CHAPTER 10
Tony awoke in the middle of the night. Somewhere, in a dark corner of the room, a cricket chirped in resounding monotony, but that wasn’t what had awakened him. It was her heat, surrounding him as in her sleep her body sought the contours of his. She was wrapped around his back like a blanket, her scent surrounding him like a dream. For a long moment he didn’t move, relishing the feel of her breasts pressed against his back, her legs spooned with his. He marveled at how well their bodies fit together, like utensils nestled together in a drawer.
Suddenly the intimacy was too much. He eased himself away from her and out of bed, seeking a chair at the table. Fumbling around in the darkness, he found his pack of cigarettes and an ashtray. Strange—since being with Libby, he’d nearly broken the nicotine habit.
He shook a cigarette from the pack, then changed his mind and threw the pack into the nearby trash can. Leaning his head back, he concentrated on all the reasons why he shouldn’t wake Libby and make love to her. He genuinely liked her, and that was one of the strongest reasons for not making love to her. He liked her and he didn’t want to hurt her.
It had never mattered much with other women. He could be a bastard, love them and leave them without a backward glance. He never stuck around long enough for anyone to develop a true case of heartbreak complete with scars.
Scars… He had enough from childhood to last him a lifetime. First, the scars of having a bastard for a father, then the scars from watching his mother lose her vitality, become colorless and without animation, eventually a shadow woman who had no life but what she could find in a bottle of gin. And the worst fear of all was that he truly was his father’s son, with all his father’s faults. He didn’t mind being a bastard to women who didn’t count, but he had promised himself a long time ago that he would never be responsible for making a woman a shadow, for sucking the life out of her and leaving her empty and bereft.
He thought of the private investigator who’d been sent on his way. The man had been an out-of-shape, greedy pig who’d do anything for a dollar. What bothered Tony was the thought that by taking the job from Bill Weatherby, he had put himself in the same category as the fat P.I. Lately, it was more and more difficult to remember exactly why he had wanted to quit the police force and go into business for himself. It bothered him that he could end up like the fat sleaze…taking whatever kind of job was offered for a few dollars’ pay.
“Tony?”
He tensed at the sound of Libby’s voice in the darkness. “I’m here,” he answered after a moment of hesitation.
He heard rather than saw her sit up in bed. “Is everything all right?” Her concern was evident in her tone.
“Everything is fine,” he assured her. “Go back to sleep.”
She didn’t go back to sleep. He heard the rustle of covers, the sound of her bare feet as they hit the floor. Then she stood next to him, her evocative scent all around him, the heat from her body surrounding him. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.
For just a moment he hated her. He hated her concern, he hated her beauty, hated her because he cared about her. “I’m fine,” he answered tersely, wishing she’d go away, leave him alone.
“Can’t sleep?” She moved even closer and he was afraid that if she touched him in any way, his tight control would break.
“Damn it, Libby, just go back to bed,” he retorted sharply. He heard her sharp intake of surprise at his frigid tone, then the soft padding of her feet as she did as he asked. He breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Better that she think him a moody, cranky son of a bitch. Better that she realize he was a bastard. Better that, than let her see he was falling in love with her.
* * *
It was a long night, an even longer morning. Tony seemed to go out of his way to be surly. He snapped and snarled like a tethered dog who’d been teased by bullies, and it wasn’t long before Libby found a foul mood of her own.
Like it’s my fault we’re stuck in this little cabin,she thought as she washed their lunch dishes.Like it’s all my fault the stupid necklace was brought into my shop.She looked over to where he sat at the table, staring blankly at the wall opposite him. She stifled the impulse to throw something at him.
She finished the dishes, then joined him at the table, drumming her fingertips on the tabletop, knowing she irritated him and perversely finding satisfaction in doing so. “I preferred your empty, charming ways to this surly, black mood of yours,” she finally said, staring at him defiantly as he looked at her in surprise.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a twinkle appeared in his eyes. Damn, but she had nerve. Most people, when faced with one of his black moods, steered clear. But she met him head-on, unafraid of repercussions. “I’m sorry, I have been rather hateful,” he admitted.
“Rather hateful?” She raised a pale blond eyebrow. “Try again.”
“Okay, I’ve been totally hateful.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t stand being cooped up in here. I’m used to action.”
“This isn’t exactly my idea of a fun vacation, either,” she chided him.
He laughed, finding it impossible to hold on to anger where she was concerned. She simply wouldn’t allow him to be angry with her for something that wasn’t her fault. “I’m bored,” he admitted.
“Want to play some more poker?” she asked.
He groaned. “I’m notthatbored. Besides, you hurt my male ego yesterday by soundly tromping me.”
“I know something we can do,” she ventured.
“What?” he asked, knowing she didn’t have on her mind what he did.
“We could play truth or dare.”
Tony frowned. “What’s that?”
