Page 36

Ash slipped the phone back into his pocket and rubbed his palms over his thighs, as if he needed somewhere to put the nervous energy I could practically see running through him. “We should probably get downstairs.”

He was right. The bus to the airport was leaving in twenty minutes, our gear had already gone ahead, and there were probably three different members of the organization currently wondering where their captain was when he should have been helping herd twenty professional hockey players out of a casino hotel without anyone disappearing into the slot machines.

None of that made me move.

“I meant what I said about last night not being a mistake.”

Ash looked at me, and something passed across his face too quickly for me to identify before his gaze dropped toward the carpet. “You said a lot of things last night, and you were also having what I’m fairly sure was the worst twenty-four hours of your professional life, so I’m willing to allow for diminished capacity.”

Despite everything, a laugh escaped me. “You think I accidentally slept with you because I was distracted?”

“I think you do a lot of questionable things when you’re distracted.”

“That’s rich coming from a man who punched me halfway through our first kiss.”

His head snapped up. “You deserved it, and catching my fist doesn’t change that.”

“You kissed me again afterward, which suggests either I was forgiven or your judgment wasn't exactly flawless.”

“That was temporary insanity.”

“There seems to be a remarkable amount of diminished capacity and temporary insanity involved in your version of events.”

The corner of his mouth finally moved, not quite a smile but close enough that I felt ridiculously pleased with myself for putting it there. The expression didn't last, though, and when he said my name, I recognized the change in his tone immediately.

It meant we'd reached the point where humor could no longer keep whatever frightened him safely at arm's length.

Ash looked toward the window instead of at me. Vegas glittered beyond the glass in broad daylight, all the neon and spectacle looking faintly ridiculous without darkness to hide the machinery underneath.

“I don’t know what this is.”

Neither did I, and that should have made answering impossible. Strangely, it made the truth easier.

“I don’t either, but I’m not going to lie to you just because the truth isn't particularly impressive.”

He turned back to me, his mouth tightening slightly. “That's reassuring.”

“Probably not, but it's what I've got.”

For a moment I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing, but then he shook his head. “No, I suppose you’re not going to lie to make this easier.”

“I know I want you, and I know I don't want anyone else.”

The first part earned the faintest flicker of amusement. The second wiped it away completely.

“A month ago, you were leaving bars with women just to make sure I saw you do it. Melanie was three weeks ago, and now you expect me to believe you suddenly don't want anyone else?”

There was no accusation in his voice this time, which somehow made the question worse. I couldn't blame him for doubting me when I'd spent weeks manufacturing exactly the evidence he would need to do it.

“I didn't sleep with Melanie.”

Ash looked away. “You don’t owe me your sexual history.”

“I know, but I do owe you the truth about this because I deliberately made you believe something that wasn't true.” The admission made me feel about as intelligent as willingly skating face-first into the boards. “I didn't take Melanie home because I wanted her. I left with her because you were watching.”

His eyes came back to mine so sharply that I almost felt the impact.

“You deliberately used a woman to make me think you weren't interested in me, and that's supposed to improve this somehow?”