Christmas in the City - Jill Barnett Page 0,35

taller than she was. "I had a cat named Nellibelle. She used to crawl into bed with me, curl up, and purr."

Male laughter filled the room. She closed her eyes and felt foolish for egging him on. This was humiliating and belittling. When those men laughed at her, it choked more from her than any cigar smoke ever could.

But she would never let him or the other men know it. She didn't respond again. It wouldn't do any good to spar with him. She just turned and walked away, her spine rigid and her head held even higher than when she had come inside. She slapped her palm flat against the swinging door and paused halfway through the opening.

She looked back at the men. Some still grinned but Donoughue's cocky look seemed to fade before her eyes. That wasn't at all what she expected to see. She had thought he'd be looking immensely pleased with himself.

Instead they both stood there watching each other for the longest time. The laughter in the room died. The silence seemed to stretch out like a long road, the kind that beckons you toward a wondrous thing so far out of reach you had forgotten it even existed.

What passed between them was chilling and intense. Something deep that she had never before felt. Almost spellbound, she could not tear her gaze away from him, even though she wanted to.

This one man had a hold over her that she could not control. With sudden clarity she knew how weak and frightened and powerless a small animal must feel when it was caught in a trap.

After a moment Eleanor noticed that the men were staring back and forth between the two of them with expressions of surprise or curiosity.

She straightened her shoulders. "Gentlemen." She let the word hang there, so it was clear that was the last thing these men were.

She fixed her most honest look on Donoughue. "I didn't come here for this."

He started to walk toward her, his expression filled with another emotion she didn't care to see. It was pity.

Her hand shot up. "Stay there." Her voice sounded raspy and sharp, almost as if she was going to cry. "Please. Don't." And for a brief instant she didn't know if she was talking to him or to herself.

He did stop and just stood there looking at her.

"I came to tell you I'm moving into the flat upstairs." Her words came out in a rush.

The moment seemed to hang in the air like the cigar smoke. It was awkward and she could feel her nervousness. Her face felt hot, and her hands were clenched at her sides.

She knew the moment her words had registered. His face showed it. Now she had his attention for something other than his juvenile entertainment.

"What the hell do you mean you're moving upstairs? I live there."

"I own the building."

"I have a lease from your grandfather. Legally you have to uphold that agreement. And you know damn well I've offered repeatedly to buy this building."

"Yes, you have. Almost as often as you've cursed at me."

"You refuse to sell."

"You're correct. I won't sell."

"Why the hell not? I've offered you a fair price."

"I just told you why. Because I'm going to live here."

His expression hardened. "Not in this lifetime, lady."

She sighed. It truly was like talking to a brick wall.

He took two huge steps closer. "You are not moving onto the third floor."

She stood a little straighter, the door pressed against her back. He moved even closer, trying to intimidate her. Still she only stood level with his shoulder. She raised her chin. "You're absolutely right. I'm not moving onto the third floor." Her tone was casual.

"Damn straight." He gave his head a sharp nod as if to say his word was law.

"I'm moving in above you."

His eyes narrowed. He was not a happy man.

"The fourth floor," she explained simply.

"I store my extra supplies and equipment on the fourth floor."

"I know. That's the reason I came here today."

"Well, Nellibelle." He crossed his hammy arms over his chest. "I don't think there will be room for you and those weights and my sporting equipment and the gym supplies."

"There will be plenty of room once you move everything out."

"Like hell I will! I pay rent!"

"Not for the fourth floor, you don't. I suggest you read your lease. You have two days to vacate the fourth-floor loft. Happy holidays, Mr. Donoughue." Eleanor turned and marched right out the door.

Chapter 3

Early Wednesday morning Conn awoke to the