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firmly.
    Benjamin nodded, his expression grave. “Ruben’s agoraphobia has proved to be, well, problematic for employers in the past.”
    So Duncan had been right. Ruben had a deep-seated phobia. “How long has he been like that?”
    “Five years.” Benjamin sighed, resting back in the chair. “How much has he told you? Has he confided in you? No, he hasn’t, has he? You wouldn’t be here if he had. Mr. Kerr, I won’t tell you that story or—”
    “Will he be likely to tell me?” Duncan interjected again. “Who can I ask if he won’t trust me enough to tell me?”
    Benjamin frowned. “If you have no problem with his artistic output, why does it mean so much to you to know? Your publishing house. It’s one of the new electronic publishers, isn’t it?” Duncan nodded. “You and the staff there don’t always meet the people working or writing for you in person, right?” Again Duncan admitted this was so. “Why is Ruben’s story so important to you?”
    For that Duncan had no one answer to give. Even honesty aided him little here. He sighed. “I guess… I want to help him.”
    “Cure him?” Benjamin’s eyes flashed intently. “Ruben’s not sick. Not really. Not even in the head. He’s just shy.”
    “If he has a phobia—”
    “If?” Benjamin huffed, incredulous and pissed off, all of which seemed to indicate he did care about his brother after all. That made Duncan reevaluate his first impressions of the man.
    “—then he’s afraid. That’s a little more than being shy. What’s he afraid of?”
    Benjamin let out a hollow, mirthless laugh. “You. Me. The mailman. The weather. The world. Everything.”
    “He wasn’t always like this,” Duncan said slowly, recalling the lively pictures on the mantelpiece. “He’s been outside. I saw the pictures in his house.”
    Benjamin started, jumping on his seat. Then he leaned forward in a flash, his elbows resting on his knees and his gaze boring holes in Duncan. “You’ve been to the house?”
    Duncan didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. “Yes,” he replied warily. “Ruben invited me for coffee.”
    Licking his lips, obviously rattled, Benjamin asked, “Tell me everything.”
    But Duncan wasn’t willing to go that far with a new acquaintance, even if he happened to be Ruben’s brother. “Tit for tat, Mr. Winters.”
    Clearly getting frustrated and angry, Benjamin huffed out a restless breath. Then he sighed in resignation and slumped back into his chair. “I don’t get you, Kerr.”
    “You just said it was easy to understand because Ruben inspires protective instincts in other people,” Duncan reminded him dryly.
    Benjamin actually smiled and chuckled at that, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “You know, Kerr, when Ruben called me frantically, rambling as usual, and warned me about you, I thought you were a reporter.”
    To that Duncan had little to say as he was utterly surprised. Somehow, he had a feeling any visits from journalists to Ruben’s little safe haven had nothing to do with his artistic talent. No, there was a different kind of story buried here.
    Suddenly, Benjamin shook his head, as if shaking loose thoughts jumbled in there. “Listen, Kerr. I need to think about this. Just because he’s chosen to push me out of his life, just like everyone else, doesn’t mean I don’t love him and want to keep him safe. He may not like it, but I will protect his interests and his privacy.” His gaze sharpened again, glinting like hard jewels. “Time for us to part ways, Mr. Kerr.” Duncan could tell from Benjamin’s harsh expression that he expected Duncan to be gone in ten seconds flat.
    Little did Benjamin know that because of his words his estimation had gone up a notch in Duncan’s eyes. Despite the distance between the brothers, clearly neither had forgotten the other.
    Duncan was fine with leaving. He had other, newer fish to fry.
     
     
    T WO HOURS later, Duncan was busy researching Ruben