The Secret Millionaire. Ryanne Corey
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face. Appalled, he immediately went on the defensive. He did not have his hair styled, he had it cut, plain and simple. Anna had opened her big blue eyes very wide and innocently apologized. It seemed to her that the man wasn’t used to being frustrated by women.
“Whatever.” She shrugged. “At least this is one game you can’t actually beat me at. I’m a kindergarten teacher, so I’m very experienced when it comes to sharing time.”
“I never, ever had a kindergarten teacher who looked like you. If I had, I would have put off going into first grade for a few years. So, anyway, we’ll take turns asking each other questions. If we choose not to answer, we have to take a dare.”
“That’s not the way we have sharing time in kindergarten.”
“Of course it isn’t. We’re adults, darn it, and we’ll have sharing time like adults.”
“Says the man who is wearing a candy necklace. Okay, you won Candyland and the chess game, so I get to go first. Yes?”
“Well…” Zack nodded, somewhat suspicious. “I guess so.”
Anna tipped her head back against the wall, popping another couple of gummy bears into her mouth. “Okay. When was the last time you cried?”
“What?” Zack immediately gagged on his candy. This was completely unacceptable. Despite the fact he was wearing a necklace, he was a macho kind of guy through and through. He usually carried a gun, for Pete’s sake. Men who wore guns did not admit to crying. He couldn’t think of a single male friend who would even admit to having tear ducts. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”
“Wrong. I’m serious.”
“That’s ridiculous! No way am I answering that.” If he did, he would have to tell her he shed a couple of tears a week earlier when he saw Where The Red Fern Grows on late-night television. “Ask me something else. Anything.”
She shrugged, cheerfully biting the head off a gummy bear. “No way. You can’t pick and choose your questions.”
“Oh, but I can.” He took off his candy necklace for emphasis, throwing it over his shoulder. “I don’t care what you ask me, it can’t be as bad as the first question.”
“You don’t think so?” She tilted her head sideways, studying him with mischief in her electric-blue eyes. For the first time since leaving Grayland Beach, she was actually having a good time. Zack Daniels was more than just a pretty face—or rather, good-looking face. He was funny, incredibly quick-witted and an entertaining verbal sparring partner. Anna had never made the mistake of thinking good looks were an indication of a good nature, but she did appreciate the diversion. What woman wouldn’t? “I’m going to enjoy this,” she said, rubbing her hands together with great anticipation. “Okay, I’ll take pity on you and ask you another question. When was the last time you lied?”
Zack winced. Actually, the last time he’d lied had been about two hours earlier, when he’d told her how upset he was that they were locked in the basement. “Having sharing time was a bad idea. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to play anymore.”
“Don’t be such a chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken, I’m a dignified male who refuses to look stupid.” He paused, giving her an “I dare you to make me” look. “Keep this up and I’m going to start chipping away at the concrete wall with my pocketknife to escape from here. You’re a threat to my masculinity, do you know that? And I’ve only known you for—” he consulted his watch “—one hour and fifty-five minutes. You’re scary.”
Anna laughed, throwing back her head and slapping her palms on her jeans-clad thighs. “And you’re easy. Round one goes to me. Finally I win at something.”
Zack opened his mouth to deliver a delightfully witty comeback, then promptly forgot the words. She made a heart-stopping picture, this vibrant, light-filled creature with soul-piercing eyes and clouds of bright hair swirling around her shoulders. Her sweater was tight enough to show she was a woman and loose enough to show she was a lady. His eyes slid over the entire fetching picture, lingering on her shoeless feet. Here was another surprise. Her black stockings were shot through with glittering silver question marks. And her toes curled when she laughed. She was an original.
He sighed heavily, for the moment giving up on being witty. He was certainly man enough to show he wasn’t immune to her extraordinary charm. Besides, he wanted to further distract her from sharing time. “I have to tell you something,” he said, tilting his head sideways in a pantomime of thoughtful consideration. “You are definitely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life.”
She lifted her eyebrows curiously, as if waiting for him to make his point.
“That was a compliment,” Zack explained, in the tone of one speaking to the mentally impaired. Never had he experienced so much trouble trying to get into a little trouble. “What is it with you? You never react to anything quite the way I expect.”
She shrugged, finishing off the last surviving gummy bears. “Who says how someone should react to things? I have this friend named Frank, and he has the most amazing analytical mind. He always tells me the world would be a much saner place if people acted and not reacted. It makes sense, don’t you think?”
“Frank?” Zack said, reacting for all he was worth. “Who is Frank?”
“I told you, he’s my friend. He’s a judge, so you can imagine how interesting he is. When he sits on the bench, he looks just like an avenging angel, with his black robe and silver hair.”
“Silver hair?” Zack seized on that one immediately. “Then he’s old?”
Anna frowned at him. “No, he just has prematurely silver hair. It’s beautiful. As I was saying, Frank contends that emotions are something to be governed, not something that governs us. He talks like that, kind of stuffy. But he’s fascinating to listen to, and the stories he tells—”
“I don’t like Frank,” Zack told her, sounding a little stuffy himself. “I don’t want to talk about Frank. If I had a really ugly dog, I would name him Frank.”
“You don’t even know Frank. I swear, you’re just like Davy.”
“Oh, hell.” Zack stood up, mentally adding frustrating to the list of words that described this surprising woman. “And Davy would be…?
“Davy is also a friend. He’s what you would call a man’s man, someone who lives for hunting season and fishing season and any other manly season you can think of. He also likes to climb very high mountains. My point is, like you, he has a tendency to—”
“Don’t you have any friends who are women?”
“Not many, actually. My father was a high school football coach. The players were always coming to the house. I met some of my best friends that way. Anyway, when Davy isn’t off hunting elk or climbing mountains, he takes his shirt off and models for covers of romance novels. You might have seen his picture.”
The light of battle flared in Zack’s eyes. “Are you suggesting I read romance novels?”
“No, although I don’t know why that would bother you. The point I am trying to make—”
“Wait a minute,” said Zack. “Do I look like a model to you?”
“This is ridiculous. Will you put a lid on your testosterone and listen? Like many macho men, Davy is someone who has been known to react emotionally rather than think things through.”
A tiny muscle went tic-tic-tic in Zack’s hard brown cheek. “Well, I am not someone who reacts emotionally. I am in complete control of myself at any given moment. Cool, calm and collected. Ask my buddies how well I discipline my emotions if you don’t believe me.”
“I see,” she said in a sweet voice. “You never do anything impulsively.”
“I’m