“I like my home.”
He stopped, caught her gaze. “Now who’s being spoiled and pampered and even a little bit prissy?”
Icy pain froze her limbs. “Prissy? “ After almost two years of caring for a baby and three years of mourning the loss of that precious child, the word prissy rumbled through her like thunder announcing an impending storm.
He winced. “Sorry. That was sort of over the top.”
Oh, he wanted her to think he was sorry, but he wasn’t. She had his number. He’d apologized only so she’d focus on what he’d called her and not on their real issue. There was no way she’d let him get away with that.
“You apologize for your words, but you skate over the actual problem.” Pain rippled through her again. Not because of her anger over being called prissy when she was anything but, but because for some reason or another she believed he should know she wasn’t prissy. And the only way to avoid dissecting that would be to force them back to their actual problem.
He dropped the knife and strode over to her. She snapped off the burner under the cocoa. If he wanted a fight, she was ready to give it to him.
“I know you love Gino. I see it in your eyes. You might have agreed to take custody only wanting to fulfill your friend’s last wishes. But you like him now.”
Once again, he was skirting the issue and she refused to let him. “Of course I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that you used something I told you against me.”
“I only pointed out the truth.” He sighed. Stepped closer. “I thought that since you trusted me enough to tell me, that I could speak honestly about it, too.”
That brought her up short and she didn’t know how to answer. Had he really only been speaking honestly? Had it been so long since she’d spoken honestly about Layla and Burn that she didn’t know what an honest conversation felt like anymore?
The truth of what he’d said rippled through her.
She did need help with Gino.
And he was Gino’s other guardian. He had a right to be concerned.
Her skin burned with shame. Especially since she didn’t want to admit any of it. He’d only been speaking the truth, but she was so out of the loop, she hadn’t realized it and had accused him of using what she’d told him. And the truth was that she still did need help.
She wanted to turn away, to run, but she couldn’t. Behind her was a sixteen-burner stove that ran almost the length of the room. In front of her was six feet of angry man.
“Maybe I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.”
He gurgled a sound of disgust. “You won’t ever be ready if you keep avoiding it in every discussion.”
His angry voice echoed through the room and she realized how upset he was. She could understand his annoyance if he were defending himself against her accusations, but he wasn’t. Not really. He was talking about her. Angry about her.
“Why are you mad?”
He forked his fingers through his hair. “Because you’re a nice woman.” He snagged her gaze, his brown eyes sharp, filled with banked fury. “You’re a smart woman. I know you didn’t deserve what happened to you. But it did and you have to get through it to the other side. Yet you won’t.”
“Hey! You try losing everything! Your hopes. Your dreams. Your baby. Your sweet little blue-eyed baby girl who hadn’t done anything to anybody.” Her breath hitched. “You try losing that much, being responsible for that loss, and then putting your life back together.”
“What do you think I’m doing here … with Gino … with my brothers … after my dad’s death?”
She gaped at him. “You think losing your dad compares? ”
“No. But when you add the fact that I lost my mom only a few months before, I think I’m in the ballpark. She was fifty-three. Smart. Funny. Everybody’s best friend. My dad’s biggest defender. And one day she gets to work, has a heart attack and dies.” He grabbed Whitney’s shoulders as if forcing her to focus in on what he was saying. “I’m alone except for that little boy upstairs and two brothers who hate me, shouldering the burden of a company that’s floundering. Do you think I don’t look around some days and want to pack a bag for Tahiti, buy a hut and a bottle of tequila and just say, ‘screw it all’?”
“It’s not the same.”
“No. It’s not. But just like my troubles don’t give me license to stop living, neither do yours. And they sure as hell aren’t going to turn into the reason you expect me always to give you your own way.” His eyes sharpened. The anger in them flared.
Instead of being frightened, Whitney felt something sharp and sexual click inside her. They were both strong, passionate, vital people. Though she didn’t think his trauma was worse than hers, she did believe he at least had a partial understanding of what she was going through. She was sort of sorry that she’d pushed him, but not completely. The score now felt even. Everything was out in the open.
But they were also toe to toe. Stimulated. Attracted. He’d promised he wouldn’t kiss her again, but suddenly that promise seemed to belong to another universe, another time, another two people.
He held her gaze. Their physical attraction vibrated between them. Their anger withered and her breath shivered in her chest.
He was going to kiss her.
She told herself to turn and run. She knew the outcome of the last kiss. She hadn’t been able to control herself. She’d wanted everything from him. Not because she loved him but because her body was desperate for release, satisfaction, closeness.
But making love with a man who was virtually a stranger wouldn’t give her the satisfaction or closeness she sought. Sex would be a cold, hollow, empty substitute for affection.
She couldn’t let him kiss her.
Yet she had no path of escape.
Even as she thought that, his hands slid off her shoulders. He took a step back, away from her, then turned and walked out of the kitchen.
HE’D WANTED TO KISS HER SENSELESS.
Darius stood in front of the mirror over the double sink in the master bathroom. He’d splashed cold water on his face twice, but he couldn’t get rid of the weird, compulsive instinct that he should have kissed her. Not because of their silly sexual attraction, but to shock her. To knock her out of the prison she’d built for herself and into the real world. Not for Gino, but for himself. So he could taste her, touch her.
That was wrong. Or it would be if that were his only reasoning. But it wasn’t. He’d also wanted to yank her back into the real world because he liked her. And he just knew that beyond her fear was a wonderful, passionate woman. Someone he could really relate to. Somebody he could love.
That
