Inescapable Eye of the Storm Read Free

blinded
men and made them fools, she thought sadly as Colin’s voice interrupted her
thoughts.
    "Donavan, you need to relax,"
Colin chided, honestly wanting to put his colleague at ease. He liked Abigail.
Really liked her.  In a way that tightened his groin and reminded him that,
yeah, he still had needs.  Physical needs.   Seeing her slender face tightened
with anxiety wasn't exactly his favorite thing in the world. "Have you
ever been through a hurricane before?"
    "Once. Back in the eighties,"
she replied absently, frowning as she watched an ambulance zip past the hotel,
lights blazing in the grayness that had settled outside giving off an eerie
glow in underneath the street lights. It was so not a good sign of things to
come, she thought nervously, remembering a long ago nanny’s whispered warnings
about paying attention to omens and portents.  One of the so-called privileges
of having blue blood and being an offspring of a couple that had ancestry
dating back to the Mayflower, she guessed….lots of foreign nannies.  That one
had been Haitian in descent.
    "Donavan," Colin ordered
sternly when her small hands balled into fists at her side as a clap of thunder
shook the room, "step away from the window.  Now."  Waiting until
she'd turned away from the glass and took a step toward him, he continued
calmly, "Tell me how you managed to get through the last hurricane without
a nervous breakdown. Maybe we can replicate that experience."
    Eyes widening as images from that long
ago weekend when Hurricane Gloria wreaked havoc on New York City, Abigail
swallowed. "I...don't think so," she faltered while she shook her
head, feeling her cheeks heat underneath the weight of Colin Storm's gaze.
"That was a rather unique experience," she said as blithely as she
could.
    Raising an eyebrow at her less than
forthcoming explanation, Colin asked, "How so?"  Already interested,
the flush consuming her usually pale, smooth face only ramped up his desire to
flesh out her secrets.
    Clearing her throat uncomfortably as she
averted her gaze, the sumptuous pile carpet suddenly far more interesting than
anything else in the room, she mumbled, "I was...distracted."
    "Distraction is good." Colin
nodded approvingly. Distraction was exactly what his tightly wound colleague
needed at the moment. "What did you do to distract yourself? We'll just
follow the plan for whatever worked last time.  Consider it a template."
    "I...uhmmm," Abigail choked as
she swallowed hard and her toes curled inside her ballet flats. "I doubt
that's going to be possible," she denied hoarsely, glancing over her
shoulder as the building seemed to moan around them, a heavy gust of wind
rattling the window pane.
    "I never thought you were such a
pessimist, Donavan," Colin grumbled, sitting up straighter in the
surprisingly comfortable chair. Why the hell wouldn't she just cooperate with
him? "Just tell me what we need to do, and we'll do it," he demanded,
trying to tamp down on his irritation.  He was used to people following his
directives immediately.  Money and power usually assured him that his orders
were well followed.  He had learned, however, that as beautiful as Abigail
Donavan was, the woman could be outright infuriating when she decided to be
evasive.
    Hearing his roughly spoken request,
Abigail's body flooded with heat.  He was trying to help, her psyche reminded
her calmly.  So, biting his head off really wasn’t an option.  But telling him
the truth?  She wasn’t sure she had the courage that kind of honesty would
take.
    But oh, how she'd like to spend the
length of this hurricane being distracted in the same way she had been several
years ago...especially with Colin Storm. God knew it would probably be much
more satisfying now that it had been then. Unfortunately, she doubted her sexy
boss would be quite so adamant in his demand if she told him what her stress
reliever had been that long ago night.
    Her method wouldn't exactly be FEMA or Human