Page 34 of The Reborn

“No!” I blurted out a little too fast, then bit my lip as we stared at each other.

“You sure about that?”

“I... well... define grudge. I was a principal dancer in the Houston ballet and I got several lead roles in big productions. I’m sure there were plenty of jealous dancers who—”

“You haven’t been in that position for years, Olivia.” He cocked his head. “You know what I’m asking. Have you cheated on anyone? Cut anyone’s throat in business? Burned any bridges lately?”

I wanted to cut his throat right about then, but I held firm as I stared him down. “No. I’m not like that.”

He nodded and let the music fill the air for a moment before asking, “Any exes who weren’t interested in being exes?”

I held my spine straight even when every bit of me wanted to crumble under the weight of that question. He was so far off base, yet had still managed to touch a nerve, and the look on his face told me he knew it. “No,” I managed to whisper.

“And—?”

“And that includes Elizabeth’s father,” I cut him off before he could ask the question. “Who doesn’t give a shit about me or her, and he doesn’t even live in the United States, so you can cross him right off your list, okay?”

He stared me down hard for a long minute, as if he was trying to decipher the truth. “Yeah, okay,” he finally said, though his tone said it was anything but okay.

“Are we done here?”

“Sure. For now.”

I nodded and jumped up to race from the room so he wouldn’t see my stupid overly emotional reaction.

Down the hall, I poked my head in Lizzy’s room, where she was sound asleep, so I kept going and shut myself into my own bedroom and leaned my back against the door with a sigh. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I getting so twisted up over simple questions about her father? Justin was just doing his job and asking things that made sense.

Because . . .

I squeezed my eyes shut as tears burned behind my eyelids as visions of the life I fleetingly had in Italy—the life Christoph had promised, then torched so traumatically—was still chasing me. Not as an unrequited dream, but as my greatest shame. As a woman and as a mother. How could I have let that happen? Not only to myself, but to my child? How had I not seen the signs?

The therapist I saw religiously for the first year or so after I got back to Texas said she couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Christoph was probably a world-class narcissist, and with my giving nature, it wasn’t surprising I fell for his manipulation. Really made me feel better. Not. Well, I did eventually grow to understand the idea rationally, if not emotionally. What can I say? I was a work in progress.

I blew out a breath and threw myself on my bed, letting my collection of throw pillows pad my fall. I rolled over a few minutes later at the sound of the guest bathroom door closing across the hall. As I stared at the ceiling, the rush of water sounded through the walls, then the hiss of the shower.

Oh Lord. Justin Ashford was naked.

In my house.

Just a few feet away.

Heat filled my cheeks and curled through my body in an automatic rush.

I turned my head toward the door as if I could see through the wall with X-ray vision.

In a nanosecond, I went from being angsty and worried about a narcissistic ex to hot and bothered about a man I hardly knew, yet who felt strangely familiar in ways I couldn’t begin to understand. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t all that difficult to imagine him under the water, wet and soapy. I pictured him under the spray, head bent as the hot water washed over him, steam billowing around his broad shoulders. I could just see how the water droplets clung to his wet lashes and his dark stubble. How the stream washed down his wide chest and solid abs, toward the fine trail of hair that led toward his hard—

I yelped when my cell phone rang from my nightstand. I scrambled for it, realizing that my entire body was flushed and sensitive, my nipples peaked, and my panties soaked.

My heart was pounding behind my ribs as I accepted the call with a deep breath. “Hello?”

“Olivia?” Whitney’s voice was instantly concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Just, uh, had to run to get the phone.” I sat up and adjusted my shirt. “What’s up?”

Something ruffled as she moved on the other end. “Uh, I don’t know, how about as your bestie, I’m calling for all the details about your friend.” She said that last word as if she’d been privy to my thoughts just before her call.

As if on cue, the shower cut off across the hall.

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