Page 53 of Midnight Secrets

“Excuse me, Detective.”

My molars ground together. “We’re back to that, huh?”

She just raised an eyebrow.

“Look, can we just agree the timing sucks? Maybe in the future?—”

Faster than I thought she could move with a bum leg and crutches, she stepped around me. “I’m not pining away for you, so don’t count on the future.”

“Claire—”

“We’re going to be late.” She reached the door and pulled it open, her crutch clattering against the panel as she attempted to maneuver through.

Tipping my face skyward and growling softly in frustration, I hurried over, grabbing the door’s edge to hold it for her.

“Thank you.” Head held high, she swung through.

At the elevator, she stabbed the button with her index finger.

I folded my hands over the top of the suitcase handles, staring at the light above the elevator.

My eyes flicked toward her. She, too, stared at the indicator, her expression blank.

How did I make this right? How did I make her understand where I was coming from?

Ididlike her. She had to know that. The kiss we shared made that fairly obvious. But why couldn’t she understand my reservations?

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I waited for her to enter, then got on. She pushed the button for the first floor.

As the doors slid shut, I glanced at her again. She still had that carefully blank expression on her face.

It hit me then that maybe she wasn’t upset I didn’t want to move forward right now. Maybe she was hurt that I essentially promised her more and then took that away.

“I’m sorry if I led you on. That was not my intention. I never wanted to hurt you.”

She looked at me, that carefully-crafted mask still in place. “I didn’t say you did.”

The first bite of anger took hold. Why was she being so obstinate? “Then what is it?” I asked, my tone sharp. “Yesterday, I thought we were on the road to being friends. Then things got a little heated, and I made it clear I can’t pursue a relationship with you. Now you act like I’m a pariah or something. Clearly, you’re angry at me.”

“It’s not that.” Her eyes flashed fire and color popped on her cheeks. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself. Because I heard you, and I know the timing is wrong, but that doesn’t change the fact that I wish the elevator would get stuck somaybethe embers that erupted last night could catch fire again.” Chest heaving and the low burn of need in her eyes, she stared at me.

The elevator dinged and the doors rumbled open.

Letting out a frustrated, screechy growl, she whirled toward the opening on her crutches and hurried out.

My mind glitched, like a lagging internet connection.

What?

The doors began to slide closed.

Cursing under my breath, I shoved my carry-on forward, making the doors reverse direction.

She was pissed because she wanted me? And didn’t want to want me?

My ego sat up and purred.

And rightfully so. I’d dated beautiful women. Successful ones too. But there was something about Claire Holmes that was just… classy. And wholesome. Sure, she was beautiful and successful, but she was also kind and funny. There was no artifice about her, and it seemed like she truly cared about people.

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