“Did you find Hunter Brown?” he asked her as he studied her over the rim of his cup. Annoyed with herself, he guessed accurately, and anxious to be off doing.

“What?” Distracted, Lee looked back up to find those strange eyes still on her.

“I asked if you’d run into Hunter Brown.” The whisper of a smile was on his lips again, and this time it touched his eyes as well. It didn’t make them any less intense.

“No.” Defensive without knowing why, Lee sipped at her cooling coffee. “Why?”

“After the things you said yesterday, I was curious what you’d think of him once you met him.” He took a drag from his cigarette and blew smoke out in a haze. “People usually have a preconceived image of someone but it rarely holds up in the flesh.”

“It’s difficult to have any kind of an image of someone who hides away from the world.”

His brow went up, but his voice remained mild. “Hides?”

“It’s the word that comes to my mind,” Lee returned, again finding that she was speaking her thoughts aloud to him. “There’s no picture of him on the back of any of his books, no bio. He never grants interviews, never denies or substantiates anything written about him. Any awards he’s received have been accepted by his agent or his editor.” She ran her fingers up and down the handle of her spoon. “I’ve heard he occasionally attends affairs like this, but only if it’s a very small conference and there’s no publicity about his appearance.”

All during her speech, Hunter kept his eyes on her, watching every nuance of expression. There were traces of frustration, he was certain, and of eagerness. The lovely cameo face was calm while her fingers moved restlessly. She’d be in his next book, he decided on the spot. He’d never met anyone with more potential for being a central character.

Because his direct, unblinking stare made her want to stammer, Lee gave him back the hard, uncompromising look. “Why do you stare at me like that?”

He continued to do so without any show of discomfort. “Because you’re an interesting woman.”

Another man might have said beautiful, still another might have said fascinating. Lee could have tossed off either one with light scorn. She picked up her spoon again, then set it down. “Why?”

“You have a tidy mind, innate style, and you’re a bundle of nerves.” He liked the way the faint line appeared between her brows when she frowned. It meant stubbornness to him, and tenacity. He respected both. “I’ve always been intrigued by pockets,” Hunter went on. “The deeper the better. I find myself wondering just what’s in your pockets, Ms. Radcliffe.”