She wasn’t. Jan was slumped across the table, the coffee cup spilled, the cake just missed by her head, the newspaper scattered on the floor next to her chair. Behind her stood—him. Unbelievable. That gorgeous hunk of foreign masculinity inherkitchen? And he looked annoyed and upset at the same time, if that was possible, as he stared down at Jan.
“What’d you do, scare the bejesus out of her?”
He hadn’t seen Brittany yet in the doorway. He looked at her now and seemed to visibly relax, though he did sigh.
“She could not withstand the sight of me,” he said by way of explanation.
“That’s what I said—never mind. Help me get her to her bed.”
There was no helping about it. He lifted Jan so easily that he could have been picking up the coffee cup, and simply waited for Brittany to lead him, which she did. A few moments later she stared down at Jan laying peacefully in her bed and had no idea what to do to bring her out of her faint. It wasn’t as if she had any experience in the matter.
She sighed. “I really don’t think we have anything in the medicine cabinet that covers fainting.”
“I am told she will recover in due time.”
“Told?” she said. “Or is that your way of stating your opinion? Oh, never mind,” she added, realizing as she said it that she’d said it an awful lot to him in the brief span of their acquaintance.
She directed him out of Jan’s room with a wave of her hand, followed him into the living room that adjoined both bedrooms, and pointed at the couch there. He took the hint, though he was very careful as he sat down on it, as if he were afraid he might break it. Come to think of it, some springs just might snap under his seven feet of solid man weight. He really wasbig. And although their living room was extra large in comparison to the rest of the apartment, it looked cut down to half its size with him in it.
Brittany was still in a bit of shock herself that he was there, when she had been sure she’d never see him again. And the fact that Jan had still been sitting at the kitchen table meant she hadn’t let him in, so it was no wonder his sudden presence had scared the heck out of her. Some overdue annoyance that he had just barged in on them rose now.
“Is it normal etiquette in your country to just walk into someone’s home without knocking?” she asked. “There are laws against doing that here, if no one has bothered to mention that to you.”
He didn’t answer immediately. She had changed into shorts and a loose T-shirt when she got home, but he was still dressed as he’d been at the mall, and still had that radio, or translator, or whatever it was, attached to his belt, the miniature earphone still firmly in ear.
“I knocked,” he told her. “Yet no one opened the door.”
She found that hard to believe. As big as his hand was, any knocking he did could probably be heard over on the next block.
So she raised a brow at him. “You didn’t figure, then, that maybe no one was home?”
Another pause before he said, “I knew that not to be the case.”
Okay, so he could have heard them talking through the door, but then how the heck hadn’t they heard his knocking? She might not have heard him after she’d closed her bedroom door, but Jan should have. And why was she nitpicking when he was here? She still found that amazing. He’d actually tracked her down—but how had he?
She immediately asked, “How did you find me when my phone number is unlisted?”
Once again, a long pause before he answered, “I have excellent resources.”
“No kidding,” she agreed. “So much for thinking you needed a detective, when you’ve got the kind of access usually only law enforcement, government, or ambassadors—ahh, that’s it, isn’t it? Your embassy in this country is helping you cut through red tape?”
“For what reason would I cut tape of a certain color?” he replied.
Screeching out of the earphone. Well, hehadanswered immediately, without waiting for the coaching. Brittany almost laughed, but his wince restrained her. Poor baby. He was having a heck of a time coping with the new language he’d learned, and his translator was obviously of the impatient sort.
“How about we have a conversation without your hyperactive friend’s help?” she suggested, staring pointedly at the radio on his hip.
He gave her a brilliant smile and removed the earphone, dropping the cord so it dangled over the couch by his feet, a good guess that was far enough for him not to hear anything else coming out of it. Brittany only vaguely noticed, though, that smile of his having dazzled her to the core.
“Be at ease,” he said. “I will be fine.”
“Was that for me or your friend there?” she managed to ask him.
“My friend. She worries overmuch about me.”
The dazzling subsided completely, some unexpected bristling taking over. “She?”
“She is a computer.”
