Page 25 of Merrick

He contemplated that while he handed her the glass of pale gold liquid. “I guess you could say we are. They are my family, and I happen to be big on family.” He shot her a glance.

What about you?”

“What about me?” She should have expected that information did not come cheap.

“Are you and your family close?”

“I only have a great aunt, and we get along.”

Her tone had him staring at her curiously and she could have cursed herself for revealing too much. “I was brought up in a home.” She blurted, surprising herself even more.

“I see.” He continued to stare at her as he sipped his wine. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“All right.” He did not press, and she felt the tension lessening around her chest. And had her saying.

“My mother was a junkie, and I have no idea who my father was.”

He felt something clutch at his heart. She passed it off as something that was not important, but her off hand comment did not fool him. It mattered to her.

“Where is she now?” He asked so quietly; it had her insides going warm.

“Dead.” Avoiding his piercing gray gaze, she busied herself digging into her meal.

“You looked for her.”

“No.” Lifting her head, she gave him a fierce look. “I was not interested. Her aunt was looking for me and found me when I was already out of the system and on my own.”

She had to be careful here, she thought with a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach. She was revealing too much. She had never said this much to anyone before, and it shocked her. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It was his damn voice. It was so deep and soothing that she wanted to dissolve in his arms and rest her head on his shoulder. Damn him!

“Life sucks and then we move on.”

He kept his gaze steady on her face until she looked away. And decided to file the information away for another time. He saw the hurt and pain there and was going to do his best to erase them. He had firsthand knowledge of those debilitating emotions and was going to make it his duty to see to it that she had some pleasure.

They both needed it. But for now, he would drop the subject.

“I don’t see you as a writer.” He cut into his roast beef with an economy of movement she admired. He had strong tanned hands with dustings of dark hairs and long fingers that had her thinking of something other than what he was doing. And because she was, she had to look away quickly, but not before feeling the sharp and unfamiliar tug of lust.

She should not have come to his place. Coming here, being here took the power away from her.

“Why not?” Because she was out of control, her voice was sharp.

He merely spared her a glance as he chewed the succulent beef. “You’re too practical.”

His response was so unexpected; it caused her to laugh.

“What?”

A smile touched his stern lips and molded them into sensuously. She had to stop. Or she was heading into deep waters.

“You are earthy, which is sexy as hell. You do not believe in romance and the power of a love so encompassing it takes over everything else.”

“And you do?” She made her voice sound a tinge bored.

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