her neck. Repressed, maybe that was the word. The only time he’d seen passion in those light blue eyes had been when she’d talked about her work.
Her work. She didn’t want Gabe Flanagan. She wanted a guinea pig on which to try out her theories.
Well, it wasn’t going to be him. He almost said so, but the elevator reached the garage level, and the few minutes it took to evade several people getting on while they got off was long enough to make him think before he spoke.
He wanted out of this business, but he couldn’t get out. So he had to convince the woman to let him off the hook. Nolie Lang was just another obstacle to his getting back to the work he was born to do. He’d go through her if he had to, but first he’d try getting her to cooperate with him.
Their feet echoed on the concrete floor of the parking level. She glanced at him.
“Is your leg bothering you?”
A flame of anger went through him that he’d let his guard slip, made hotter that she’d noticed.
“No.” That came out almost like a snarl, which was not the way to gain the woman’s cooperation. “It’s healing.”
“That’s good.” She walked briskly toward a dusty station wagon, apparently not concerned enough about his leg to slow down. Or maybe she took him at his word that he was all right.
“Look.” His voice halted her as she unlocked the wagon, her square, competent hand freezing on the handle. “Maybe we ought to talk. We both know Henley’s idea is a bad one.”
She surveyed him, her eyes expressionless. “I generally find that’s not a good thing to say to the man with the money.”
He hunched his shoulders. “That’s what the chief thinks, too. But that doesn’t mean this is going to work.”
“Maybe.” She swung the passenger door open and held it for him.
Resentment bubbled again as he swung himself inside. He didn’t like depending on other people to haul him around. The first thing that had happened after he’d had a seizure was the doctor pulling his driver’s license.
She rounded the car and got in. He swallowed the urge to rant at her. Think, don’t react, he commanded himself.
“What’s this for?” He tapped the mesh screen behind the front seat as she turned the ignition.
“Keeps the dogs from jumping in front.”
“I thought your animals were well-trained enough to help people. Surely they don’t misbehave in the car.”
If the jab bothered her, she didn’t show it. She just backed out and started down the winding concrete ramp.
“Sometimes I pick up strays.” She slowed as they reached the garage exit. “Which way?”
“Go right.” Okay, maybe annoying her wasn’t the best way of getting her on his side. “Look, you said it yourself. I’m not a good candidate for this project.”
Her cool profile didn’t tell him a thing about what she was feeling. “I only said that if you weren’t interested, this probably wouldn’t work well.”
“I’m not interested.” He fought the longing to shout the words at her. “I’m only doing this because the chief insisted, and he’s not a man you can argue with.”
He was also the man who held the power to decide whether Gabe went back on active duty or had to settle for a desk job. Or, worse, a disability retirement.
No. The denial burned in his brain.
“It seems to me we’re both stuck.” She brushed a strand of pale blond hair behind her ear. “You have to do what your chief says. I have to do what Henley says if I want to get my grant.”
“You could talk to him again. Tell him someone else would work out better.”
Her hands moved restlessly on the wheel, stroking it as if it were a pet. “He wants you.”
“Because of the publicity.” Pictures of him on the front page of the local paper, flanked by pictures of the two firefighters who’d died that day.
“I suppose even philanthropists want positive publicity. You’re a hero.”
The word dropped on him like acid. “Believe me, nothing is staler than yesterday’s hero.”
“Obviously, Samuel Henley doesn’t think so.” She slanted a sideways glance at him. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
The attack went under his guard, and for a moment he couldn’t speak.
“It doesn’t,” he said when he thought he could control his voice. “I’m just saying that the whole idea is futile. As I understand it, you need someone who can prove this seizure dog thing of yours works.”
“I already know it works.” There was that passion again, flaring in her eyes as she shot a look at him.
“Okay, bad choice of words. You need someone to show the foundation the value of it.” He leaned forward. “Turn right at the next corner.”
She took the turn onto Elm Street. Thanks to Dutch elm disease, the street was now lined with maples, but no one had suggested changing the name. The May sunshine had brought into full bloom the magnolia tree his mother had planted in the front yard.
“This one.” He nodded toward the sprawling brick two-story his grandfather had built for his expanding family.
The current generation filled it up, too. He tensed at the sight of the cars in the curving driveway. It looked as if the whole family was here.
She stopped the car and turned to look at him, apparently knowing he had more to say on the subject.
“I’m not the right person to prove the worth of your program.” He leaned toward her, intent on convincing her he was right about this. “And it’s not because I’m stubborn or uncooperative.”
A smile flickered on her face, the first one he’d seen. It showed him an unexpected pair of dimples in her cheeks that made her seem both younger and more vulnerable. “It’s not?”
“No.” He had to be sure she understood this. “This seizure-alert thing only works if the person actually has seizures, right?”
“Of course.” Her eyes were wary.
“Then I’m no good to you. Because I’m not going to have any more seizures.”
She looked at him steadily for a long moment, and he didn’t have the slightest idea if she bought it. Then she lifted a level eyebrow.
“Will your doctor confirm that?”
His fists clenched. “Take my word for it. I won’t be a help to you. So the sooner you convince Henley this isn’t going to work, the sooner we can both get on with our lives.”
It was a nice speech. Unfortunately Nolie Lang looked at him as if she didn’t believe a word of it.
The approach of a woman who was probably Gabe’s mother prevented Nolie from replying. Good timing, because almost anything she said would have led to an explosion on Gabe’s part.
Did Gabe have any idea how deeply into denial he was? Probably not, or he’d show some sign that he didn’t quite believe his own words.
What if he’s right? The insidious question slipped into her mind as she got out of the car. If Gabe’s injury had healed, she’d be in the unique position of trying to demonstrate her techniques on someone who would never need them. And Samuel Henley would have put a condition on his grant that she could never fulfill.
Head swimming, she pasted a smile on her face and turned to the woman who’d come to greet them.
“Gabe.” Mrs. Flanagan had a quick smile and a pat on the cheek for her