“Always.” Partly because he wanted to, but also because he had to.
It was part of who they were. They could venture away Dreagan for a month at a time, but they had to return or the magic holding the deadly silver dragons would no longer keep them sleeping, which would result in a war no one wanted. But Banan couldn’t tell her that.
“How long will you stay in London?” she asked.
“That depends on a number of things. I doona care for the city, so I doubt I’ll be staying too long.”
She turned from putting the bread in the oven and placed her hands on the counter. “That’s too bad.”
“Is it? Why?”
She glanced at her hands. “I don’t have many friends, and no one I can cook for.”
“Ah. So I’m just someone you want to feed?” he asked with a grin he couldn’t keep off his face.
Jane nodded, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “It gives me the excuse to cook that I need.”
“Is it a friend you need?” he asked, his smile gone as he realized the seriousness of his question.
She turned to drain the pasta. “Everyone needs friends.”
“Someone you can cook for?”
She laughed, the sound sweet and erotic. “Definitely.”
“Someone you can talk to about your bastard of a boss?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Someone you can share secrets with?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Would you share your secrets?”
Banan rose from the barstool and walked around the counter to grab two plates from the cabinet. “I’ve never wanted to share my secrets.”
It was the truth, but he didn’t tell her how he found himself wanting to share them with her.
“Me either,” she said, and spooned the noodles into the plates before pouring the sauce over them.
She handed him both plates, and then checked the bread. Banan got the forks and their wineglasses to place on the table. Then he watched as she took out the bread, cut it, and put it in a basket.
Once she was seated beside him, he took her hand and looked deep into her rich brown eyes. “Thank you, Jane.”
“For what?”
“For this. The food, the conversation. All of it.”
“You act as if you’ve never done this before.”
He’d had women cook for him before, but he’d never yearned for one of them as he did Jane.
And that was just the first of many differences he recognized.
One of many that sent warning bells off in his mind that he continued to ignore.
Chapter 5
Banan and Jane finished their meal and moved to the couch. Soon after, Jane turned off all the lights save the small lamp on the end table. Not that he minded. He kept her talking of her family and her childhood. He was enraptured by her descriptions of Seattle and her life there.
There hadn’t been a time in his very long existence where he’d thought to ever care about anything so mundane as her Thanksgiving dinners or the party she and a friend had thrown for their high school graduation.
Yet Banan wanted to know every detail. When it seemed as if she might stop talking, he asked her another question to keep her going.
He found himself laughing at the exploits of her and her best friend sneaking out of her house. A few minutes later, as he listened to her story about prom, he actually thought about flying to Washington and finding the bastard who had ruined her special night.
She’d been enthusiastic to describe the dances they had in America, and though she chuckled as she spoke of her date, Banan could see the hurt she couldn’t quite hide in her eyes.
Her eyes were her most expressive feature. Every emotion she felt could be seen in them.
Even when she couldn’t stop yawning, and her lids grew drowsy, he kept her talking. Banan glanced at his watch to find it was well after one in the morning. He’d purposely kept Jane up until she fell asleep so he could search her house.
He’d always been able to keep an open mind about people, but the more he learned of Jane, the more he hoped she wasn’t part of what was going on at PureGems.
There had been a few times he tried to turn the conversation to Richard Arnold, but Jane had deftly turned it away with such ease, it always took a moment before Banan realized what had happened.
He rose from his end of the couch and squatted beside her. Slowly, he extracted the wineglass from her fingers before any spilled and set it on the end table, and then switched off the lamp.
Every instinct told him to hurry and begin to search her flat, but he couldn’t resist running the back of a finger down her cheek.
For long minutes he simply stared at her, wondering how she might be involved with Arnold, if she was involved at all. Mostly he didn’t want her to be a part of it, which clouded his judgment.
Banan rose and, as silent as a ghost, began to search her small flat. He started in her room, moved into the tiny bathroom, and then was back in the kitchen. With every area that he searched and found nothing, the more relief he felt.
He softly closed a drawer and looked at the couch to find it empty. Banan’s gaze swiftly scanned the flat and found Jane at the window staring down at the street.
“Jane?” he murmured.
She didn’t turn around as she said, “I think something happened at work today.”
“What do you mean?” He kept his voice low, like hers, as he slowly made his way to her.
One of Jane’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I think I overheard something. It was Richard’s tone. When he spoke to me it…frightened me.”
Banan wanted to find Richard Arnold and rip his heart out for making Jane feel afraid. Banan stepped around the couch and over Jane’s purse, but stopped short of going to her.
“Tell me,” he urged. “What did you hear?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know it was something bad?”
She jerked her chin toward the window. “Him.”
In an instant, Banan was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. He spotted the man on the street as he gazed up at Jane’s window.
Banan warred with himself about whether to confront the man or get Jane to safety first.