“Sounds great. Isn’t that enough to settle things for the moment? If we’re done with each other in a week, this seems like an awful lot of unnecessary talk, doesn’t it? And if it lasts for two or three weeks, we’ll take that hurdle when we come to it.”
His face hardened as I spoke. His own questions seemed harsh. “Is that what you think? That we’ll be done with each other in a week? Or two or three?”
I shrugged, closing my eyes as though I might drift off at any moment.
“I don’t want to think about it. However long it lasts, if you’re just honest with me when you’re done, and don’t just start seeing other people without telling me, that’s enough for me.”
He went back to washing and stroking me, tenderly washing and conditioning my hair, silent for a time.
“I would give just about anything to know what’s behind that cool composure of yours. And I would kill to know what you’re thinking,” he whispered against my hair. “I’m so afraid I’ll offend you beyond all repair, and that you’ll never let me know how. You’ll just leave and never speak to me again. Would you do that?”
I never opened my eyes, just shrugging again. Though it was uncanny to me how he’d realized that about me with how little he knew me.
“It’s possible. It’s hard to say without specifics.”
He cursed softly. “I need to feel more secure about this. You terrify me.”
I smiled wryly, eyes still closed.
“Wrong word, Mr. Beautiful. The term you’re looking for is more in-control, not more secure. But I like my life. I’m not making a lot of concessions there, so don’t even try. I’m usually in New York one full day a week. You live there, right?”
“Primarily, yes.”
“Okay, well, I’ll let you know when I’m in New York, and maybe we can meet up somewhere private.”
His arms tightened around me. “This is what I’m talking about. Are you saying this because I’ve somehow offended you? Or are you really so indifferent?”
I suddenly wanted, badly, to leave. He wasn’t one to leave a subject alone until he was satisfied, and I was absolutely done talking about anything that involved my indifference or lack thereof. I felt an instant need to get away from him, away from this feeling of intimacy. It was suddenly unbearable to me.
“I need to get home. I work early.” I stood. I was relieved when he let me step out of the bath.
“Have you eaten dinner?” he asked me, his voice stiff and cool.
I thought about it, my mind going blank. When was the last time I’d eaten? I recalled scarfing down a protein bar as I painted, but that had been all since my yogurt on the plane.
“Um, I guess not,” I finally answered. “But I can grab something later.”
His nostrils flared, his eyes getting a little wild.
“Please, at least stay to eat with me. I’ll feel like a complete bastard if you come here, we do all of that,” he waved a hand at the bedroom, “and you leave as though you can’t even stand to share a meal with me. I have some salmon prepped that only needs fifteen minutes to bake.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I agreed readily enough. I didn’t want to storm out like a drama queen. I would prefer to leave with some dignity after a civilized meal.
He wrapped a towel around me, drying himself quickly and wrapping a towel low around his hips in a mouth-watering display. I looked away. He took off for the kitchen like he was afraid I would leave if it took him too long to get the salmon ready. He was uncanny at reading my intentions…
I slipped my dress back on, having nothing else. The lack of a bra and panties made it into a somewhat obscene outfit, but I didn’t think it mattered. I would be going from James’s house directly to my garage. I could probably get away with being naked, in a pinch.
I towel dried my hair a bit, used the restroom, which I found in it’s own room within the bathroom, and padded barefoot from his room.
I searched for and found the kitchen, but I stopped in the daunting dining room and sat there.
The table was set in almost a romantic fashion, so I assumed this was where we were meant to eat. I’d rather wait in a room by myself than tempt James into trying to have another ‘talk’ with me.
He joined me just a moment later, carrying two delicious looking salads. He set them down on the settings, darting back into the kitchen. He came back with two glasses of water with lemon.
I thought he might have actually forgotten that he was wearing nothing but a damp towel. It was impossible for me to forget such a thing. Looking that incredible should be illegal. He really was tan everywhere. It was a heady sight.
I waited politely for him to sit to my left before eating. It was mixed greens with feta cheese and pecans. I couldn’t put my finger on what the lightly flavored dressing was, but it was quite good.
“It’s delicious,” I told him after a few bites.
He smiled at me. It was a careful smile. He was still in his ‘afraid to offend me’ mood.
“I actually cooked the whole meal tonight. I don’t get to do it often, but I wanted to for you. I can’t pretend, though, that this is a common occurrence. I have a great housekeeper here who usually does most of the cooking at this house.”
I nodded pleasantly, trying not to look uncomfortable with the casual reminder of his wealth.
“Do your parents live in Las Vegas, as well?” he asked me after he’d finished his salad.
I froze, but recovered quickly. “They’re dead,” I said, my face and voice blank.
He looked startled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. What happened?”
“Where do your parents live?” I asked him pointedly, rather than answering.
He looked uncomfortable. “They’re dead as well. They died when I was thirteen, in a car crash.”
I gave him an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. I don’t like to talk about my parents, but I didn’t mean to be insensitive about yours.”