“It’s a chick flick. I can’t see you going with a couple of guys from the team.”
“You’re right.” His expression was unrepentant when he said, “I don’t remember the woman I was with, but I remember the scene where you danced in the fountain in that really sheer top.”
“What a surprise,” Atlanta replied dryly.
Angelo was flirting with her again, although at times it seemed as if he was testing himself as much as her. Either way, flirting was harmless, she decided. Come to that, even though she’d had precious little practice at it away from the big screen, it was all but required when two healthy and unattached adults got together in an idyllic setting. In Angelo’s case, it was second nature and indicative of nothing more than his interest in a romp in the sack. The man had a one-track mind.
He needn’t bother. She was the polar opposite of her celluloid twin, the recent stirrings of her libido notwithstanding. With a crew looking on and a camera recording her every move and emotion, she’d enticed and seduced her leading man or fallen victim to his charms. In real life, however, she’d always been careful not to send out signals or offer come-hither glances and coy smiles. She considered that to be too close to her mother’s method of operation when it came to men. Too close to what her stepfather had accused Atlanta of doing to assuage his conscience for the petting and pawing that had begun even before she’d hit puberty.
Even with Zeke, Atlanta had felt awkward and had approached sex with a straightforwardness that had siphoned off every last ounce of romance from the act. He hadn’t seemed to mind, which she realized now was because for him romance had never entered into it.
“Is something wrong with your dessert?” Angelo’s question roused her from her thoughts.
“No. It’s fine. Delicious, in fact.” She reached for her napkin and blotted the corners of her mouth.
“Then why are you frowning?”
“I wasn’t aware that I was.”
“You are.”
“If I am, it’s not the company.” She said it automatically. She’d had a lot of practice placating men.
“Sure it is.” Angelo’s eyes narrowed. “I make you nervous.”
“Please.” She waved a hand. “What do I have to be nervous about?”
“You’re attracted to me.”
She huffed out an impatient breath to camouflage the truth. “Right. And that would make me nervous?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “You’re not as confident in real life as you are in your movies.”
So, he’d figured that out, had he? Well, points to him.
“That’s because I’m a person, not a character for whom every action and reaction has been scripted.” She crossed her arms. “You, on the other hand, come across as grossly overconfident.”
“It’s not overconfidence if you can back it up with actions.”
“I’m talking off the ball diamond.”
“So am I.”
“Is that so, sweetheart!” she drawled. “I hate to tell you this, but, all of your bravado aside, you’re no more certain of yourself than I am. It’s easy to flirt and throw out pickup lines, but you’ve admitted that you aren’t capable of cultivating a real relationship.”
“I didn’t say I was incapable.” The calf that had been rubbing against hers under the table stilled. “I said it’s not what I want.”
“Uh-huh. The right woman doesn’t exist for you. I remember the conversation. Have you ever had a relationship? And I’m talking about something that involves more than the exchange of apartment keys and regular sex.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “As I said, that’s not what I want.”
“Why?” It was her turn to play therapist, and if it kept her out of the hot seat, all the better. “Is your life so perfect flying solo all the time?”
“That’s right.”
“No. That’s what you want everybody to think. Most people buy it. I don’t. What insecurities are you trying to mask? Hmm? What are your secrets?”
He shifted back in his chair, his gaze turning guarded. She’d struck a nerve.
“You know, I almost turned around and walked the other way when I saw you today,” he admitted.
“Regretting that you didn’t?”
He didn’t answer.
“You don’t like it when the shoe is on the other foot,” she said.
“It’s damned uncomfortable,” he surprised her by admitting.
“Then maybe you’ll resist the next time you’re tempted to analyze me.”
“Maybe. I probably should.” He shrugged. “For that matter, I should probably leave you alone entirely. You’ve asked me to. I don’t usually pursue a woman who tells me not to bother.”
“Then why are you?”
She expected him to mention attraction again. What he said was, “I can’t quite figure you out, Atlanta.”
Her laughter was bitter. “No one else seems to have a problem.”
“Yeah, I thought I had, too. But you’re a bundle of contradictions. Strong one moment, vulnerable the next.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Maybe I’m both. Maybe I’m neither. I am an actress.”
“Uh-uh. My turn to tell you I’m not buying it. This is you. Not an act. Contradictions,” he said again. “Like the way you keep telling me no but—”
That was as far as he got. She shot to her feet, rapping her hip against the edge of the table and spilling both of their beverages.
“When I say no, I mean no.”
“Atlanta.”
“No means no!”
He reached out a hand in entreaty, but she shook her head, turned and fled.
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