David slammed the door to the stove closed. “I’m not drunk.” Tessa’s self-righteous act was beginning to wear on his already thin restraint. He had been to the Satin Slipper. She knew damn well he’d been there and what he’d done because she’d been there watching him when she should’ve stayed where he’d left her in the apartment.
“I suppose you always fumble around trying to unlock doors and making enough noise to wake the dead while you’re doing it.” She raised her chin a notch higher, looking down the slope of her upturned nose.
“I did have a drink or two,” David admitted, wondering all the while why he found it necessary to explain himself to her when she already knew what had happened. “But I’m not drunk.”
Tessa snorted in disbelief. “A drink or two? More like the whole bottle, I’d say. I know Irish whiskey when I smell it.” She slammed the kettle down on the stove with enough force to send drops of water up the spout and out onto the hot surface where they sizzled a moment before disappearing.
“Scotch,” David corrected. “It was Scots whisky and only half a bottle.” He reached over and grabbed the handle of the coffee pot, shaking it a bit to measure how much remained in the pot.
Tessa marched to the sink once again and returned with a clean cup. She handed it to David without a word.
“Thank you.” He reached for the mug. Their fingers touched a second before Tessa snatched her hand away. “I’m not drunk.” He moved closer to tilt her chin up with his index finger. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I wasn’t worried.” Tessa moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.
David stared, mesmerized by the sight of her pink tongue licking her lips. Suddenly he wanted to do that. He wanted to lick her lips. “Good. Because you never have to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not.”
David raised one eyebrow, silently questioning her words.
Tessa wet her lips once again.
David almost groaned aloud as his body reacted to the sight. He placed his cup on the table, no longer thirsty for coffee, but for the taste of Tessa’s lips. Wanting, needing to reassure her, David forced himself to finish his thought. “Despite what people say about Indians and half-breeds like me, I want you to know that I’m not a mean drunk.”
Her blue eyes opened wider at his admission. “You’re not?”
“I’m not.” David smiled, and Tessa realized once again what a handsome man he was. Extraordinarily handsome. His dark brown eyes, copper-tinted skin, aristocratic nose, and beautifully-shaped lips were almost perfect. “Liquor doesn’t make me want to fight or be cruel or slap women around.”
“It doesn’t?” Tessa was surprised. All the men of her acquaintance, including her father and brother, had gotten ugly when they drank to excess. She couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What does it do to you?”
“It makes me want to take a woman in my arms and make love to her all night long.” He answered her honestly. This time he didn’t smile.
David gazed at her face, his dark eyes searching.
“Oh.” The simple word was all Tessa could manage. She leaned toward him, the sound of his deep, husky voice and the look in his eyes coaxing her closer to his waiting mouth. She breathed deeply and once more the smell of the Satin Slipper intruded, tainting him. She caught herself just in time, placed her hands against David’s inviting chest, pushed him into a chair by the table, and glared down at him. Tessa had seen David work his charms on Charlotte and she wasn’t about to fall into the same trap.
“From the amount of liquor you drank and from the way you smell, I’d say you enjoyed most of the night with someone. Myra, perhaps?” She wondered if he’d tell the truth, or if he’d try to weasel out with a lie.
David looked up at her and suppressed a smile. The she-cat in Tessa had bared her claws once again. She expected him to lie. He surprised her by telling the truth. “No,” he told her. “Not Myra. Charlotte the Harlot.”
Tessa’s blue eyes widened at his honest reply.
“She has your old room, you know. And most of your things.” As David watched impassively, Tessa took a step backward. He didn’t like the way his words seemed to cut into her any more than he’d liked the way her claws felt ripping into him. God, he thought he’d given up spying. He didn’t like games. He didn’t like the way she tested him, trying to catch him in a lie or the fact that he was forced to uncover her secrets to find the truth. And he’d done nothing but try to help her, yet she still didn’t trust him. That stung. And while David knew he was bordering on deliberate cruelty, he couldn’t stop the flow of words. “I spent the night drinking with Charlotte, encouraging her to talk to me. I listened to her describing in excruciating detail every sex act known to man. And do you want to know why, contessa?”
She shook her head.
“I did it because I’m trying to find some evidence that will keep your pretty little neck from swinging at the end of a rope. I did it because I need some answers. I needed to search your old room.” He dismissed her with a sharp look and a wave of his hand. “If I stink of whisky and the perfume of unsavory women, you only have yourself and your stubborn silence to blame. And since my presence disgusts you, I suggest you take yourself off to bed.”
Tessa took a step forward. “Wait, I—”
“Go to bed.”
“But—”
“It was nice of you to wait up for me, but it won’t be necessary in the future.” David’s tone was sharper, more cutting, than Tessa had ever heard it.
“You bumble-headed man.” Tessa walked to the stove, picked up the plate of beans, and slammed it down on the table in front of him. “I didn’t wait up for you to be nice. I did it because I wanted to see what condition you’d be in when you got home. I wanted to know what time you got home and how you’d spent the night—drinking or gambling or…or whoring.” She banged a spoon down next to his plate. “And I wasn’t disappointed.”