Suddenly Last Summer (O'Neil Brothers 3)

“I was very angry with you. And now I’m angry with me. And you should be angry with me, too.”

Angry?

He was feeling all manner of emotions he didn’t recognize, but anger wasn’t one of them. And it was starting to terrify him. For him, women slotted neatly into a clearly identified part of his life labeled entertainment. They provided company, someone with whom to share dinner, enjoy the opera and, yes, sex. They were part of his life without ever influencing it. They came into his life and when they left he rarely gave them more than a passing thought. He was the master of the superficial, an expert in the art of keeping himself detached. Until now. Now, his head was full of Élise. She intrigued him. She excited him. He thought about her. All the time.

Shit.

Part of him wanted to run but his feet were nailed to the deck. “I’m not angry. You were upset about Sam. So was I.”

“I thought you’d told him a lie. You didn’t. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was wrong to lose my temper.”

“I’m not afraid of your temper. And besides, you weren’t really yelling at me, were you?” He spoke softly, wishing they’d started this conversation somewhere other than the crowded Boathouse. A swift glance told him that no one was near enough to overhear what was being said. “You were yelling at him.”

Her breathing grew shallow. “Him?”

“Pascal. The guy who stomped all over that heart of yours. The guy who broke his promises and made you afraid to risk falling in love again. The guy who lied.” He lifted his cup and finished his coffee, thinking that from the outside it probably looked as if they were talking about the food or the weather. “The one who makes you keep your relationships to one night, no more. That’s the guy you were yelling at, and I don’t blame you. If I met him, I’d probably yell at him, too. I might even lob a candleholder at him and push him in the lake, too.”

She was staring at him, those green eyes wide and wary. “He can’t swim.”

“All the more reason to push him in. There’s a deep

part about a hundred yards up the lake path. That should do it.”

“You gave Sam your phone number in case he needed you in the night.”

“Yeah, well, I figured he was unlikely to call me twenty times a day to tell me he loved me.”

“He might. He has a serious case of hero worship.”

“He had a scary experience.”

“So did I. I can’t forget it.” She lifted her hand to her face and breathed deeply. “All night I saw him bleeding. I kept thinking about what would have happened if we’d stayed to look at the view for another five minutes, or if we’d stopped just two minutes longer on the path.”

“We didn’t. And thinking like that will drive you crazy.”

“I think I’m already a little crazy.” Her hand dropped. “You really were a hero. You were so calm.”

“You didn’t see the size of the whiskey I poured myself when I got back to Jackson’s.”

“But that was afterward. At the time—you didn’t even shake. And—” she swallowed “—I was thinking of other things, too.”

His gaze met hers. “What things?”

“Camping.” She licked her lips. “I told you so much. Things I haven’t told anyone.”

He wondered why knowing that made him feel good when in reality it should have made him panic. “I’m glad.”

“Are you?”

“When someone tries to knock you unconscious with a hard object it always helps to understand why.”

“I really am sorry. I accused you of sleeping with that nurse. And you’re not at all that guy.”

He wanted to agree with her, to reassure her and tell her he would never do a thing like that, but he couldn’t, could he?

“Maybe I am that guy. Maybe our reasons are different, but I don’t do relationships any more than you do. For me, work always comes first.” Or at least it always had. Now? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore and it was starting to unsettle him because he’d always known exactly what he wanted. Always been clear about his goal.

Hell, any moment now he’d be building a house and putting up a white picket fence.