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“Hey, baby,” he drawled in his best teenage male predator drawl, “want a ride?”
Hannah groaned. Danny Walker. She should have known.
She’d been walking around town all afternoon and had come to the conclusion that Timber Bay was just as she’d expected. Perfect. She’d found plenty of picturesque sites for possible photo shoots that more than made up for a few dozen meat-eating plants. Until she’d turned to see those blue eyes mocking her, she’d almost forgotten that there was another fly buzzing around the ointment—and, unfortunately, this one was too big to feed to Dee Dee Dionaea.
She decided it was better if she didn’t break stride. “I’ll thank you not to call me baby,” she said, looking straight ahead. “And, no, I don’t want a ride.”
She expected him to laugh at her and speed away. She should have known she wasn’t going to get what she expected from Danny Walker. He started riding the curb, slowly enough to keep pace with her. Why was there never an illegally parked car around when you needed one?
“Bet you were one of those kind of girls that never said yes.”
That slowed her down a little. “Excuse me?” she asked, refusing to look at him.
“Bet you never let the boys pick you up.”
“Of course not.”
“Then let’s make up for lost time. Come on, baby. Get in. You won’t regret it. Promise.”
Oh, he was impossible. “Will you stop it,” she hissed out of the side of her mouth.
“Sorry, babe, didn’t hear you,” he yelled with the kind of gusto usually reserved for requesting encores at rock concerts.
This was getting embarrassing. People were starting to stare. She halted, turned, and stalked up to the truck. “Will you please stop it?”
“Stop what, baby?” His lopsided grin was insufferable. Sexy, but insufferable.
“Stop making you want to jump in my truck and let me take you for a ride?”
Oh, she had no doubt that’s exactly what she’d be taken for if she got in that truck with him. “That’s not likely to happen in this lifetime,” she said as she turned away and started walking again.
He followed, still hugging the curb and begging her noisily to get in.
People on both sides of the street were slowing down and staring. A carload of teenagers went past, hooting and honking. Was she forever going to make a spectacle of herself in this town with this man? If word of these little scenes got back to Pollard, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to see dollar one of that bonus—even if she could get rid of those meat-eating plants before his visit.
“Would you please get lost?” she said.
“Can’t. If you don’t say yes it’ll ruin my perfect record.”
Despite herself, that got her attention. She looked at him. “Your perfect record?”
“Nobody ever turned me down before.”
Oh, she could believe it. There he was, his hair looking like someone just ran their fingers through it, his blue eyes glittering with mischief and one corner of his incredible mouth quirking naughtily. What girl wouldn’t be tempted to take that ride?
But Hannah was no girl, she reminded herself. She was a grown woman, in Timber Bay in a professional capacity.
“Hey,” Danny suddenly yelled, “there’s the mayor. Didn’t you say that you wanted to meet him?”
Hannah furiously looked around until she spotted an official-looking car coming their way.
“I’ll call him over,” Danny said then started to do just that.
Hannah gave in and got into the truck.
“That was dirty,” she said as she slammed the door. “You knew I wouldn’t want to meet the mayor this way.”
Danny shrugged. “Hey, good guys finish last.”
“And I bet Danny Walker is always first in line.”
He laughed while he fiddled with the radio and she was slightly astonished at how much she liked the sound of it. It gave her a little jolt to know that she was the one who had caused it. When he stopped at a station that was playing a song she loved, a slow, sexy rock ballad, she started to think it was a good thing the Walker house was only a few blocks away. But instead of going straight down Sheridan Road, Danny made a right turn at Ludington Avenue.
“This isn’t the way to your parents’ house.”
“Nope. It’s not.”
“Well, then, turn this truck around.”
“Why?”
Why, indeed, wondered Hannah. There was sexy music spilling from the radio and fresh wind pouring through the open windows and the hottest-looking man Hannah had ever seen in the flesh was in the driver’s seat. There had to be a reason this wasn’t good. “Well—your mother is expecting us for dinner,” she said, pleased that she’d remembered.
“We’ve got a little time.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He looked at her briefly. But not so briefly that she didn’t notice a spark of what looked like real interest in his eyes. “You really do hate surprises, don’t you?” For once, his voice was soft, his smile softer. “Shame ’cause it looked good on you when I surprised you back there.”
Why was he looking at her like that? When had the mocking look turned into something else? And why did it seem as if the truck had looked a lot bigger from the outside? It’s like the thing had shrunk into one of those tiny imports.
“Mr. Walker, I’ve changed my mind. Please stop this truck and let me out.”
He shot her a look. “Does that master’s degree of yours tell you how you’re gonna make me?”
Hannah bit her lip. Why had she brought up her degree, for heaven’s sake? It wasn’t her style. But he’d been so infuriating. He was supposed to be the all-American big brother, for heaven’s sake. He wasn’t supposed to act like a sixteen-year-old brat that you’d never in a million years want your girlfriends to meet. And now, here she was, in danger of succumbing to all that bad-boy charm. She’d do well to remember why she was even in the same town as Danny Walker in the first place.
“All right,” she said as she opened her shoulder bag, “since you refuse to stop I might as well make good use of the time.”
“I didn’t think you were interested, but come right over here, baby,” he said as he patted the seat next to him, “and we’ll make excellent use of our time.”
She refused to think about what it would be like to slide over next to him and ride off into the sunset. Absolutely refused to think about it. Instead, she got out her tape recorder and notebook. She flipped open to a page full of questions and turned the recorder on. “Interview with Danny Walker,” she said into it. “Now, for the first question—”
“Hey, professor,” Danny said as he reached over and turned the recorder off, “it’s summer. No school.”
“I have a job to do, Mr. Walker,” she said as she turned it on again. “Now—how would you describe your childhood?”
Danny pulled to a stop at a red light and looked at the microphone and then at Hannah. That no-nonsense name sure fit. She sat there with her recorder, looking at him with that straight little nose of hers slightly in the air, all ready to put him under a microscope. Well, if she thought he was going to cooperate with this crazy contest, she was in for yet another surprise. “Come on, professor, have a heart. If I have to go to summer school, at least make the test multiple choice.”
“It’s not a hard question, Mr. Walker. How would you describe your childhood? Happy? Fulfilling?”
“How about wild and adventurous?”
She gave him a look. “I meant your home life.”
“So did I,” he said as he eased his foot off the brake when the light turned green. “Living in the Walker homestead can be a harrowing experience.”
Danny could tell by the way she set her lips that she didn’t like that answer at all. She scribbled something in her notebook and said, “Perhaps we can come back to that question later. Now, then, were you and your sister close?”
He shrugged. “We played it like we couldn’t stand the sight of each other but when trouble came we were always right there for each other. Still are. But I wouldn’t say we’re all that close.”
She started scribbling again and he leaned sideways a little trying to get a look at the notebook but she caught him at it and shifted it.
“What about your father? How would you describe your relationship with him?”
“Indescribable.”
“That’s no answer. It’s too vague.”
He gave her a grin. “So is my relationship with my father.”
She jotted something down.
“And your mother? How do you feel about her?”
“Hey, a guy loves his mother,” he told her. And he did. He loved his ma to death.
“Yes, of course,” she said impatiently. “But you must have other feelings, too.”
What did he feel? His emotions concerning his mother had always been pretty mixed. There were times he wanted to hug her and other times she drove him up the wall.
“My feelings for my mother are complicated,” he found himself saying. “I mean, she was always the first one there to feed the gang, always the first one there with the bandages, always the first one there with the pat on the back. She was great. But—” Danny let the word trail off and wondered when he’d started cooperating.
“But?” she prompted.
He shrugged. “Sometimes a guy wants a mother he can actually talk to.”
“You feel you can’t talk to her?”
Jesus, why was he saying this stuff to her? And what the hell was she writing down in that notebook?
“Look, Ma’s great. Don’t get me wrong. She’s just a little dizzy.”
The professor grimaced as she turned off the tape recorder. “Do you think we could pick another adjective?”
“Why? You think cereal eaters don’t know what dizzy means?”
She arched her brow and stuck her nose in the air. “One wonders, Mr. Walker, since you seem to think so little of your parents, why do you still live with them?”
He looked at her. “Is that one of the questions you’ve got written down there?”
“No—I’d just like to know.”
“Fair enough. I love my parents. But this is the real world, not a commercial. And as for why I live with them—you’re the sociologist. I’m sure you have a theory.”
“Money?”
“Not bad, professor.”
“But I thought your business was successful.”
“Successful enough,” he said. “Let’s just say I have a very expensive obsession.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You mean you live off your parents so you can spend all your money on a woman?”
“Hey—get something straight. I don’t live off my parents. I pay my own way. And who said anything about a woman?”
“What then? A gambling problem?”
Christ. Could her opinion of him get any lower? “You know, professor, you’re starting to put a real damper on this car trip.”
Danny didn’t like this a bit. Hell, he was supposed to be the one riling her up, not the other way around. But damned if she wasn’t starting to really bug him with her preconceived ideas and her useless studies. Well, he’d show her something that wasn’t in her statistics.
“Hang on, professor, you’re about to meet my obsession.”
The truck tires squealed as he made a U-turn and headed back down Ludington, then took a right at Sheridan and a left just past the hotel onto Miller Street. Neither of them spoke until he pulled up to the curb in front of the boarded-up building that had consumed him for years.
“There she is, professor. The lady who takes my money—not to mention my blood, sweat and tears.”
He wished he could relish the look of surprise that flooded her face, but he was too pissed off that she’d goaded him into bringing her here. This part of his life was not for publication to sell cereal.
“An opera house?”
“That’s what it says above the door,” he said, aware that he sounded surly as hell.
She looked at him. “You’re obsessed with an opera house?”
“What’s the matter, professor? Do your studies show that guys like me don’t own opera houses?”
“You own it?”
He nodded. “The town wanted to tear it down. I went to the council and got them to sell it to me. I’ve applied for historical status so I can get some funding, but in the meantime—” Danny broke off. He didn’t appreciate the look on Hannah Ross’s face. “Better close your mouth, professor, before your eyes pop out and drop into it.”
“Sorry, it’s just that—”
“It’s just that your statistics show that men who work with their hands spend their free time watching wrestling on TV and listening to country on the radio. Proving once again the idiocy of statistics.”
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
