I’m In No Mood For Love

He shrugged. “You stood up, stripped out of your clothes, then crawled back in bed. It was quite a show.”

“Is there more?”

He smiled a little. “Yeah. I lied about the guy in the bar at the Double Tree. The one with the baseball cap and wife beater.”

“About drinking Jagermeister?” she asked hopefully.

“Oh no. You were definitely knocking back the Jagermeister, but he wasn’t missing any teeth and he didn’t have a nose ring.”

Which wasn’t much of a relief. “Is that it?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t know if she believed him. Even though he’d brought her the earring and spared her the embarrassing explanation in front of her friends, she didn’t think he’d lie to spare her feelings. God knew, he never had in the past. Her hand tightened around the diamond in her palm. “Well, thank you for bringing the earring to me.”

He grinned. “I have an ulterior motive.”

Of course he did.

“You look worried.” He raised his hands in the air as if surrendering. “I promise it won’t hurt a bit.”

She turned away and placed the earring in the cloisonne dish on the coffee table. “The last time you said that, you talked me into playing doctor.” She straightened and pointed to her chest. “I ended up buck naked.”

“Yeah,” he said as he laughed. “I remember, but it wasn’t like you didn’t want to play.”

Saying no had always been her problem. Not any longer. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“I don’t have to know.”

“How about if I promise that you won’t end up naked this time?” His gaze slid to her mouth, down her throat, and to her finger, resting on her dress, between her breasts. “Unless you insist.”

She picked up the three empty glasses and champagne bottle. “Forget it,” she said through a sigh as she walked from the room.

“All I need are a few ideas about what I should get my father for the party Saturday.”

She looked back at him. “Is that all?” There had to be more.

“Yeah. Since I had to drop off the earring, I thought you could point me in the right direction. Give me some ideas. Although Dad and I are trying to get to know each other again, you know him better than I do.”

Okay, so now she felt bad. She was being judgmental, and that wasn’t fair. He’d been a smooth-talking flimflammer as a child, but that was a long time ago. She certainly didn’t want to be judged by things she’d said and done as a girl. “I got him an antique wooden duck,” she answered, and entered the kitchen, the heels of her sandals tapping across the hardwood floors. “Maybe you could get him a book on wood carving.”

“A book would be good.” Sebastian followed. “What do you think of a new fishing pole?”

“I wasn’t aware that he fished these days.” Clare set the glasses and bottle on the granite island in the middle of the kitchen.

“He and I pulled a few trout out of the reservoir this afternoon.” He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “His gear is fairly dated, so I thought I’d get him a newer setup.”

“With him, you have to pay attention to brands.”

“That’s why I thought you could help me out. I wrote down what we’ll need.”

She stopped and slowly turned toward him. “We’ll?”

He shrugged. “Sure. You’ll go along. Right?”

Something wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t looking her in the eyes and…She sucked in a breath and the real reason for his unannounced visit became crystal clear. “There’s no ‘we’ll,’ is there? You came here to talk me into getting your father a fishing pole. By myself.”

He looked at her then and gave her his most charming smile. “Honey, I don’t know where the sporting goods stores are in this town. And really, there’s no point in both of us going.”

“Don’t honey me.” She was such a fool. She’d given him the benefit of the doubt, felt bad for misjudging him, and here he was, standing in her kitchen attempting a bait and switch. She folded her arms across her chest. “No.”

“Why not?” He dropped his hands to his sides. “Women love to shop.”

“For shoes. Not fishing poles. Duh!” She groaned inwardly and closed her eyes. Had she just said Duh? Like she was ten again?

Clearly amused, Sebastian laughed. “Duh? What’s next? Are you going to call me a numb nut?”

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “Good-bye, Sebastian,” she said as she moved to the kitchen doorway. She stopped and pointed to the front of her house. “You are on your own.”

He pushed away from the counter and moved toward her. Slow and easy, as if he wasn’t in a big hurry to comply to her demand. “Your friends are right, you know.”

Good God! Had he overheard the heft conversation?

As he walked past her, he paused and said next to her ear, “You might not have been the cutest little girl in patent leather shoes, but you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Especially when you’re all worked up.”

He smelled good, and if she turned her face just a little she could bury her nose in his neck. The desire to do so alarmed her, and she kept as still as possible. “Forget it. I’m not doing your shopping for you.”

“Please?”

“Not a chance.”

“What if I get lost?”

“Get a map.”

“Don’t need one. The Land Cruiser has a navigation system.” He chuckled and pulled back. “You were more fun as a kid.”

“I was more gullible. I’m not a little girl now and you can’t trick me, Sebastian.”

“Clare, you wanted me to trick you.” He smiled and moved to the front door. “You still do,” he said, and was gone before she could argue or utter a good-bye or good riddance.

She walked back into the kitchen, reached for the champagne glasses, and set them next to the sink. Ridiculous. She hadn’t wanted to be tricked. She’d just wanted him to like her. She turned on the faucet and added a few drops of lemon fresh Joy. She’d just wanted him to like her. She supposed that was the story of her life. Sad and a little pathetic, but true.

The water ran for a few moments before she turned off the faucet and placed the glasses in the warm soapy water. If she were honest and took a good hard look at her past, she could see the same destructive patterns in her life. If she were honest, the kind of honest that was painful to look at, she’d admit that she was letting her childhood influence her adult life.

Admitting that really did bite the big one, but it was too obvious to ignore. She’d absolutely refused to consider it for so long because it was such a cliche, and she hated cliches. She hated to write them, but more than that, she hated being one.

In college she’d taken sociology classes and read the studies conducted on children raised in single parent homes. She had thought she’d escaped the statistics, which found that girls raised without fathers were more likely to engage in greater and earlier sexual activities and were at a greater risk of suicide and criminality. She’d never had one single thought of suicide, never been arrested, and was a freshman in college when she’d lost her virginity. Her friends from two-parent homes had lost theirs in high school. Therefore, she’d convinced herself that she did not have the classic “daddy issues.”

No, she hadn’t been sexually promiscuous. Just emotionally hollow and subconsciously seeking male approval to fill the empty places inside. And she didn’t have to look very hard at her life to discover why she always searched for male attention to make herself feel whole.

Clare washed the glasses and set them on a towel to dry. For all intents and purposes, she’d been raised without a father. On those occasions when she visited her dad, he always had a beautiful woman living with him. A different beautiful woman. To a little girl with thick glasses and a wide mouth that didn’t fit her face, all those beautiful women had made her feel even more unattractive and insecure. It hadn’t been their fault. Most of the women were kind to her. Nor had it been her fault. She’d been a child-it was just life, her life-and she was still letting those old insecurities influence her relationships with men. After all these years.

Clare reached into a drawer and pulled out a towel. As she dried her hands, she came to a painful realization.