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and hold her, but was afraid to touch her again. "I'm sorry. Very sorry. You looked
so beautiful. I guess I lost my head."
She waited for a moment, for the balance and ease that was so much a part of her.
But it didn't come. "Is that it?"
"I..." What did she want him to say? he wondered. He felt like a monster already.
"You're an incredibly desirable woman," he said carefully. "But that's no excuse for
what happened just now."
What had happened? She was afraid she had fallen in love with him, and if she had,
love hurt. She didn't like it one damn bit. "You want me, physically."
He cleared his throat. Want wasn't the word. Craved was closer, but still fell pitifully
short of the mark. As gently as he would for a child, he brought her robe together
again. "Any man would," he said, nerves straining.
Any man, she thought and closed her eyes on the slash of disappointment. She
hadn't been waiting for any man, but for one man. "It's all right, Max." Her voice
was a shade overbright as she sat up. "No harm done. It's just a matter of us finding
the other physically attractive. Happens all the time."
"Yes, but " Not to him, he thought. Not like this. He frowned down at a blade of
grass. It was easier for her, he supposed. She was so open, so uninhibited. There
had probably been dozens of men in her life. Dozens, he thought on a jolt of fury
that had him tearing the blade in two. "What do you suggest we do about it?"
"Do about it?" Her smile was strained, but he wasn't even looking at her. "Why don't
we just see if it passes. Like the flu."
He looked at her then, with something dangerous edging his eyes. "It won't. Not for
me. I want you. A woman like you would know just how badly I want you."
The words brought both a thrill and an ache. "A woman like me," she repeated
softly. "Yes, that's the crux of it, isn't it, Professor?"
"The crux of what?" he began, but she was already on her feet.
"A woman who enjoys men, and who's very generous with them."
"I didn't mean "
"One who'll wrestle half-naked on the grass. A little bohemian for you, Dr.
Quartermain, but you're not above experimenting a little bit here and there with a
woman like me."
"Lilah, for God's sake " He too was on his feet, baffled.
"I wouldn't apologize again if I were you. There's certainly no need." Hurt beyond
measure, she tossed back her hair. "Not when it concerns a woman like me. After all,
you've got me pegged, don't you?"
Good Lord, were those tears in her eyes? He gestured helplessly. "I haven't got a
clue."
"Right again. AH you understand about this is your own wants." She swallowed the
tears. "Well, Professor, I'll take them under consideration and let you know."
Completely lost, he watched her gather the skirts of her robe and dart up the stairs.
Moments later her terrace doors closed with an audible click.
She didn't cry. Lilah reminded herself it was an exhausting experience that usually left
her with a miserable headache. She couldn't think of a single man who was worth the
trouble. Instead, she dragged open the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out her
emergency bar of chocolate.
After plopping down onto the bed, she took a healthy bite and stared at the ceiling.
Sexy. Beautiful. Desirable. Big damn deal, she thought and bit off another hunk. For
all his celebrated brains, Maxwell Quartermain was as big a jerk as any other man. All
he saw was a pretty package, and once he'd unwrapped it, that would be that. He
wouldn't see any substance, any of the softer needs.
Oh, he was more polite than most. A gentleman to the last, she thought in disgust.
She hadn't had to untangle herself. God knew he'd been in a hurry to do that for
himself.
Lost his head. At least he was honest, she thought, and brushed impatiently at a tear
that sneaked past her guard.
She knew the kind of image she projected. It rarely bothered her what people
thought of her. She understood herself, was comfortable with Lilah Maeve Calhoun.
There certainly was no shame in the fact that she enjoyed men. Though she hadn't
enjoyed them to the extent that others, including, she supposed, her family might
think.
Uninhibited? Perhaps, but that wasn't synonymous with promiscuity. Did she flirt?
Yes, it came naturally to her, but it wasn't done with malice or guile.
If a man flirted with women he was suave. If a woman flirted, she was a tease. Well,
as far as she was concerned the game between the sexes was a two-way street, and
she enjoyed playing. And as for the good professor...
She curled up into a tight, defensive ball. Oh, God, he'd hurt her. All that stuttering,
apologizing, explaining. And all the time he looked so appalled.
A woman like you. The phrase played back in her head.
Couldn't he see what he'd done to her with that careful tenderness? Hadn't he been
able to feel how deeply he'd affected her? All she had wanted was for him to touch
her again, to smile in that sweet, shy way of his and tell her that he cared. About who
she was, what she was, how she felt inside. She'd wanted comfort and reassurance,
and he'd given her excuses. She had looked up at him, with the stab of love still
streaking through her, the terror of it still trembling, and he'd jerked back as if she'd
clipped him on the jaw.
She wished she had. If this was love, she didn't want her share after all.
Because it was quiet, or perhaps because her ears were tuned for him, she heard
Max come up the steps, sensed him hesitate near her doors. She stopped breathing,
though her heart picked up a quick beat. Would he come in now, push those doors
open and come to her, tell her what she wanted so badly to hear? She could almost
see his hand reach for the knob. Then she heard his footsteps again as he moved on
down the terrace to his own room.
Her breath came out in a sigh. It wouldn't fit his principles to enter her bedroom
uninvited. Outside, on the grass, he'd been following his instincts rather than his
intellect, she admitted. No one was more in favor of that than Lilah. For him, it had
been the moment, the moon, the mood. It was difficult to blame him, certainly
impossible to expect him to feel as she felt. Want as she wanted.
She sincerely hoped he didn't sleep a wink.
She sniffled, swallowed chocolate, then began to think. Only two months before, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]