Killjoy

"She was pushing me to do more commercials. I got roped into doing one for her when she was in a bind."

"So what'd you have to do in this commercial?"

"Hold up a bar of soap, bat my eyelashes, and sing a silly jingle."

He didn't laugh but he came close. "Sing it for me."

"No," she said. "I was awful and I hated it. I guess I'm an introvert," she added with a shrug. "Since I'd had this dream of becoming an agent for so long, Carrie gave in and stopped nagging me. We both gave in actually."

She pushed her plate to the side, and John Paul reached over and took a couple more potato chips. "How did you give in?"

She folded her paper napkin just so and placed it on the table. "I did a project at a grade school in San Jose for one of my

classes, and I really enjoyed working with the children, so much so that I considered becoming a teacher. I was good with them," she added, a hint of surprise in her voice. "I even went so far as to take a couple of the classes I would need to get a teaching certificate. I thought I could teach history. I didn't tell Carrie, though."

"Why not? What does she have against teachers?"

"Nothing. She just didn't want me to become one."

He leaned back and stared at her. "Avery, what aren't you telling me?"

Ignoring the question, she called out to the waitress to please bring them their bill.

"Come on, babe. Answer me. Why didn't she want you to teach?"

"The pay's terrible."

"What else?"

"Teachers don't get much respect. You know what they say. Those who can do, and those who can't teach. Carrie didn't think there was much… status in teaching. My aunt isn't a shrew," she said. "I know I've made her sound terrible, but she isn't like

that. Honest."

"So was that all? That was your reason for not teaching? There wasn't enough status?"

"Carrie didn't think it would be a good idea for me to be around kids."

"Why not?"

He wasn't going to let it drop. "She thought it would be too difficult for me."

"Ah."

"What does that mean?"

He homed in like a pigeon. "You can't have kids, can you?"

She wanted to tell him. She felt an overwhelming need to tell him everything, to spill her guts, as her uncle Tony would say.

She'd never felt this need before, but John Paul wasn't like any other man. He didn't give a hoot about silly things like status.

He wasn't a game player, and he didn't have a hidden agenda. What you saw was what you got. Maybe that was the reason

she was so attracted to him. And so comfortable.

"I don't know how you made that leap."

"You told me you weren't ever going to get married, which I thought was a little odd."

She jumped on his comment with a vengeance. "Why? Because all women should want to get married? You can't really

believe that. Lots of women are very happy living the single life."

He put his hand up. "Whoa," he said. "I don't disagree, but when you told me you weren't going to get married, you were

damned defensive about it. That's what I thought was odd. Now I understand why. You can't have children, and that's the

reason Carrie doesn't want you working with them. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes."

She was primed for a fight. She'd let him see her vulnerability, and she knew that if he gave her an ounce of sympathy or was

the least bit compassionate, she would lose it. She'd either pull his hair out or her own. Worse, in her estimation, she might cry.

She knew her reaction was a defense mechanism, but she didn't care. Staring into his eyes, she waited, daring him to be nice

to her.

He stared back. "Well?" she finally demanded when he didn't say a word.

"That's just damned stupid."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, sugar. You love working with kids, so that's what you ought to do. Listening to your aunt and trying to please

her is just damned stupid."

"But I'm good at my job in the Bureau."

"So what? You've got more than one talent, don't you? You can be good doing a lot of different things."

He got up to pay the bill and then made a phone call, but all the while, he never took his gaze off the parking lot. Avery looked over at the waitress who blew a bubble twice the size of her face and then leaned on the counter and stared at him.

Five minutes later he hung up the phone. "Come on. We need to get going."

She followed him to the car. He was about to open the door for her when she asked, "What are you good at doing?"

"Lots of things."

"I know you worked for the CIA. What was your talent then?"

He didn't deny it. "Shooting. I was a good shooter. No, that's not true. I wasn't just good. I was great. Eyesight of an eagle."

"Anything else you're good at doing?"

"Yeah," he drawled. He put his arm around her waist and began to slowly pull her toward him. "I'm real good at a couple of

other things too."

"Like what?"

He drew her closer and put his lips to her ear. "If things go the way I plan, you'll get to see firsthand," he whispered.

"Oh, brother," she answered breathlessly.

Could he feel her goose bumps? Probably, she thought as she sighed and turned to look into his eyes.

Smiling gently, he kissed her warm, soft mouth, taking his time coaxing a response. She was becoming impossible to resist.

The dazed look in her eyes made him feel arrogantly pleased with himself. "We'd better get out of here before I get carried

away and show you right now."

He opened the door for her and then got behind the wheel. They drove out of the lot and once again headed toward Denver.

We need to put some distance between us and that diner," he told her. "The waitress will remember you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. You're definitely memorable."

"News flash, sugar," she drawled, trying to imitate his sexy southern accent. "Bubble Gum was staring at you."

He shrugged. "It's going to take us at least another hour or more to get to Tyler's cabin. If I see a store on the way, we'll stop

and get some supplies."

"I doubt anything will be open this late."

"And that's important because?"

"Shame on you. You're going to break in?"

"They'll never know I was there."

She didn't try to dissuade him. She was too busy thinking about his earlier remark. What would happen if things went the way he pla

Thirty miles down the road, they found a fishing tackle/grocery store. It was dark inside.

John Paul's skills seemed endless. He got the door unlocked without making a scratch, charmed the black Doberman guard

dog, and shopped to his heart's content. She helped him carry two gallons of milk and four grocery sacks to the car.

He calculated the expense as he sacked the items and left four twenty-dollar bills sticking out from under the cash register.

"How long are we going to be staying at Tyler's place?" she asked when they were once again on their way. "We've got enough food for a month."

"We'll stay at least one night, maybe two," he answered. "Tyler told me there's a little town about fifteen miles from the cabin.

I've got Theo checking on a couple of things, and when I find out what is going on, we'll decide what to do."

"I'm not going to miss that trial."

"I understand. May I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Is Skarrett the reason you can't have children?"

"Yes," she said. "A bullet hit just right, but you know what? I would never have had children anyway. I wouldn't take the risk

that what's wrong with Jilly is genetic. So, you see, it doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does," he argued. "Skarrett took that choice away from you. That's what matters."

He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice, but she didn't become upset. What he'd said was true.