“You do your absolute best to be as mysterious as possible,” she corrected him gently. “Do you have any more of that coffee?”
“It’s instant,” he warned her.
She wrinkled her nose. “I would have thought you had higher standards.”
“I’m flexible. I’ll take my caffeine any way I can get it That’s the trick to enjoying life, you know. Savor the fresh-ground beans when you can, make do with instant if there’s no alternative.”
“Thank you for that scintillating view of life,” Susan said. She crossed the room, her sneakers making little noise on the old floor. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
He allowed himself a slow, tantalizing grin. “Anything you want, babe.”
She shuddered visibly. “Don’t call me babe,” she said in that patented frosty tone of hers.
“Is that all? I can always come up with sweetheart, honey, baby-cakes?—”
“If you call me baby-cakes I’ll cut your throat.”
“It’s been tried.”
He’d managed to startle her. “You’re not serious!”
“Absolutely. I ran afoul of some street bandits in Alexandria a few years back and still have the scars to prove it. I’m harder to kill than you might think. But I doubt you find it surprising that someone would want to kill me.”
“I can sympathize,” she said drily.
“So what’s the favor?”
“Could you put on a shirt? I’m not used to having conversations with men who are barely dressed.”
“No,” he said. She wouldn’t look at his face, she wouldn’t look at his chest, she kept her gaze centered somewhere over his left shoulder. He was half tempted to turn and see whether Godzilla was creeping up behind him. “Anything else?”
“You’re not very accommodating, are you? Is it just me, or are you this contrary with everyone?”
“I can be extremely accommodating when it counts,” he murmured. “And I do admit, you bring out a certain contrary streak in me. So apart from putting on a shirt, what do you want me to do for you?”
“Stop bringing me presents.”
He shook his head. “No can do. I promised Louisa, and I always keep my promises.”
“Well, leave them in my mother’s garage where I don’t have to see them. They upset me.”
“Upset you? Why should they? Louisa went to a great deal of trouble, planning things for each day. Don’t you think it’s a little self-absorbed of you to simply reject them?”
“I’m allowed to be self-absorbed. I’m the damned bride!” she said.
He rose. “Calm down, princess. You’ve got the worst case of bridal jitters I’ve ever seen. Are you absolutely sure you’re doing the right thing?”
It didn’t take a psychic to figure out she wasn’t sure of any such thing. “Of course I’m sure. I just don’t need you and your gifts distracting me.”
“I’m a distraction? How so?”
She glared at him, standing her ground as he approached her, tilting her head back to look at him out of those flinty green eyes. He had a weakness for tall women, and Susan Abbott was a suitably strapping wench. It was probably something as simple as that—he was attracted to the sheer size of her, and it made him randy.
He stopped within inches of her, curious to see whether she’d back away. She took a deep, shuddering breath but didn’t move, squaring her shoulders. “Go away, Jake,” she said in a deceptively firm voice. “Please.”
It would be the worst mistake of his life if he touched her. He was still haunted by the feel of her skin beneath his hand when he’d caught her wrist last night He still dreamed about the creamy smoothness of her back when he’d ripped the wedding dress off her. But he knew perfectly well he was more likely to regret the things he didn’t do than the things he did.
He slid his hand underneath her short cropped hair, cupping her slender neck. She made a choking sound, but she didn’t pull away from him. She simply looked at him out of huge, wary eyes, her soft, pale lips parted. He could feel the pulse pounding in her neck, and he moved closer still, crowding her, so that their bodies almost touched.
