“What happened?” he demanded, getting out of bed and coming to stand in front of her. At some point he’d slipped on his shorts and a T-shirt.
Thank heavens she didn’t have the added distraction of his bare bod.
“One minute we’re enjoying ourselves, getting along famously, and the next minute you’re running around looking for an exit like your hair’s on fire.”
What happened? Oh, you simply turned my world inside out, upside down, and shook it with the force of a major earthquake, that’s all.
“Nothing happened.” She didn’t look at him, just shrugged into her bra.
He grabbed her chin in his palm and forced her face up to meet his. His dark eyes troubled.
“What?” he demanded.
Something sharp and irrevocable broke loose in her chest, like a glacier calving. Her heart beat faster, her breathing grew shallow, and her knees buckled. If Gage hadn’t slipped an arm around her waist, she would have slunk to the floor.
“Are you all right?” he asked huskily, nuzzling her neck. He hadn’t yet shaved, and his stubble scratched her skin. “You look pale.”
Damn him for being concerned about her. She twisted from his grasp, took three steps backward, and bumped into the wall. She knew what he wanted, but she wasn’t ready for this intimacy, this closeness, this loss of herself in the circle of a couple. And she wasn’t sure she could become the woman she saw reflected in Gage’s eyes.
“I’m scared, okay? Chicken as a Rhode Island Red. Brwk, brwk, brwk,” she clucked, tucking her hands into her armpits and flapping her arms like wings in a lame poultry imitation. She joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
It didn’t help.
Gage looked almost grim. “Scared of what?”
She shrugged. “Let’s not make a federal case out of it.”
“Talk to me, dammit.”
She’d never seen him lose his cool. Or act so forcefully. It was thrilling and disconcerting. She really didn’t know him at all.
He towered over her, his mouth inches from hers. She looked up at him and gulped. She disliked relying on him. Disliked revealing too much of herself. She had been independent for so long, and completely in charge of her well-planned life.
But here he was, shooting those plans all to hell. She hated the fact that with Gage, her emotions flew out of control.
Terrified, she grasped at straws, saying the one thing she knew would stop him in his tracks.
“I’m scared that you’re trying too hard to take care of me. Expecting my every need, catering to my desires. I won’t have it, Gage. I’m too independent for this, for you. The last thing I want is to be some man’s pet project.”
The last thing I want is to be some man’s pet project.
Hadn’t Pauline uttered similar words when she’d left him? Hadn’t he learned one damn thing from that relationship?
I’m too independent for you, he mouthed in imitation of Janet and fiercely shook his head.
Okay. Fine. Terrific. If that’s the way she wanted it, then he was out of here. He was through with trying to please women. They just drove a man nuts, anyway.
He should never have tried to protect her from her mother’s matchmaking or her father’s disdain. It had been her problem, not his.
Chump.
So what if they’d just shared the best lovemaking of his life—and he meant lovemaking and not simply sex? She didn’t want him.
Nimrod.
So what if just being near her made his blood heat and his pulse race? Big deal. It sounded like the friggin’ flu.
Goober.
Gage jammed his feet in his sneakers, then grabbed his duffel from where he’d slung it in the corner on the night they’d arrived. He snatched a pair of jeans from the floor and stuffed them in the duffel. He hazarded a glance in her direction.
Janet had her suitcase open on the bed. She pitched her hairs products and makeup bag inside. She was breathing hard, her nostrils flaring.
Great. Now she was having a hissy fit.
He could go her one better. He stalked to the bathroom, retrieved his shaving kit, and slammed it into the duffel with an exaggerated flourish.
Janet scooped her clothes from the dresser drawer and flung them in the suitcase. Her face flushed, and her chest heaved. She met his gaze and glared.
But her trembling chin gave her away.
Wait a minute. Janet didn’t lose control of her emotions. Not unless she really cared about something.
That thought stopped him cold.
“This isn’t about me at all, is it?” he accused, resting his hands on his hips.
“Yes, it is.” She dropped her gaze. “You feel as if you have to take care of everyone. Well, I don’t need taking care of.”
“No, you’re just afraid to let yourself love me and you’re clinging to any excuse to dump me.” When he heard her sharp intake of breath, he knew he’d hit a nerve.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she declared.
“Yeah, that’s right. You fooled me for a minute there, homing in on my weaknesses, but this isn’t about me taking care of you; this is about you not getting the love you needed from your father. You’re scared to death that you inherited his inability to show love.”
“I’m not,” she whimpered and sank onto the edge of the bed. But in her denial, he heard the truth.
Suddenly, he saw it all so clearly. “That’s why you don’t believe in true love; that’s why you’re worried about having children. You don’t think you can love.”
It was as if he’d cracked open her chest and seen what was inside her heart. Janet gulped. There wasn’t enough air in the room. She felt light-headed and confused and... empty.
Biting down on her bottom lip to keep the tears at bay, she got up to finish packing. She jerked her jacket from where
