distance. To his eye she still looked wild and ready to attack. It was his second semester working with her, and he thought heâd learned how to anticipate her orders, gauge her moods, and avoid her temper. But he didnât have a clue how to handle that hot fear in her eyes.
âWhy the hell didnât you knock?â she snapped at him.
âI did. When you didnât answer, I figured you must be in here, so I used the key you gave me when you went on the last assignment.â
âGive it back. Now.â
âSure. Okay, Jo.â Keeping his eyes on hers, he dug into the front pocket of his fashionably faded jeans. âI didnât mean to spook you.â
Jo bit down on control and took the key he held out. There was as much embarrassment now, she realized, as fear. To give herself a moment, she bent down and righted her stool. âSorry, Bobby. You did spook me. I didnât hear you knock.â
âItâs okay. Want me to get you another cup of coffee?â
She shook her head and gave in to her knocking knees. As she slid onto the stool, she worked up a smile for him. He was a good student, she thoughtâa little pompous about his work yet, but he was only twenty-one.
She thought he was going for the artist-as-college-student look, with his dark blond hair in a shoulder-length ponytail, the single gold hoop earring accenting his long, narrow face. His teeth were perfect. His parents had believed in braces, she thought, running her tongue over her own slight overbite.
He had a good eye, she mused. And a great deal of potential. That was why he was here, after all. Jo was always willing to pay back what had been given to her.
Because his big brown eyes were still watching her warily, she put more effort into the smile. âI had a rough night.â
âYou look like it.â He tried a smile of his own when she lifted a brow. âThe art is in seeing whatâs really there, right? And you look whipped. Couldnât sleep, huh?â
Vain was one thing Jo wasnât. She shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her tired eyes. âNot much.â
âYou ought to try that melatonin. My mother swears by it.â He crouched to pick up the broken shards of the mug. âAnd maybe you could cut back on the coffee.â
He glanced up but saw she wasnât listening. Sheâd gone on a side trip again, Bobby thought. A new habit of hers. Heâd just about given up on getting his mentor into a healthier lifestyle. But he decided to give it one more shot.
âYouâve been living on coffee and cigarettes again.â
âYeah.â She was drifting, half asleep where she sat.
âThat stuffâll kill you. And you need an exercise program. Youâve dropped about ten pounds in the last few weeks. With your height you need to carry more weight. And youâve got small bonesâyouâre courting osteoporosis. Gotta build up those bones and muscles.â
âUh-huh.â
âYou ought to see a doctor. You ask me, youâre anemic. You got no color, and you could pack half your equipment in the bags under your eyes.â
âSo nice of you to notice.â
He scooped up the biggest shards, dumped them in her waste can. Of course heâd noticed. She had a face that drew attention. It didnât matter that she seemed to work overtime to fade into the background. Heâd never seen her wear makeup, and she kept her hair pulled back, but anyone with an eye could see it should be framing that oval face with its delicate bones and exotic eyes and sexy mouth.
Bobby caught himself, felt heat rise to his cheeks. She would laugh at him if she knew heâd had a little crush on her when she first took him on. That, he figured, had been as much professional admiration as physical attraction. And heâd gotten over the attraction part. Mostly.
But there was no doubt that if she would do the minimum to enhance that magnolia skin,