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It was only one night. At least, that was what Adriana had insisted all these years. Francesca wanted to hear Jonah say it, too. But he didn’t give her the satisfaction. He didn’t even attempt to defend himself.
“You’re right. She got it the old-fashioned way. And I enjoyed every minute of it, okay? Too bad she’s married. Maybe we could go at it again, since a good lay is all that’s ever mattered to me.”
Francesca winced even though she knew he didn’t mean it. Couldn’t mean it. He was being purposely nasty. All the tension they’d felt since running into each other again was bubbling to the surface, slamming one jagged emotion into another. “What if Adriana and I had both gotten pregnant?” she asked again.
“Then I would’ve walked out on you the way I walked out on her,” he said, his eyes glittering with reckless abandon. “Convinced you to give away my own flesh and blood. Never looked back. How can you expect anything more from a guy like me?”
“I don’t know how I couldn’t see it,” she whispered.
She didn’t need to spell it out. She could tell he knew she meant that he’d managed to deceive her, that she’d once thought so much more highly of him than he deserved.
“I guess you never looked close enough.”
That muscle twitched in his cheek again, but she ignored it. Instead, she fought the tears clogging her throat. “At least I see you more clearly now.”
“Good. Then you’ll know to keep your distance. Dealing with me isn’t for the emotionally fragile.”
“Emotionally fragile?” She barked a laugh. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried. Not anymore.”
“Oh, yeah? You think I can’t sense the chemistry between us? It’s not gone, Francesca. Whether you admit it or not, it’s far from gone.”
“What chemistry? You mean sexual attraction? So what if it’s still there? It’s all physical. You think I can’t enjoy a free ride and walk away when it’s over just as easily as you can?”
He twisted in his seat to confront her more directly. “Is that what you want from me? A free ride? For old times’ sake?”
It seemed that the color had drained from his face but in the failing light she couldn’t be certain, and the edge to his voice challenged her to prove her words. “What’s wrong with a cheap thrill? That’s what you gave my best friend, isn’t it? That’s what you offer every girl you meet. Why should I be any different? Apparently, it was my mistake to expect more when we were together.”
His gaze raked over her chest before moving lower and suddenly she wanted his hands every place his eyes touched. The tightly leashed aggression simmering inside him didn’t frighten her. If they came together now, if they made love only to quench the desire clawing at her belly, she could have what she wanted without being forced to acknowledge that what she felt might be more than lust.
“Get in the back,” he snapped.
To show him how much she resented him and the effect he had on her, she narrowed her eyes. “Make me.”
His muscles contracted but he didn’t reach for her. Dropping his head against the seat, he filled his lungs with the same air she was breathing—air that smelled of both of them, air they’d warmed with their angry words and the heat of their aroused bodies.
“What’s the matter?” she asked when he made no move. “Don’t tell me Casanova’s lost his touch.”
He swallowed but didn’t open his eyes. “Sorry, I’m not interested.”
Francesca wasn’t sure why he’d changed his mind suddenly. Sexual tension radiated from him, proving the exact opposite of his words. So why was he holding back? What did he have to lose?
Afraid he really would deny her, she took his hand and placed it on her breast. “What’s the matter? Sex no fun unless you’re cheating on someone? Why not pretend you’ve got a wife at home? That should get you hot.”
The fingers that had started to cup her breast stiffened, and deep furrows formed between his eyebrows. She’d stung him with that barb; she could tell. But she refused to regret it. She wanted him too badly—but she didn’t want to love him.
“If you expect to be treated like a whore, you’re going to have to find someone else,” he said, and got out of the van.
* * *
Jonah strode down the dirt road, away from the salvage yard, as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure what had just happened but whatever it was, it’d felt as if Francesca had carved out his heart and served it up on a platter. He couldn’t catch his breath, slow his racing pulse or feel anything except the overwhelming desire that had prompted him to make a difficult situation even worse.
What if Adriana and I had both gotten pregnant?
Did Francesca really believe he could’ve turned his back on her? He’d felt nothing more than mild friendship for Adriana, yet giving up their baby, giving up Summer, had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He thought of it, went through all the reasons it had to be the way it was, almost every day. But he could never have agreed to the adoption if that’d been his and Francesca’s child.
But there was no point in trying to convince her otherwise. She would never understand that he’d honestly loved her. To her, his actions proved otherwise.
If only it could be that simple, that straightforward. But it wasn’t. And because she didn’t think he had feelings, she didn’t mind stomping all over them every chance she got.
