deliver the old, that-was-a-mistake-that-won’t-be-repeated speech. Instead, he was intimating… “What?”
His mouth flattened into a grim line and that one eyebrow lifted. Surprisingly, she found it far less charming this time.
“Are you serious?” she demanded, indignant fury driving her words. “You really think I’m the kind of person who would use this against you somehow?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Oh, yes you did,” she told him, tossing the quilt aside and scooting off the bed. She grabbed her jeans and pulled them on over bare skin when she couldn’t spot her lace thong. “I can’t believe this. After what we just did, you could think that I, how could you think that? Amazing. And I’m so stupid. I should have seen this coming.”
“Just wait a damn minute—”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “That is about the most insulting thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
“So it’s just a bonus then.”
He climbed off the bed and went to grab his own jeans. Tugging them on, he said in a patient, calm tone that made her want to throw something, “Tula, you’re overreacting. We’re two adults, we should be able to talk about this without getting emotional.”
“Emotional? Oh, could I show you emotional. Right now I want to throw something at that swelled head of yours.”
“Not helpful,” he pointed out, then looked around as if judging what she might grab and hurl at him.
“There’s one of the differences between us, Simon,” she snapped, whipping her head around to glare at him as she grabbed up her sweater. “Throwing things sounds very helpful to me right now. See, I’m not afraid to get emotional.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Now it was his turn to look insulted. “Who said I was afraid? This isn’t even about fear.”
“Really? Looks that way to me. My God, Simon.” She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes on him. Shaking her head, she said, “You relaxed for like what? Twenty minutes? Was I on your schedule? Did you pencil me in—Sex with Tula—then back to business?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered.
“Oh, now I’m ridiculous,” she echoed, tossing both hands high then letting them fall. “You’re the one making this into something it never was. This little speech you’re making isn’t about Nathan at all. It’s about you backing away from allowing yourself to feel something genuine.”
“Please.” He scoffed at her and that one eyebrow winged up. “This isn’t about feelings, Tula. We both had an itch and we scratched it. That’s all.”
She hissed in a breath and her eyes narrowed even farther until the slits were so tiny it was practically a miracle she could see him at all. “An itch? That’s what you call what just happened?”
“What do you call it?” he asked.
Good question. She wasn’t about to call it anything nice now. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. So instead, she ignored the subject entirely. “Honestly, Simon, the very minute you felt close to me at all, you pulled back and hid behind that stiff, businessman persona you wear as if it were just another three-piece suit.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh,” she said, warming to her theme and riding on bruised feelings and insult, “I’m just getting started. You’re worried that now that I’ve been in the fabulous Simon Bradley’s bed I might try to use that in deciding Nathan’s future? Well, trust me when I say that sex with you won’t sway my decision about you taking custody…”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Was there an insult in there?”
“Quite possibly, but I wasn’t finished.”
“Finish then. I knew there was more coming.”
“You haven’t proved to me yet that you’re anywhere near ready to take care of a baby. Heck, until you were absolutely sure he was your son, you hardly went near him.”
“And that’s bad?”
“It is when you’re too busy protecting yourself to give a child a chance.”
“That’s not what I was doing.”
They stared at each other, gazes simmering with passions that had nothing to do with sex.
“This was clearly a mistake,” Tula said a moment later, when she thought she could speak without shrieking. “But thankfully it’s one that doesn’t have to be repeated.”
“Right. Probably best.” Simon shoved one hand through his hair and said, “I still want you.”
Tula looked at him for a long moment before admitting, “Yeah. Me, too. Good night, Simon.”
She left the room and he didn’t stop her. But she couldn’t help turning back for one last look as she walked out. He looked powerful. Sexy. Very alone.
And even after everything that had just happened, something inside her urged Tula to go back to him. Wrap her arms around him and hold on.
She had to remind herself that he had chosen solitude.
“I handled it badly, I know that.”
“Yeah,” Mick agreed cheerfully the following day. “That about covers it. Were you trying to piss her off?”
“No,” Simon said, shaking his head as he thought about the night before. Hell, he couldn’t remember much besides the urgent need he had felt to get her under him. Although the fight afterward was etched clearly enough in his mind. He still wasn’t sure how it had happened. He hadn’t meant to alert her to the fact that he was aware of the power she held in the situation. Hadn’t meant to throw down a gauntlet just so that she could hit him over the head with it.
All he had really wanted to do was let her know that he wasn’t going to be led around by his groin. That he was more than his passions. That sex with her, no matter how astounding, wasn’t going to change him.
Simon made the rules.
Always.
But somehow, when he was around Tula, rational thought went out the window. Today, here in his office, away from the woman who was making him crazed, he was able to think more clearly. Now what he needed to know was what exactly Mick had found out about Tula Barrons Hawthorne.
“Never fight with a woman after sex,” Mick was telling him. “They’re feeling all warm and cozy and whatever. Men want to sleep. So hell, even talking after sex can be dangerous—if you ever want sex again.”
Oh,
