Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(20)
Striker lifted a brow. She’d deciphered that after eavesdropping on his conversation? “Yes, he’s more than my boss. He’s a friend. A good friend.”
“What’s wrong with him? Is he ill or something?”
Taking a sip of his coffee, Striker felt his neck get warm. She was asking too many damn questions. “What makes you think that?”
“You told him to get some rest. What’s wrong with him?”
There was no way he would tell her that Roland was recuperating from a gunshot wound. Instead he said, “He’s a little under the weather.”
“In that case, why would he take the time to call? He doesn’t think you can handle this assignment?”
Striker frowned. “Roland knows I can handle things. Once in a while he likes to be kept in the loop. My goal is to keep you alive.”
She leaned over the table. Something flashed in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. Fear. “That’s it, isn’t it?” she asked him quietly. Almost too quietly, to the point he had to strain to hear her. “You know for certain I’m on the assassin’s list.”
He sighed. “You were in the courtroom that day, so you’ve always been on his list, Margo.”
She slanted him an annoyed look. “You know what I mean. You think I might be next.”
Striker wondered where in the hell she had gotten that idea. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel frightened. A frightened person had a tendency to let fear control them and the first thing to go was their common sense. A lack of common sense could bring on mistakes. Costly ones. What he wanted was for her to be alert and cautious.
“Hold on, Margo. All I know is that two jurors have lost their lives, but I don’t know anything about you being next. All I’m doing is taking precautions. Don’t start freaking out on me.”
She stiffened. “I won’t.”
“Good.” He checked his watch, deciding to change the subject. Hopefully Claudine would be on time and keep Margo occupied while he talked to Stonewall. He’d gotten his friend’s text request that he call. Had it been of major importance, Stonewall would have called him instead of texting, but Striker couldn’t help wondering what Stonewall wanted.
He moved over to the coffeepot to pour another cup. “So, Margo, since you’ve asked a lot of questions of me, I have a few for you.”
What on earth did he want to ask her? Margo wondered. She twisted in her chair and studied him while he poured his coffee. Even from the back the man was very impressive. She’d never been a woman who enjoyed checking out a man’s backside until now. He was definitely a hottie by any woman’s standards. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when he shifted to reach for the container of sugar. Heat she’d tried keeping at bay was now flooding her. All she could do was sit there, totally mesmerized by him. No man should be as handsome as Striker or as ornery. Or was it that she had the ability to bring out the touchiness in him?
Moments later he rejoined her at the table.
“Why would you want to ask me any questions?” she asked him.
“Trust me, I have my reasons.”
She couldn’t help wondering what those reasons were. There was only one way to find out. “So what are your questions?”
Margo couldn’t help staring into his eyes while thinking how gorgeous they were. Her gaze shifted from his eyes to his mouth. Not for the first time, she thought he had a pair of lips that were downright sensuous.
“It’s not that this isn’t a nice community, but you’re wealthy. Why not live in one of those pricey penthouses in Cumberland Landing? And why are you self-employed and not running one of your family’s foundations?”
Margo pushed her fingers through her hair while thinking it wouldn’t be the first time someone had asked her that. “I went to college to become a fashion designer and I enjoy what I do. I worked with a major designer in New York for a while, but all the politics it took to move ahead turned me off. I like being my own boss and answering to no one. I guess you can say I work better by myself.”
She took a sip of her coffee and continued, “And this house suits me just fine and is just what I need. It’s my belief that just because a person has money, there’s no reason to flaunt it or use it unnecessarily.” That was one of the reasons she’d canceled her memberships at several of the country clubs. She’d discovered that some people with money could be total snobs.
“And what did Scotty think of you being loaded?”
“Scott,” she said, placing emphasis on the name he was intentionally getting wrong, “didn’t think anything about it because he didn’t know. I never told him my financial worth. I saw no reason to do so. It wasn’t about my money but about me.” At least it should have been, she thought. However, with Scott, it was about his money and how appreciative she should be that he made so much of it.
“Do you think the two of you will get back together?”
Margo couldn’t help wondering why Striker would want to know if there was a chance she and Scott would get back together. But then, he might think he had a right to ask since she’d just finished delving into his personal life. “No. There’s no way Scott and I will ever get back together and he knows my position.” And he hadn’t liked it. Scott quit women. They didn’t quit him. His ego had gotten more than bruised, but, as far as she was concerned, that wasn’t her problem. She had refused to take any more of his chauvinistic ways. In addition to that, he had begun spending less and less time with her.