hadn’t quite trusted his own willpower where Tara was concerned. But that wasn’t the whole story, either.
What he didn’t know how to explain to her was his reluctance to allow her to get too close. Already she was becoming too important to him. It was getting harder all the time to keep this in perspective, to remind himself that there was no future for them. How could there be, considering the way he’d been.living for the past ten years? Never in one place more than a few days at a time, always available at a moment’s notice to drop everything and embark on a new adventure, no strings, no ties, no permanent home.
Hell, he rarely even used his full name. As far as he knew, Tara didn’t even know it.
Stephanie had seemed like a convenient cover, at least until he got himself under control where Tara was concerned. Maybe he’d had a foolish idea that the less Tara knew about him, the easier it would be for him to keep his emotional distance from her. It hadn’t been working.
Tara McBride had gotten under his skin the first time he’d met her, nearly two years ago. Though he’d talked with her only a dozen times at most since that first meeting, he’d never been able to put her completely out of his mind. He was beginning to suspect now that he never would.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply, deciding that no explanation could justify his deceiving her. “I should have told you.”
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “You should have.”
She half turned away from him, crossing her arms over her in
triguingly revealed chest. The suddenly defensive gesture told him more than she’d probably intended. He’d hurt her, he realized hollowly. It was the one thing he’d been determined from the beginning not to do.
Even as he struggled with the guilt that realization caused him, a part of him wondered if she would really be so hurt if she hadn’t begun to care for him, at least a little.
But, no. That possibility shouldn’t please him, he reminded himself. He still had little to offer her, nothing at all compared to the powerful career she’d made for herself long before he’d met her. Sure, she’d hit a wall at the moment, but he had no doubt that she would find a way around it, and with no help from him. Tara was smart, capable, intimidating when she wanted to be. He’d seen her in her office, noted the respect she’d earned from her associates. One setback, no matter how devastating it seemed at the moment, wouldn’t hold her down for long.
Maybe she thought she needed Blake now, but that wouldn’t last long.
And then who would be hurt?
“What else haven’t you told me about our situation?” she asked over her shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Nothing important,” he assured her. “I talked to Jeremy Kane this morning, after I saw the notice that he was going to do the charity thing at Willfort’s estate. Jeremy has agreed to help us get in.”
“I know why you want in. You want to check Willfort’s art collections for the allegedly stolen paintings. I assume you have descriptions of them?”
“Better than that. I have photographs. I had my friend in the insurance company fax them to me at a copy shop this morning.”
She nodded, apparently unimpressed. “So that explains why you want to go in, though I can’t imagine how you’re going to get past Willfort’s security and wander through his home at will.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said with a cool, matter-offact shrug. “My question is, why do you need me? Why should I pretend to be one of Jeremy Kane’s assistants?”
“Because you’re the only one who saw the face of the man who grabbed you in that office. I only saw him from behind. I might recognize him again, but I couldn’t be sure without you. If he’s at Willfort’s charity benefit Friday night, I want to know it. I need you to point him out to me.”
He watched her throat move as she swallowed hard. He knew she was worried, but she was making every effort to hide her fear. And he admired her more because of it.
“Won’t he recognize me?” she asked, her voice only a bit huskier than usual.
Blake studied her new look—the copper curls, the uptilted eyes, her pouting red mouth and seductive black dress. As stunningly beautiful as she looked this way, he was still partial to the Tara he’d always known.
“He won’t recognize you,” he assured her.