“What happened to make you stop touching me? Do you regret telling me what happened in South America?”
He’d managed to avoid her question earlier by quoting Robert Frost. There was no way to do so a second time without making his avoidance obvious. And so…he was left with the truth.
“Charles McClean happened.”
She turned her head to look at him. “I don’t understand.”
“It was one thing to flirt and carry on when you were single, but it felt wrong when you were seriously datin’ someone.” He realized how that made him sound and was quick to explain. “Not that I was anglin’ to be more than friends with ya.” He stopped and grinned. “Or at least that wasn’t mysoleintent. But it was more like if I’d kept carryin’ on like I had been, I’d have found myself evenmorejealous of ol’ Charlie than I already was. Keepin’ my grubby mitts to myself was a kind of self-preservation.”
“You were jealous of Charlie? Why?”
“’Cause he had ya when I wanted ya.”
She turned back to stare at the ceiling. For the span of a couple heartbeats, she stayed silent. And when she finally spoke, her voice was whisper-soft. “Wanted me for a night or two, you mean.”
She kept coming back to that. Did that mean she hadn’t been shoving aside his advances because she was a rich debutante and he was the boy from the wrong side of the tracks? That she’d been shoving them aside because she wanted more from him than he could ever give her?
A part of him reveled in the notion that the great Eliza Meadows might actually want him the way he wanted her. But a bigger part of him admitted that her want of him, and particularly her want of something more than he could offer, would make everything worse.
“I wish I were capable of wantin’ more,” he admitted hoarsely. “But wantin’ more for a guy like me is dangerous.”
Now he was staring at the ceiling, but he could feel her turn to him when she asked, “Why?”
“’Cause of who I am.”
“And who are you?”
“Someone who’s only good for a night or two.”
“Why?”
He forced a grin and met her confused gaze. “You’re soundin’ like a broken record.”
She countered immediately. “And you’re being frustratingly obtuse.”
He sighed and turned back to stare at the ceiling. It was impossible to hold her gaze when she was so close. When she was so open and revealing.
“Just take my word for it when I tell ya that if ya were to ever give me a chance, you’d behappyall I can offer is a night or two.”
She snorted. “You’re making it sound like you’re a bad lover. But you forget I’ve seen the satisfied faces of women the morning after you’ve taken them to bed.”
“That’s not what I’m sayin’ at all,” he assured her. “I’m sayin’ I don’t have what it takes to be a good a partner in the long run. And if I tried, I’d just wind up hurtin’ whichever unlucky lady decided to take a chance on me. That’s the last thing I want.”
For a long while after that pronouncement, silence filled the room. He counted his heartbeats. Counted her breaths. Counted the rows of bricks on the wall across the way as he waited for her response.
He could tell she wanted to press him further—Eliza had the curiosity of a cat—but eventually she relented and changed the subject. “Tell me about your mother.”
The request, seemingly coming out of left field, caught him unawares. “Wh-what?” he sputtered. “Why?”
“Because you’ve thrown up aroad closedsign on our previous route. But I still need a distraction from the horror movie that flashes across the backs of my eyelids anytime I close my eyes. Besides”—her fingers tightened around his, causing his jaw to tighten in response—“I’ve always been interested in the woman who raised you. I know there’s no love lost between you and your father. But what about your mom? What was she like?”
“No love lost?” He snorted. “That’s one way of sayin’ I hate the bastard from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.”
“Why?” The inquisitiveness in her tone wasn’t the voyeuristic, meddlesome kind. It was thegenuinekind. The kind that said she was asking because she truly cared, truly wanted to understand what made him tick.
It was the only reason he answered. Although later he’d want to kick his own ass for the bluntness of his delivery. “Because he killed my mother.”
“What?” She gasped and sat up in bed. The sudden movement made her wobble and he found himself sitting up beside her to steady her with a hand on each shoulder.
