The Equalisers. Debra Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ the vertigo effect the unexpected sensations had on her. Jet lag, she told herself. Her emotions were oversensitive. That was all it could be. Sleep deprivation played tricks on one’s mind. She knew this firsthand.

      There was no reason to let this silly reaction get out of hand. She opened her eyes and surveyed the lobby in every direction except the one in which he stood. She wished the real estate man would hurry.

      “You seem nervous.”

      The deep, husky quality of his voice shouldn’t have made her shiver, but it did. Dammit.

      Frustration surged. “I’m fine.” She flashed him a glance that relayed that frustration. “I just want this part over with.”

      “I understand.”

      The empathy in his eyes backed up his words. Why did he have to do that? She needed him to be that unyielding, distant man she’d met that first night.

      “How could you?”

      He flinched as if the words had stung somehow.

      She refused to feel bad about it.

      “You’re right. I can’t imagine how this must feel.”

      Why hadn’t he stopped at You’re right?

      Movement at the front entrance dragged her attention there in hopes that the real-estate agent had arrived and they could get past this strained moment.

      “Is that him?” she asked, hoping to avert his focus from her.

      Anders turned to look at the man who’d walked up to the reception desk.

      She watched as well. Something about the way the man signed the guest registry was vaguely and strangely familiar to her.

      Willow stared hard at the man as he placed the pen on the desk and chatted with the clerk. The way he handled his briefcase… his mannerisms as he spoke… Somehow she recognized his body language.

      She studied his profile as he produced identification for the clerk as Anders had been required to do. Then he withdrew a cell phone from his jacket pocket as if he’d received a call. He turned his back briefly to take the call.

      The way the man moved… the profile…

      “Oh, God.”

      Anders wheeled toward her, searched her face. “What’s wrong?”

      Fear exploded in her chest.

      Impossible.

      She had to be wrong.

      But she wasn’t.

      “I know that man.”

       Chapter Eight

      Spencer knew his first moment of sheer panic.

      It was a wholly unfamiliar sensation.

      He kicked it aside.

      “Go back into the ladies’ room.” He looked directly into her eyes, noted the terror there, refused to let it affect him. “I’ll make excuses for you. Stay there until I come back for you.”

      She didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

      “Do you understand?”

      The stridently muttered demand appeared to snap her into action.

      “Okay.”

      She headed for the ladies’ room without a backward glance or a second’s hesitation.

      Spencer shifted his attention to the man who had just picked up his briefcase and turned to head in his direction.

      In an instant Spencer had cleared his mind of all else and stepped into character. He started forward, outstretched his hand at just the right moment to meet the other man’s. “Spencer Anders.”

      “Yuri Avnery.”

      Spencer gave Avnery’s hand a firm shake. “I’m looking forward to seeing the space. The location is excellent. Exactly what my client is looking for.”

      Avnery nodded. “Very good.” He gestured toward the bank of elevators. “Shall we?”

      Spencer relaxed marginally. “How long has the space been on the market?”

      Avnery provided a few details regarding the previous business tenant. Spencer put on an attentive face, but his mind was on Willow and whether or not leaving her alone in the ladies’ room was a good move.

      Not that he’d had a choice.

      When they’d boarded the elevator, Avnery asked, “Your wife decided not to accompany you after all?”

      Spencer’s alert status moved back into the red zone. Avnery knew the answer to that question. He’d assuredly seen Willow standing near Spencer, not to mention her name had been on the register.

      “I’m afraid my wife got bored and decided to visit the gallery across the street.”

      He recognized that the man had in all likelihood noted her hasty retreat to the ladies’ room. That shouldn’t actually set off any warning bells.

      Spencer hoped like hell he’d only gotten a look at her back. Even a glimpse of her profile might eventually trigger some kind of recollection if, in fact, Willow did know him.

      Damn.

      There were hundreds of real-estate agents in this city. How the hell had he managed to select one she’d run into before? If he believed in karma, he’d be worried. But there was no reason to believe there was a problem just yet.

      “That’s too bad,” Avnery said. “I was looking forward to meeting her.”

      The interest in his eyes was undeniable. Maybe a little too interested.

      “It’s not often,” he added, “that my clients bring along their wives for input.”

      Definitely too much interest. Spencer’s instincts went on point. “I’m sure my wife would love to think that she had some say in the matter, but I’m afraid she’s here for the shopping and sightseeing.”

      Avnery nodded, a smirk hovering just beneath his perfectly composed professional veneer. “I find that the female perspective is not often conducive to constructive business.”

      Spencer would just bet he did. Men like Avnery considered women good for nothing more than sexual and domestic slavery. He was reasonably sure this guy was Israeli. Maybe he’d been raised in Kuwait or Saudi Arabia. Whatever the case, his perspective on how women should be treated was definitely skewed.

      That was the thing about men like Avnery, they needed a female in submission to feel more like a man. He didn’t have to know this guy personally to understand that his feelings had nothing to do with religion or tradition.

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