Haley sounded skeptical. Too skeptical for a five-year-old. Knowing how many times she’d had to cancel plans with Haley when she had to work extra hours at the diner flooded Annie with fresh guilt.
Jonah emerged from the locker room, wearing a clean T-shirt and jeans, his wet hair combed back from his face. His gaze swept the room looking for her, and when he spotted her, a smile softened the hard planes of his face.
Annie’s pulse missed a beat.
Jonah wasn’t handsome in the classical sense. So why was he suddenly stirring this schoolgirl reaction in her?
She chastized herself. She was too busy making ends meet, fighting for her survival and reeling from her last devastating relationship to be in the market for a man. She had no business looking at Jonah as anything other than a regular customer at the diner. A mysterious man who’d rescued her from her attacker. The person who’d offered to show her techniques to protect herself and her family from further abuse.
“Haley, sugar, I have to go now. Be sweet for Rani and eat all of your dinner. Okay?” Annie watched Jonah cross the gym floor, his loose-limbed stride confident and relaxed. Her breath hung in her lungs.
Haley grumbled an unintelligible response as Jonah reached her.
“I’ll be home soon, sugar. B’bye.” She closed the phone and held it out to Jonah. “Thanks.”
Taking the cell from her, he jerked his chin toward a nearby door. “Let’s use the manager’s office. It’s quieter. More private.”
More isolated. Her stomach flip-flopped as she fell in step behind Jonah.
“Hey, Frank,” he called to the coach who was working with a boxer on a small punching bag. “Mind if we use your office for a while?”
The man eyed Annie, then sent Jonah a conspiratorial grin. “Be my guest.”
After leading her into the windowless office with a sign that read “Owner,” Jonah closed the door behind him, muting the cacophony from the gym floor and spiking Annie’s level of discomfort.
She was suddenly hyperaware that she was alone with a man she barely knew. The idea of being alone with Jonah both tantalized and frightened her. Drawing her purse against her chest, she glanced about the dim office. The decor was surprisingly upscale, with oil paintings and a leather couch. The large desk was covered with old photographs of a younger Frank posing with a pretty woman and a blond little girl.
“Why do I make you so nervous?” Jonah’s question drew her gaze back to him. He angled his head and studied her with a lazy sweep of his eyes.
She forced a smile. “You don’t.”
Sitting on the edge of the wooden desk, Jonah waved a finger toward her purse. “Your body language says otherwise.”
Annie glanced down at her white-knuckle grip on her purse and the defensive position of her arms crossed over her chest. Knowing he could read her so easily didn’t help ease her tension.
She sighed. “I’m just … out of my element here. I don’t know you well, and this whole business with Hardin and the money I lost has—”
“Stop.” He said the word softly, but with enough cool command to freeze the words on her tongue.
Her gaze snapped up to his.
Jonah folded his arms over his chest and drilled her with his dark green eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight. You didn’t lose that money. You don’t owe Hardin a thing. You were mugged, and the money was stolen. Period.”
Annie opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came.
“As for your other points …” Jonah shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe you don’t know me real well, but if you’d let me take you to a quiet dinner somewhere, we could talk and remedy that.”
Her heart pounding in her ears, Annie gaped at him. “Like … a date?”
He nodded. “And if I’m right about you, you’re not as out of place at this gym as you’d have me believe.”
Already reeling from his invitation to dinner, Annie needed a moment before his last comment registered. “What do you mean I’m not out of place? Do I look like someone who enjoys punching a bag for thrills?”
His face sobered, and he pitched his voice low. “No. But I think you’ve been used as a punching bag by some bastard you once trusted.”
Annie’s head swam, and an odd buzzing rang in her ears. She staggered drunkenly to the nearest chair and dropped onto the seat.
Slowly, he moved toward her and crouched beside her. “Maybe a father. Maybe a husband or boyfriend. Am I right?”
Practiced denials sprang to her tongue but shattered under the weight of his piercing gaze. She struggled to draw a breath. “How … Why would you think—”
“Because I’ve been there.”
Annie’s breath backed up in her lungs. She shook her head, not sure she’d heard him right. Did he mean he’d been an abuser—or been abused?
Jonah nodded, his expression open and guileless. “I’ve seen what you’ve seen. I know the emotions you’ve known. I recognize the signs.”
He reached for her left cheek and gently grazed her scar with his knuckle.
Mortified, she jerked away and scoffed. “That’s from a car accident. I shattered my cheekbone and couldn’t afford a fancy plastic surgeon after the emergency surgery.”
The lie tumbled easily from her lips, while a hurricane of confused emotions twisted inside her. Guilt, relief, embarrassment, anger, frustration … How did she begin to sort it all out?
“Part of that is probably true.”
Clenching her teeth, she shot him a tight scowl. “Are you calling me a liar?”
He wrapped his hand around hers, and she flinched. Undaunted, he squeezed her hand. “I got good at lying about my injuries, too. To teachers, neighbors … even myself. It wasn’t easy to tell anyone my dad had a nasty temper, and he’d beat us and our mom with little provocation.”
Icy fingers clamped around her heart. Torn between empathy and wariness, she stared into his jade eyes, searching for some hint of insincerity. But his unflinching gaze shone with compassion and honesty.
Unsure what to do with his revelation, Annie gripped the edge of the chair and listened to the thundering of her pulse in her ears. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I wanted you to know I understood what you’d been through, and I know how—”
Annie stiffened, fury coursing through her blood. She shoved to her feet, balling her hands and glaring at Jonah. “Stop it! You can’t begin to know what I’ve been through! And I don’t know what your life was like growing up with a father who hurt you. Don’t you dare try to tell me—”
“All right.” He put a hand on each of her shoulders, and she tensed, realizing the
