Page 43 of The Devil's Scars

He moved closer, gazing at her intently. Then he cocked his head to one side and gave her that slow grin, the one that made her knees go weak.

Damn the man.

“Coffee,” he said abruptly, setting the styrofoam take-out cup on the reception area counter. “For you. For your first day with us in an official capacity. Thought you could use it. I know you have your hands full here, with the mess that got left behind. Saint and Viking and Arrow are great guys, great artists, but none of them could manage their way out of a wet paper bag.”

“Uh,” she said, blinking a bit, sure that if she took anything more from the man, she’d only live to regret it. “I’m cutting back. Thanks anyway.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his amazing eyes flicking to the half-full cup of coffee in her hand, to the empty pot standing in the coffee maker next to the door. “Doesn’t seem that way, Zoe.”

“Starting right now, I’m cutting back,” she said crisply. “So take your coffee, Scars, because I won’t be drinking it.”

He stared at her, feeling all the hard-won calm that he’d talked himself into at home that morning start to unravel already. “So… you won’t even take a cup of coffee from me? After what happened between us the other night?”

“Jesus Christ,” she said, her exasperation making her reckless, angry, smart-mouthed. “Nothing happened between us, OK?”

“That’s not how I remember it, baby.”

“I don’t care what you think you remember,” she snapped. “Develop amnesia, Innis, because as far as I’m concerned, I don’t know you beyond a ‘hi, I’m Wolf’s friend Zoe’ while we were standing at the bar.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.” She tossed her head, narrowed her green eyes. “That is goddamn right. Now get the hell out.”

Scars felt his brow wrinkling in confusion as Zoe ordered him from the tattoo parlor. Just what the actual fuck was going on here, anyway? OK, sure, she’d beat it out of the back room the other night, which had been surprising in its about-face from smoking-hot to icy-cold, but he’d really thought that she’d freaked out a bit at how sudden it had all been. Thought that she’d be calmer and more open to him by now. And why not? It’s not like he’d done anything that she hadn’t been on board with. Hell, she’d clearly enjoyed herself.

So – what was the issue here? Why was she acting like he’d spit in her coffee, or something?

“What the fuck?” he demanded. “Why are you pretending that the other night didn’t happen?”

“Jesus Christ,” Zoe repeated. She shook her head, sighed. “Look, you really don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you give a crap.”

“Uhhh…” Scars stared down at her, wondering if he’d ever met a woman who simultaneously turned him on and pissed him off as much as this one did; on the whole, he decided that he had not. “You need to explain that, Zoe.”

“Look, what happened… it was what I temporarily needed, it was what you momentarily wanted.” She shrugged, and her luscious breasts rose and fell with the dismissive movement. “So, it was… fun. A fun one-nighter. I needed a stress-release, and you were it, so thanks for that.”

“Wait up,” Scars said, feeling like he’d just been hit with a two-by-four. “Are you really standing there and saying ‘thank you very much for the fuck’?”

“I’m guessing your one-nighters don’t usually say thank you?” She gave him a snarky little grin. “Not very polite of them, huh?”

“Why do you keep pretending that it was a ‘one-nighter’?” he said tightly.

“Why do you keep pretending that it wasn’t? That it meant anything at all to you?” she demanded, totally exasperated now, and letting fly. “I know it didn’t. I know there’s no way that it ever could.”

Not liking her choice of words even a tiny bit, he glared at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

She glared right on back, not cowering or backing down at all. “It means that I know exactly what you are.”

“OK, stop.” He was straight-up furious now, and he took a step closer, crowding her, entering her space. “You know exactly what I am? What am I, Zoe, in your opinion?”

She shrugged, trying to look all nonchalant and uncaring even as her heart pounded like crazy in her chest at his proximity; she blamed the caffeine overdose, and decided to start cutting back for real. Oh, and dear Lord above, look at the thick cords of his neck, the solid curve of muscle under that damn t-shirt, those gorgeous eyes spitting blue fire.

C’mon, Zoe, focus.

“Look, Scars.” Her voice came out cool and detached, thank Christ. “You wanted to get laid, and so did I. So, we got laid together. It was mutually beneficial and satisfying, but that’s all it was. And now it’s over.”

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