No way. Fire and ice didn’t mix. And tonight Kurt had been singed by the fire in her eyes.
“Things will be perfect,” she said.
“One person can’t be all things to another human being.”
“I can and will.”
Kurt forced himself to stay in his chair. The urging to get up, grab hold of her and shake some sense into her ran rampant through him, demanding action.
Unconsciously his hands formed fists. “Wait a while. Wait until you find a man.”
“I’ve already tried.”
Her lids shuttered her eyes temporarily, and when she opened them again, the transformation stunned him. He’d been right earlier, fire and ice didn’t mix. Ice extinguished fire. It also dimmed her blue eyes, clouding them like the leading edge of a storm obscured a mountain peak.
“You rejected me.”
Shrapnel landed in his heart. “You can’t think—”
“I offered myself to you.” She gulped at a breath of air. “You turned me down.”
Good God. She thought it was personal. “Look, Jess—”
“It’s okay, Kurt. I shouldn’t have expected you to put yourself out for me. You were right, I wasn’t thinking straight. Why do you think I made an appointment at a clinic?”
He inhaled sharply. “Because you can’t get a man?”
“Because no man wants me.” Tears once again welled in her eyes. “And because I don’t need a man to be whole and complete.”
Beneath her bravado, he heard the woven strands of uncertainty and disbelief.
He stood, shoving aside the chair. “You’re a desirable woman.”
“Of course I am. Hollywood calls at least once a week.”
If he was on the wrong end of a branding iron, he’d be a whole lot more sure what to do than he was right now.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s obvious I need my beauty sleep.”
He reached out and clamped his hand around her upper arm when she tried to brush past him. “I’m not leaving.”
“The couch is lumpy.”
It was back...the fire he’d glimpsed earlier. She was a paradox and that intrigued him. He wouldn’t leave now, no matter what common sense encouraged.
“Good night, Kurt.”
Reluctantly he released her.
Gathering the hem of her gown, she hurried away. The slam of her bedroom door echoed through the small house and all the way down into his gut.
He’d run headlong into a situation he didn’t begin to comprehend. He disliked the feeling, and that left him only one option—he had to work the puzzle, look at all the pieces from each angle. He had to figure out what the hell had gotten into Jessie. Then he had to figure out how to get her out of it.
Yeah. It promised to be a long night. Even longer, he realized when he glanced at the couch. She hadn’t lied. It was lumpy. Too short, understuffed and lumpy. And she hadn’t gotten him a blanket.
Served him right.
His mother often warned him of the penalties for trying to run someone else’s life.
Kurt pulled off his boots and dropped them near the end of the couch. He stretched out, tucked his hands behind his neck and stared at the ceiling.
Jessie needed him, even if she didn’t know it.
She moved around in the bedroom, the whispers of her actions carrying in the stillness. Deprived of the sight of her, his memory seeped in to fill the void.
He saw Jessie, beseeching him to agree to her crazy idea, the way she dipped her head when he turned her down and the way her lips curled when she argued with him.
Superimposed over the top were images of her looking at him, her smile secretly sensual, her fingers feathering into silky strands of hair and a spark of passion in her eyes that made his insides constrict.
She was rich and complex, desirable, vulnerable, feminine and in need of a protector.
In need of him.
Kurt shifted.
He hadn’t thought of himself as anyone’s protector, particularly a woman who wouldn’t welcome it.
Adjusting his jeans, he wondered why the hell a man who didn’t believe in chivalry was being driven by exactly that.
“Going somewhere?”
Jessie froze, her hand curved around the handle of her suitcase. With her heart hammering in her throat, speech was out of the question. Reluctantly releasing her hold, she slowly turned toward him.
He stood in the entry to the kitchen, looking disturbingly refreshed and determined. The scent of alpine air seemed to brand him. Kurt Majors was every inch a male. A determined, impossible male, her mind added.
Thoughts jumbled and tumbled, making the formation of a complete sentence all but impossible. “I thought you were—”
“Gone?” Kurt shook his head. “Told you I intended to stop you from going sperm hunting.”
His voice slid through her, the masculine cadence both a promise and a threat.
“By the way, I emptied your suitcase. Coffee?”
“Coffee?” she asked, mentally stumbling as she tried to keep up with his conversation.
“Made a fresh pot.”
Fuming, she leaned down to unzip her suitcase. As he’d said, it was empty. “You have no right.” She swung around. “This is my life, my choice. Mind your own business.”
“Always this cranky before your first cup?”
How was it possible she hadn’t heard him moving around? She’d lain in bed, listening for any sound. When she was convinced he was still asleep, or better yet, that he’d left her house, she’d crept from bed and cracked open her bedroom door. The pillows on the couch were strewn haphazardly across the cushions, but there had been no sign of Kurt.
While she had showered, a mixture of emotions had cascaded over her the same way the water did. Time hadn’t helped; his rejection still rankled. More, her own foolishness stung. She wasn’t normally impulsive and now wished to heaven she hadn’t deviated from that routine.
With a sigh, Jessie had pushed away the pain and regret, letting them wash down the drain.
In their place excitement had
