“Stop.”
He sat up. “I want to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” she said with exasperation.
“The way you wouldn’t really connect.”
“How do you know it wasn’t your fault?” She felt terrible the moment she’d said it. It wasn’t his fault at all. She just didn’t want to address the truth.
Fortunately, he didn’t let her get away with it. “Because I watched you. Every time you got close you’d simply…shut down.”
And then he’d try harder. To no avail. “I just…couldn’t, okay?”
“It’s not a physical problem…”
The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “No.”
“Then why wouldn’t you share that moment with me? You knew I wanted it.”
She started looking for her clothes. “You got what you wanted,” she muttered.
“I got half of what I wanted.”
Her shirt was on the floor. Where her panties had gone, she had no idea.
“Is it because of your ex?” he asked when she didn’t respond.
“I don’t think so,” she said. She could blame Tom for a lot, but not for that. Guilt stood in her way, for stealing what she had no business taking. And bad memories—the people who’d been killed because of their association with her. She couldn’t stand the fact that she was dragging Myles into the mess that was her life.
“What, then? You thought I wouldn’t notice?”
She’d thought he wouldn’t care. “I’ve got…issues. Surely that’s no surprise to you.” At last she found her panties, under his jeans.
He stood and watched her as she put them on, which made her more than a little self-conscious. “If you were going to hold out on me, why’d you want to make love at all? I thought a good climax or two, or maybe ten, was what you wanted.”
So had she. She’d assumed she’d indulge her body and the cravings that’d become so troublesome would go away. But she hadn’t realized that she wanted much more than a one-night stand, even a one-night stand with the man she’d been fantasizing about for well over a year. When she looked at Myles or touched him or kissed him…
Stop. She couldn’t even think it. That acknowledgment would only make matters worse. “I’m fine, okay? You were fantastic. I’m sorry if I didn’t moan loudly enough.”
She was being flippant, hadn’t really meant it, but it made him angry all the same. She could tell by the muscle that jumped in his cheek. “Don’t patronize me,” he growled. “I’m not looking for an ego boost.”
She couldn’t handle arguing with him. Not on top of everything else. She raised a hand. “Please, I don’t want this to end badly.”
“Neither do I. But I’m willing to go let that happen if it means I’ll finally get some honesty.”
“You want honesty?”
“That’s exactly what I want!”
She held her shirt to her chest. “How about you give me some honesty first?”
“Fine.” He put his hands on his hips, completely indifferent to his nudity. But he had no reason to be self-conscious. Every inch of his body was lean and well-toned. “What do you want to know?”
She hurried to finish dressing. She’d revealed too much, literally and figuratively. She should never have started this.
“Well?” he demanded.
Feeling safer once she had her clothes on, she whirled to face him. “Do you have any idea who murdered Pat?”
Rocking back, he threw up his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The murder? That’s what this is about? You thought you could trade a piece of ass for the insider scoop?”
“Quit making everything worse! I just…I need to know.”
“We all need to know. But it hasn’t been determined. I’m not sure we’ll ever learn the answer. We’re doing what we can and that’s what we’ll continue to do. There isn’t enough to go on.”
“The autopsy had to show something.”
“If you call death by blunt-force trauma something. I could tell that much by looking at him.”
“Have you found the can opener?”
He stepped toward her. “You heard about the can opener?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Gertie’s been talking about it.”
“Damn it! That isn’t information I want circulating around the community, Vivian. If I’m lucky enough to find the bastard who murdered Pat, that detail might’ve been helpful in putting him away, but it’ll be useless if everyone knows about it.”
“I understand why you’d be worried, but—”
“I don’t think you do.”
Curving her fingernails into her palms, Vivian drew a calming breath and lowered her voice. “I just said I did. Why are you so worked up?”
“Because I’m pissed off! And I’m not even sure I can tell you why.”
She handed him his boxers. “If it’s about the case, there’s no reason to take it out on me.”
“It’s not the case. At least, it’s not only the case.”
“You’re saying it’s me.”
“Yes! You gave me everything I could ask for tonight. And yet…forget it.” Unable to explain further, he thrust one leg, then the other, into his underwear.
She brought his jeans next. “Do you always act this way after sex?”
He didn’t bother buttoning his fly. Standing there without a shirt, his hair mussed from her hands, a five-o’clock shadow covering his jaw, he was pretty damn appealing. Maybe even more appealing than before they’d made love. And that scared her. What had just happened here was supposed to be enough to satisfy her. It had to be enough.
“Don’t you understand?” he said. “Trying to reach you is like…grasping at smoke!”
She winced. He was right. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t change that without leaving him open to more pain and loss than he’d already experienced.
When he seemed to realize his words had stung her, he scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve…you’ve been through something terrible. That you’ve been hurt. Is it too much to ask to get to know you? What do I have to do?”
A lump grew in her throat. This was a disaster, the worst thing she could’ve done. Instead of feeling better, liberated, free from all that pent-up longing and desire, she felt as if she’d rolled around on broken glass and was bleeding from little cuts all over her body.