Feeling better, she turned the jets off, squeezed some of the water out of her hair, and turned. Yelped.
“Jesus. Jesus Christ, Roarke, you know I hate when you sneak up on me like that.”
“Yes, I do.” He opened the door to the drying tube, knowing she preferred it to a leisurely toweling off. While the fan whirled, he strolled over to take her robe from the hook on the back of the door.
But when she stepped out, he held onto it rather than offering. “Who put those marks on you?”
“Huh?”
“Your arm’s bruised.”
“Yeah.” She glanced down, had an image of Ricker, his eyes burning as his fingers dug into her flesh. “You’re right. Must’ve run into something.” She reached for the robe only to have him hold it out of reach. “Come on, I’m not going to play your sick games in the bathroom.”
Such a statement usually made him smile. Her stomach began to quiver when his eyes stayed cool and steady on hers.
“They’re finger marks, Lieutenant. Who handled you?”
“For God’s sake.” Working up irritation, she snatched the robe. “I’m a cop, remember? It means I tend to run into a number of nasty characters in any given day. Have you eaten? I’m starving.”
He let her walk back into the bedroom, stand and fiddle with the AutoChef. Waited until she punched in a request. “Where are the flowers?”
Oh shit. “What flowers?”
“The flowers, Eve, that were delivered just a while ago.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just got—Hey!”
He’d spun her around so quickly her teeth nearly rattled. Might have if they hadn’t frozen solid at the fury in his eyes. The chill had turned to fire very quickly. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t ever fucking lie to me.”
“Cut it out.” He had her arms. But even now, she realized, even when he was furious, he didn’t hurt her, and was careful to keep his grip away from the bruise. “Flowers come here all the time. What am I supposed to know about it? Now let me go. I’m hungry.”
“I’ll tolerate, and by God do tolerate, a great deal from you, Eve. But you won’t stand here and lie to my face. You have bruises on you put there since I last saw you, and by someone’s hand. Summerset is downstairs feeding a bunch of flowers into the recycler. On your orders, I assume, since he brought them up here first. Goddammn it, I can still smell them. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Then who? Who put the fear behind your eyes?”
“You.”
She knew it was wrong, knew it was cruel. And hated herself for it when his eyes went blank, when he stepped just a little too carefully back from her.
“I beg your pardon.”
She hated when he used that rigid and formal tone, hated it worse than a shout. And when he turned to walk away from her, she gave up.
“Roarke. Damn it, Roarke!” She had to go after him, take his arm. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m sorry.”
“I have work.”
“Don’t freeze me out. I can’t take it when you do that.” She dragged her hands through her hair, pressed the heels of them hard on her forehead where it had begun to throb. “I don’t know how to do this. Any way I do, it’s going to piss you off.”
Disgusted, she stalked back to the sitting area, flopped on the couch, scowled at nothing in particular.
“Why don’t you try the truth?”
“Yeah, all right. But you have to make me a promise first.”
“Which would be?”