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He looked down on her. The exterior lights were making a glory of her beautiful hair, and burnishing the golden-green of her evening dress, its long skirt pooling around her. “If it’s what I think you’re going to ask, the answer is no!”
She felt the powerful rejection. “You can read my mind?”
“This time I can. You forget, I’ve known you since you were a little girl. I’ve a pretty good idea where you’re heading. You were bound to hear something from your father at some point.”
“And so I have—just a comment. I want you to tell me.” She shifted position so she could look directly at him.
For a fraught moment he seemed to consider. “Alana, you shouldn’t listen to gossip,” he said finally.
“Gossip?” The tightness that had gathered in her throat was reflected in her voice. “There’s always gossip in the Valley, but my father never gossips. I’ve never heard this before.”
“And you’re not going to hear it from me.”
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