Lifting himself from the desk, Cutter retreated further, moving behind the desk to give her a greater sense of security. “My apologies if I offended you somehow... Never meant to. It’s just that I can tell Jo cares for you.”
Her emotions were so transparent that he could tell the very second she began to relax. “I’d really like to help you if you’ll allow it.”
Cutter held her gaze, never releasing it, even as he poured himself another shot of whiskey. He sat, stretching his legs, as he tossed down a potent swallow, then shook his head, muttering.
“Damned shit’s strong enough to blow a man’s lamp out.”
Obviously not rank enough to keep him from lifting the tumbler for another swig.
Somehow Elizabeth didn’t think he was all that repentant. Piqued by the thought, she watched as he took a painfully slow swallow, and felt a flutter in her breast as his tongue swept down across his lower lip, lapping up the lingering taste of whiskey.
She had to remind herself to exhale.
And then his eyes crinkled at the corners, hinting at that rude smile he’d only just apologized for.
Refusing to allow him to run her out of the room, she raised her chin, returning his impertinent stare. At the moment, he was still the better choice over Brady. She had no wish to leave the sanctuary of the office until Jo had the chance to rid the bar of him.
She placed both hands upon the desk, hem still in hand. “All right,” she asked before she could stop herself, “how is it that you think you are able to help me, Mr. McKenzie?”
Cutter’s gaze swept down, studying the long, lean fingers spread so boldly upon the desk, taking in the swatch of material she held pinned beneath her right hand, and then back up to her tawny eyes.
It took all of his resolve to keep from bustin’ his guts. Most folks didn’t like to meet his gaze a’tall, much less stare him in the eye, yet here this little filly was giving him equal measure, challenging him. For that matter, she looked as though she were wishing him an early tour into the Happy Hunting Grounds.
Brows uplifted, he motioned for her to sit. She gave him a doubtful look, then did, reluctantly, moving her hand to the edge of the desk as though she were prepared to shove its weight at him the instant he made a wrong move. A move she obviously expected him to make any moment.
He raised his glass to his lips, holding her gaze as he tipped another swallow. “You have no cause to be frightened of me, Doc.”
“Frightened?”
That wasn’t quite the word for what she was feeling just now.
Taking great pains to at least seem composed, Elizabeth took a deep, calming breath, then reached out for her tumbler—not to drink, of course, but to occupy her hands because they were quaking traitorously.
“I don’t bite,” he assured with an odd glitter to his eyes. “Not usually anyway... and not too hard, when I do.”
Elizabeth blinked.
Why did she think those words held a double meaning?
Mercy, she was feeling warm again, though not from embarrassment. Truth to tell, she was feeling quite unusual. Long minutes passed without a word uttered between them.
The rat wouldn’t even take pity on her and look away! she thought testily. Most men would have been properly chastised and would have looked the other way. Well, she was made of sterner stuff, he would soon see!
Years of watching her father deal with people gave her an advantage. She tried for a slightly bored tone, along with a long-suffering sigh. “Perhaps you’d like to explain sometime this century, Mr. McKenzie? How is it you think you can help?”
His answering grin unnerved her, and she promptly lifted the glass she held in her hands to her lips. Without thinking, she gulped deeply of the firewater, all the while eyeing Cutter over the rim. It burned viciously, choking her, the shock nearly heaving her out of the chair. Holding her throat in desperation, she coughed and sputtered.
In no time, Cutter was at the desk, reaching out to pat her gently upon the back. “Takes a bit of getting used to,” he reassured, his tone a little strangled. “Next sip should be a mite easier.”
He sounded as though he were laughing at her, but Elizabeth didn’t dare look at him to see if it was so. Clearing her throat inelegantly, she nodded and peered down through her lashes at the glass that seemed suddenly bonded with her hands.
Cutter’s hand remained upon her back, rubbing soothingly. Unreasonably, Elizabeth didn’t even think to protest that intimacy. It seemed perfectly natural. In fact, as the warmth of his palm lent her silent sympathy, she had to fight the urge to jump into his arms and cry her pain away.
“Better?”
Elizabeth nodded jerkily. “Fine,” she replied, much too quickly, glancing up.
“Never thought otherwise,” he assured with a wink.
