Low Pressure
Page 138
“Spare me the wounded-puppy eyes.”
“What kind of eyes would you prefer?”
“Spare me that, too.”
“What?”
“The flirting. Sexy smile. Smoky eyes. Tone of voice.” She sighed. “Didn’t you understand what I was telling you today?”
“Be more specific.”
“What I told you on the flight back.”
“You’re not having sex with me.”
“That’s right. So you should just say good night and leave.”
“You really want me to go?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“My car is locked inside your garage.”
Chagrined, she tipped her head forward and let several moments elapse. Then, “Follow me.”
She led him into the kitchen, where she unlocked the door that opened into the garage. Reaching around the jamb, she hit the button on the wall, and the motor for the overhead door engaged.
When it was up, she turned back to him. “There. You’re free to go.” But he didn’t move. He waited her out until she stopped glancing about at anything and everything else before finally garnering the courage to look him in the eye. “We’ve already talked about this, Dent.”
“We didn’t finish the talk.”
“I did.”
“Without giving me a chance to counter.”
“You don’t get to counter, because it’s not an argument. I told you from the start that you and I… that it wasn’t going to happen. Ever.”
“Using Susan as your excuse.”
“Susan wasn’t an excuse, she—”
“Was a slut. And out of some backward sense of obligation or balance or whatever, you’re denying your own sexual inclinations.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “And you believe that my inclinations will just naturally lead me to you.”
“They did last night.”
She dropped her arms back to her sides. “That was—”
“I know what it was, and it was too wet to have been faked.”
She wished her blush wouldn’t give away her embarrassment. But she didn’t mind revealing her anger. “Are you waiting to be thanked? Congratulated? What? Is your ego—”
“Don’t turn this around and make it about me,” he said, raising his voice to match hers. “My ego’s fine.”