“Granted,” he allowed. “But in order for you to do it ‘your way,’ you’re forgetting one thing. You have to be alive to do it.”
“Well, that’s where you come in, isn’t it?” she questioned. “You’re the one who’s supposed to keep me alive, remember?”
He shook his head. She was a Cavanaugh all right, if only by marriage.
“It would be a lot easier on me if you weren’t standing on the tips of your toes, balancing on a narrow ledge, waving your arms and acting as if you didn’t realize that you’re calling attention to yourself and behaving like a perfect target,” he told her.
“Good point. I will definitely try to refrain from waving my arms,” she told him, all the while keeping a straight face.
He didn’t believe her for a minute. She was going to continue doing what she was doing, but short of tying the woman up, he knew there was nothing he could do about it—except be there for her when the need and the situation arose.
Chapter 11
“Well,” Krys said, pushing herself away from the table, “that was great, but I’ve got work to do. Be sure to thank your brother for the less-than-nutritious dinner,” she said with a grin as she closed the lid on the practically empty pizza box.
Morgan nodded, getting up from the table as well. He picked up her plate, placed it on top of his and took both of them to the sink. “This work isn’t going to take you out of the house, is it?” he asked as he rinsed off the two plates.
She watched as he took a sponge and applied it to each of the plates. “Not tonight,” she answered, then raised her eyes to his face. “Why?”
“Because I’d be going with you if that was the case,” he told her. Leaving the plates on the rack, he dried off his hands with the dish towel.
“Well, you can stay put for now. Tonight I’m going over the notes I took while Peters was pontificating to me and see what, if anything, I can use for my article.”
“What about the notes I took?” he asked, folding the dish towel into thirds and slipping it over the handle on the oven.
She didn’t understand. “Your notes?” she asked.
“Yes, the ones I took,” he reminded her. There was still no sign of comprehension on her face. “I was supposed to be your assistant, remember?”
“I remember.” But she didn’t act as if she was enlightened. “You really took notes?” Krys asked him, surprised.
Morgan still didn’t see what the big mystery was. “I thought you wanted me to be believable.”
“I did,” she agreed, “but I just thought you were writing gibberish on the pad, you know, to sell the part of my assistant.”
“No, not gibberish,” he said, then explained why he’d written down actual thoughts. “On the slim chance that Peters might be involved in some sort of conspiracy to get you out of the picture, I listened to what he had to say and took notes. That was just in case he wound up accidentally letting something useful slip—although, from the sound of it, it was far more likely that he just enjoyed hearing himself talk.”
She sorted through what Morgan had just told her and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to go through whatever he felt was important enough to jot down.
“Now that I think about it, sure,” she told him. “I would be interested in seeing your notes.”
Morgan looked around the area for the legal pad he had brought in with him. Seeing it lying on the sofa, he crossed over to the light gray piece of furniture, picked it up and brought it over to her.
“Here,” he said, holding the pad out to Krys.
Taking it from him, she quickly skimmed over the more than two pages of writing. It did make sense, she realized.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’ll be sure to read it more carefully.” She raised her eyes to his. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he told her. “I’ve got ways to stay busy.”
Krys was definitely curious about exactly what he intended to do, but since Morgan didn’t seem like he wanted to elaborate, for now she just kept her questions to herself.
Taking her laptop over to the corner desk that she had set up as her work area, Krys started writing. Within moments, she was completely immersed in her work. She carefully waded through this latest interview and compared it to the content within her other interviews.
What she was looking for was not a narrative but to see if what the various researchers had said wound up contradicting one another or confirming the details.
For the most part, Krys was focused on her work, but she did find it difficult to concentrate because her mind kept insisting on returning to the striking, handsome man who had set himself up at the kitchen counter with a tall glass of sparkling water. Whenever she slanted a glance in his direction, he appeared to be sitting at ease and nonchalantly taking everything in.
C’mon, Krys, stop letting your mind drift. This damn thing isn’t going to write itself and you’re not getting paid for procrastinating like this. Eyes on the prize, Kowalski, she silently lectured herself.
Finally, it had somehow gotten to be three hours later. Her bright blue eyes were a little less bright. They were also burning and threatening to shut at any moment. With a weary sigh, she saved her work and then shut down her laptop.
“Problem?”
Krys nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t realized that he was standing right over her.
“You sighed,” he explained when she looked at him as if he were some sort of a ghost, hovering over her.
Taking a breath, she willed her heart to calm down. “I feel like I’m missing something,” she explained, nodding at the closed laptop. “Something that’s right out there in plain sight, mocking me.”
In his opinion, she was pushing herself too
