Page 74 of What About Love

He lowered his voice and gave a distinct order. “Eyes on me, Angie.”

Slowly, her chin came up. With tears on her lashes, it was like staring at sunshine through the rain, and that rain burned like acid on his soul. His thumbs came up to brush them away, but she pulled back.

“Please. Don’t.” While wiping away the tears on her cheeks with her hands, she blinked back others that threatened to fall. “I’m a big girl. I knew the score. God knows, you warned me often enough you don’t have it in you.”

His words, given back to him, made him feel like an even bigger asshole than he already did. She’d been vulnerable and as the experienced one, he should have controlled himself and kept his goddamn dick in his pants.

She took a deep, steadying breath and repeated, “We need to go.”

This time, he didn’t argue. He had nothing to add other than to sweep her into his arms and tell her he was full of shit, that he wanted her like no woman he’d wanted before, not ever. Except the bitter memories crept in, and like a fool—no, like the pathetic coward he was, he stepped back.

When he’d fastened his pants, he bent and picked up the blanket, draping it around her once more.

“My clothes.”

“One of the attendants will bring them.” He stared down at the top of her head, concerned about her state of mind for the rest of the night. “Are you up to this?”

“This is my job. The sole reason I came here. In the end, nothing else matters.”

This time, her words like a slap made him recoil. But he gave her that, and whatever else she needed to shore up her defenses for what lie ahead tonight. Unfortunately, he didn’t think it would cover what was in store for them back in San Antonio when this was all over.

Chapter 17

WORSE THAN AN UNCOMFORTABLEexit following bad sex and more degrading than the walk of shame in the wake of a drunken one-night stand—she’d had one in college and swore never again—having to sit with T in the lounge until midnight after her one-sided love declaration was the most excruciatingly awkward experience of her life. She couldn’t even fortify herself with alcohol, not when facing a potential date with a killer.

He’d made one more attempt to talk, but she’d waved him off.

“Please, let it go. Don’t make it more difficult than it already is.”

“All right, Angie. Not tonight, with major shit about going down, but trust me on this, we will talk.”

By the determined look on his face and his resolute tone, she knew he believed this was true. He didn’t know her well enough to understand that no way was it going to happen. It would be a bitterly cold day in south Texas before she talked this out. She’d go home, lick her wounds, and try to forget that he’d shattered her heart into a million pieces, but she wouldn’t dissect it or pick it apart. No way, no how. And never, if she had any say over it, would she do so with him.

The bigger problem was how to move on. In particular, how to work at Rossi with a man she vowed to never be alone with again. Feeling his scrutiny, she fidgeted, shifting nervously in her seat, tugging at the microscopic hem of her short, clingy dress, and wishing desperately for the blanket to once again cover her naked back. Thankfully, Eric and Val came up at that moment and joined them.

Val’s face was flushed, and her lips looked puffy like she’d been thoroughly kissed at the very least. Angie felt her face heat because she imagined she appeared the same way.

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