“What do you meanwhy? Someone shot at you. Your life is at risk—”
“I’m touched by your concern for my welfare. But there’s something else, another reason, isn’t there?” Beneath his piercing gaze, she found herself squirming. “Spit it out, Miss Kent, or I will drag it out of you.”
She huffed out a breath. “Idocare whether you live or die—God knows why. But, yes, my plan does benefit us both. I tried to explain this to you last time, but you wouldn’t give me a chance—”
“Explain now.”
“By assisting in your case, I will prove to my brother that I am capable of doing investigative work. Joining Kent and Associates is my calling, and I’m going to fulfill it one way or another.” With a touch of defiance, she added, “What do you think?”
“You don’t want to know,” he grated out.
***
He’dknownthe chit had something up her sleeve.
Alaric fought to control his anger at being manipulated. Cooking him stew, acting so concerned, being so sweet—all of it was a ploy. She was as cunning as all the females he’d known. To think, he’d been touched that she seemed to care...
His gut balled as he thought of Laura. How he’d fallen for her words of love. After their wedding, her adoring whispers had warped into insistent demands for his attention. No matter how much he gave, it had never been enough. She’d goaded him, tried to make him jealous, bedded one man after another. All the while, she’d blamed him.
You’re a selfish bastard. You have no heart. You don’t know how to love.
Aye, she’d been a manipulative bitch—but she hadn’t been wrong, either.
He did lack the capacity for softer feelings, and it was abloody good thing. Because they couldn’t be used against him. Because no one, not even Emma Kent, could twist him to her will. Her stupid whims. Fury frosted his insides. Afemaleinvestigator? Who ever heard of that?
She shot to her feet, glaring down at him. “You’re as bad as Ambrose. Why won’t either of you at least give my plan a chance?”
With a curse, he yanked aside the covers.
She backed away. “Have a care. Your injury—”
“Damn my injury and damn your obstinacy.” He stalked toward her, backing her into a corner. Through his teeth, he said, “Next time, don’t bother with the stew and just say what you want.”
“What does stew have to do with this?” She sounded bewildered. “And Iamtelling you what I want!”
“You can’t seriously think you can be an investigator,” he snapped.
“Why not?”
“We’re talking about a murder investigation. A dangerous business and one that you are entirely unsuited for.”
Shedaredto glower at him. “And why is that?”
“Because you’re a bloody lass—and an innocent one at that!”
She scowled. “I’m notthatinnocent, thanks to you.”
Of all the times to remind him of blasted Andromeda’s—he set his jaw, struggled to think through his haze of anger and arousal. Why did she always push him to edge? The idea of her hurt because of this mess set off a maddening beat in his blood. Protective instincts he’d thought long dead roared to life and angered him even more.
Why did she stir up his old, stupid dreams?
Experience had taught him that love was just a euphemism for power. In relationships, there were only two options: control or be controlled. He would never be anyone’s puppet again.
“You’re not getting involved, and that is final,” he gritted out.
“You cannot dictate what I do.” Her bosom surged.
“Can’t I? I believe I proved you wrong two nights ago in my library. Care for another demonstration?” Because heburnedto give it to her.
