No, it couldn’t be her. He turned into a winged horse, the most majestic thing she had ever seen. He fought crime. He was a man whose friends and coworkers spoke about him with respect, even with reverence. He was a widower surviving the loss of a woman he’d loved. He had a family history that went back to Ancient Greece, and he came from parents who were professors and antiquities dealers.
She was Tiffani Marcus, a cocktail party joke with a blonde dye-job and a criminal ex-husband. She was an ex-hairdresser turned aging trophy wife turned court reporter. Someone who had skipped out on her first day of work to have a fling in a hotel with a virtual stranger.
They didn’t fit. They were compatible, sure. They had chemistry. They’d had terrific, mind-blowing sex. She was probably in love with him.
Maybe they could have something terrific someday.
But they couldn’t be what he was saying they were.
She shook her head. “No.”
His smile faded a little at the edges. “No?”
She started getting dressed so quickly she put her blouse on inside-out at first and had to fix it. Her hands were shaking too badly for her to get the buttons straight and she knew she was ending up with gaps and a crooked shirt. The cardigan would cover it up.
She didn’t know where she was planning on going. This was her apartment, not his.
Martin just watched her in shock. “No, Tiffani, wait—”
“I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m a mess.”
“You’re not a mess. You’re perfect.”
The laugh was so harsh it hurt her throat. “I’m perfect? I’m doing everything I can just to hold my life together! Just to get my feet back on the ground again! You’re perfect! You’re... you! And where the hell is my cardigan?”
He caught her wrist as she passed by him but let go the moment she spun around again.
He was still naked, she realized. No one could have a good argument while they were naked. He didn’t have his feet under him either, and his eyes were... broken.
I hurt him. I’m hurting him.
I’m being the bad guy.
It wasn’t all about how she could screw up her own life. She had the power, she realized, to mess up his too. Maybe she hadn’t asked for it. But love gave you big responsibilities.
She took a deep breath. It was all she could do to keep from running. To keep the courage she’d spent so long trying to find.
Martin said, “Please don’t go. I take it back. You’re not perfect.”
“I’m not,” Tiffani said. “I’m just a person. That’s my only achievement.”
“That’s not your only achievement.”
“Are you arguing with me while trying to convince me to stay?”
“I am if you’re saying that. You raised Jillian, and I met Jillian, so I know you did something right there. You can come up with believable cover stories on a moment’s notice. You told on-the-fly fairy tales to scared kids until they weren’t scared anymore. You got the judge to walk away and be convinced it was his own idea. You’re smart and funny and brave.”
“Yeah, well. You’ve only known me for a few hours.”
But she was weakening, she could feel it. Who could resist all that?
“That’s true,” Martin said. “Imagine what I’ll know about you by the end of the week.”
That time the laugh didn’t hurt.
“You’re only seeing the good parts of me, though,” Tiffani said. “Because you want to. And because I was trying to impress you because you’re very, very good-looking.”
He looked absurdly flattered. “I am? You probably just think that because of... this.” He waved his hand back and forth between them.