headed for the stairs, back straight and stiff, walking almost normally.
She hurried to catch up and reached to grab his shoulder. “Wait.”
The heat of him radiated through the material of his shirt, and his muscles were tense and bunched beneath her touch. He stopped and turned, forcing her to drop her hand. His dark brows were drawn low over his piercing eyes, and his expression held something dark and forbidding. “What?”
She forced herself to stand up to him when she wanted to fall back a step. “Look, I said I was sorry. It’s just…this is weird for me. I don’t like it.”
His lips twisted. “I’m not a big fan of attempted murder, either, especially when I’m the target.”
She blew out a breath. “It’s not just that. It’s this whole situation. You’re not actually planning on shadowing me for the next six and a half days, are you? I mean, I don’t spend that much time with anyone. You hardly know me.”
“I know enough,” he said. “Meg Corning, daughter of Felicity and Robert Corning, divorced. Your mother is married to the president of TCR Pharmaceuticals. Your father, who raised you from the age of five when your mother left, won a Nobel Prize a few years ago for his early work on gene therapy.
“In an act of teenage rebellion you left home at eighteen and hitched your way around the globe, working your way from one extreme sport to the next.” His eyes were unreadable as he continued. “You had at least two serious relationships during that time—one with a skydiver, one with a scientist, neither lasting more than six months. You resurfacedin grad school at twenty-five and swore you’d prove that fetal cells circulate in the maternal bloodstream. It sounded like another extreme sport, only extreme science this time around. But to everyone’s surprise, you actually succeeded, and hit the cover of Science magazine with your first major paper on Noninvasive Prenatal Testing. Since then, you’ve settled down and focused on perfecting the technique.”
When he paused, she gritted her teeth. “Are you done?”
“Not quite.” Now he looked at her, and those piercing eyes seemed to cut through to her core. “You live alone in a town house near Beacon Hill, you don’t date, and you joined a gym last winter. You attend yoga classes three times a week and climbing classes every Friday night.”
A chill worked its way through her. “Are you trying to tick me off or freak me out?”
He looked away. “Maybe a bit of both. I want to make sure you understand how easy it is to get that sort of information if you don’t mind paying.”
Meg stalled as fear tangled around resentment in her chest. Resentment won. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t mind paying, whether or not something’s for sale.” She frowned. “I don’t suppose you want to return the favor and give me the thirty-second version of Erik Falco? Since you’re threatening to shadow me for the next six-plus days, it seems only fair that I know something about you.”
His expression closed suddenly, becoming blank.Impenetrable. “What I want known is public record. The rest is private.”
“Which tells me exactly nothing.”
He took a breath and glanced around, a not-so-subtle reminder that they were standing in the Boston General elevator lobby. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Let’s not,” she countered, knowing she was being petty, but damn tired of letting circumstances push her around. “I’d like to know who’s looking over my shoulder.”
He gritted his teeth. “Fine. My name is Erik Charles Falco. I’m thirty-eight, I’m single, and I’m looking to stay that way.”
“There you are!” a female voice broke in, and suddenly Raine Montgomery was between them. Dark hollows beneath her eyes spoke of a sleepless night, but her expression brightened when she ranged herself beside Erik and touched his sleeve. “Are you coming up with me?”
He stared at her for a moment as though he barely
She hurried to catch up and reached to grab his shoulder. “Wait.”
The heat of him radiated through the material of his shirt, and his muscles were tense and bunched beneath her touch. He stopped and turned, forcing her to drop her hand. His dark brows were drawn low over his piercing eyes, and his expression held something dark and forbidding. “What?”
She forced herself to stand up to him when she wanted to fall back a step. “Look, I said I was sorry. It’s just…this is weird for me. I don’t like it.”
His lips twisted. “I’m not a big fan of attempted murder, either, especially when I’m the target.”
She blew out a breath. “It’s not just that. It’s this whole situation. You’re not actually planning on shadowing me for the next six and a half days, are you? I mean, I don’t spend that much time with anyone. You hardly know me.”
“I know enough,” he said. “Meg Corning, daughter of Felicity and Robert Corning, divorced. Your mother is married to the president of TCR Pharmaceuticals. Your father, who raised you from the age of five when your mother left, won a Nobel Prize a few years ago for his early work on gene therapy.
“In an act of teenage rebellion you left home at eighteen and hitched your way around the globe, working your way from one extreme sport to the next.” His eyes were unreadable as he continued. “You had at least two serious relationships during that time—one with a skydiver, one with a scientist, neither lasting more than six months. You resurfacedin grad school at twenty-five and swore you’d prove that fetal cells circulate in the maternal bloodstream. It sounded like another extreme sport, only extreme science this time around. But to everyone’s surprise, you actually succeeded, and hit the cover of Science magazine with your first major paper on Noninvasive Prenatal Testing. Since then, you’ve settled down and focused on perfecting the technique.”
When he paused, she gritted her teeth. “Are you done?”
“Not quite.” Now he looked at her, and those piercing eyes seemed to cut through to her core. “You live alone in a town house near Beacon Hill, you don’t date, and you joined a gym last winter. You attend yoga classes three times a week and climbing classes every Friday night.”
A chill worked its way through her. “Are you trying to tick me off or freak me out?”
He looked away. “Maybe a bit of both. I want to make sure you understand how easy it is to get that sort of information if you don’t mind paying.”
Meg stalled as fear tangled around resentment in her chest. Resentment won. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t mind paying, whether or not something’s for sale.” She frowned. “I don’t suppose you want to return the favor and give me the thirty-second version of Erik Falco? Since you’re threatening to shadow me for the next six-plus days, it seems only fair that I know something about you.”
His expression closed suddenly, becoming blank.Impenetrable. “What I want known is public record. The rest is private.”
“Which tells me exactly nothing.”
He took a breath and glanced around, a not-so-subtle reminder that they were standing in the Boston General elevator lobby. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Let’s not,” she countered, knowing she was being petty, but damn tired of letting circumstances push her around. “I’d like to know who’s looking over my shoulder.”
He gritted his teeth. “Fine. My name is Erik Charles Falco. I’m thirty-eight, I’m single, and I’m looking to stay that way.”
“There you are!” a female voice broke in, and suddenly Raine Montgomery was between them. Dark hollows beneath her eyes spoke of a sleepless night, but her expression brightened when she ranged herself beside Erik and touched his sleeve. “Are you coming up with me?”
He stared at her for a moment as though he barely
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