“You had it coming.”
“I usually do.” He grinned. “I’ll get the glasses if you get the wine?”
“Sure.”
They moved about the kitchen in companionable silence. It felt so…domestic. As if they’d been working alongside each other like this for years. Erica watched him pour the wine. She couldn’t quite figure out what to make of him, or why he was here. Why had he shown up with flowers? That was taking semper fi a little too far, especially when she could only turn him down no matter how faithfully he pursued her.
They headed to the living room with full glasses in hand. She settled on the couch with her legs tucked under her. “So what happened with Tommy?”
“He saw me wearing his clothes and flipped out.”
“Shit.” She took a sip of her wine. She was tempted to guzzle the whole damned thing. “What did you tell him?”
“Well…” He cleared his throat. There he went with the dog tags again. She wouldn’t like this, would she? “It would’ve been easier to explain if I hadn’t told him the bruises came from going round for round with a wild woman the night before.”
She gasped. Every drop of blood in her body rushed to her face. “You didn’t!”
“I did,” he admitted sheepishly. “But in my defense, I forgot I was wearing his clothes, and he took me by surprise. I tried to backtrack, but he didn’t believe me.”
She was dead. Tommy would never let her live this down. “What did he do?”
He tossed back the rest of his wine and set the glass on the coffee table. When he looked at her, every trace of teasing amusement had disappeared. Prickles of alarm raised the fine hairs at her nape.
“He told me he’d kill me for seeing you, then running away.” He watched her steadily. “Why would he think that? Why would you?”
She choked on her wine. Fear sent her heart tumbling over itself at impossible speeds. Jeremy watched her intently, practically daring her to come clean. But how could she? Her secrets were hers to keep. Tommy didn’t get to decide when and where she told them, or to whom. She’d kill him. Get rid of Jeremy, then head right over to Tommy’s and kill him. She might be smaller, but she’d kick his ass so hard he wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.
She slammed her glass down on the coffee table and lurched to her feet, hands on her hips. “You need to go. If you don’t, I can’t guarantee your safety. Or that I won’t just punch you in the face.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” He stretched an arm along the back of the couch and made himself comfortable. “Go ahead. My left cheek isn’t bruised yet. I think it needs a little color, don’t you?”
“Jeremy!” She snarled and stomped her foot. “I’m serious. You need to leave.”
“No. I’m not running away again.” He stood and gripped her elbows. His eyes pleaded. “Every time we get close to something good, something real, you run away. Not this time. I won’t let you. I know we have something here. I know we can be something, if you’ll just let me in. Why won’t you?”
His calm control infuriated her. She was supposed to be the calm one. She was supposed to be in control. How dare he be composed and rational when she was ready to break something over his head?
Maybe she’d start with the wine glass.
“I don’t let you in because I don’t want to. I don’t want you.” But her voice broke on the last word, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Bullshit.” His fingers tightened. “Yes, you do want me. But you refuse to admit it, like you refused to admit it seven years ago. Your act ma
y have worked on me then, but it won’t now. I’m not leaving until we talk about this like adults.”
Erica closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Patience remained conspicuously silent. Damn it. She’d always been the rational one. She was a lawyer, for the love of God. If lawyers went around screaming at the judge, they’d end up getting traded for cigarettes in the local clink. She’d never, ever lost her temper, but her temperance had left her high and dry just when she needed it most.
She dragged her eyes to his. “Please. Can’t you just accept that I don’t want to be with you, and go?”
“Only if it’s the truth. Then I’ll go away and you can take out that restraining order. Or I can stop by at Christmas and Thanksgiving to say hi to the folks and catch up with old friends. Whatever you want…as long as you’re telling me the truth. Are you?”
She parted her lips to lie, but the words wouldn’t come out.
“Talk to me,” he coaxed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She jerked free from his hold, turned her back on him, and smoothed her shirt down with sweaty hands. “You have no right to barge in here and demand anything of me after I haven’t seen you in years.”
“Do you remember the last time we saw each other?” His voice was so quiet she almost couldn’t hear him. “Do you remember what I said?”