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“Let me,” he said.
She could hardly meet his eyes as he gently wiped her mouth, afraid of the censure she’d see in his gaze.
“Hey,” he said softly. He put his fingers under her chin and raised her face to his, and what she saw in his eyes was compassion.
It made her want to lean forward and rest her head against his chest, but she knew better than to do that.
He was being kind. Not what she’d expected from him. And the last thing she needed. Too much kindness and she’d fall apart.
“I’m—I’m okay.”
He nodded. “You will be. Getting all that booze out of your system helps.”
“It isn’t the tequila,” she heard herself say, and could have bitten off her tongue, but he didn’t pick up on it.
Instead, he smiled.
“It never is. And if it makes you feel any better, I’m not a novice at this. Heck, I have three sisters, all younger than I am, and I remember helping them clean up after a party.”
It wasn’t true.
He’d never had to do anything like that for Em or Lissa or Jaimie. If they’d gotten themselves plastered—and now that he thought about it, he figured the odds were good they each must have, at least once in their teen years—they’d covered for each other.
He, Jake and Caleb had covered for each other, too.
Genevieve had nobody to turn to.
Nobody but him.
The thought put a little twist in his gut.
Her face was pale; the elastic thing, whatever women called it, around her ponytail had come loose and strands of pale blond hair were in her eyes.
He tucked the strands behind her ears.
“Okay now?” he said quietly.
She nodded.
He steadied her with one hand, reached into the ’Vette, opened the console, took out a small bottle of water. He opened it; she held out her hand but she was still trembling.
“Here,” he said, bringing the bottle to her lips.
She tilted her head back. Drank. Rinsed her mouth, then spat out the water.
“Thank you.”
“Finish it.”
“I really don’t want—”
“Water will make you feel better.”
He tilted the bottle to her lips again; she put her hand over his so she could lift it higher. His skin was warm, the feel of his fingers under hers reassuring.
“Good girl,” he said, and she, a lifelong advocate for women’s rights, felt herself glow under the words of what any self-respecting feminist would call sexist praise.
He capped the empty bottle, tossed it into the back of the car.
“Want to stay here, get a little more fresh air?”
“No. I feel much better.”
“Are you sure?”
She couldn’t bear the way he was looking at her, his eyes warm not only with compassion but with sympathy. She couldn’t tolerate anything close to pity; it was the reason she’d left New England and come here, where nobody knew her.
And now there was this man who had suddenly turned sweet and generous and kind...
“I’m sure.” She stood a little straighter. “Look, I know you’re afraid I’m going to get sick in your car—”
“I’m not worried about the car.”
“Of course you are. Why else would you give a damn?”
Good. That cold glare was in his eye again.
“You have one hell of an opinion of me.”
“It only matches your opinion of me.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again.
“Okay,” he said, after a minute, “how about a truce?”
Her eyes met his. She shrugged.
“Fine.”
He smiled. “Lots of enthusiasm in that word, Genevieve.”
She stood straighter.
“My name isn’t Genevieve.” She took a deep breath. What did it matter what he called her? And yet, somehow, it did. “My name is Jennifer. Jennie.”
He raised one dark eyebrow. “Why the pseudonym?”
“It wasn’t a pseudonym.”
The corner of his lips twitched.
“What else would you call using a phony name?”
She considered not answering, but she owed him some kind of honesty, even if it was only the smallest bit.
“I used a different name because—because that wasn’t me last Friday night, okay? That—that creature who got all dressed up and headed into that bar. I wasn’t that woman who—who went home with a strange man and—and—”
She felt her eyes fill with tears, and wasn’t that pathetic? She looked away from him, or would have, but he caught her face in his hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.
“You weren’t a creature. You were a beautiful woman. Brave, too.”
His voice was soft. She didn’t want softness, dammit. She wanted him to be the callous bastard she’d pegged him for.
She didn’t want to like him.
She didn’t want to need him.
She couldn’t need anybody.
Not now. Not ever. Not—
“Baby,” he said, not just softly but gently. It was too much, and she had to deal with it.
“And my name certainly isn’t ‘baby,’ either.” She jerked free of his hands. “So if you think a—a ration of Texas sweet-talk is going to make me dumb enough to sleep with you again—”
He let go of her, fast. So much for declaring a truce.
“Your mama should have taught you that it’s polite to wait until you’re asked.” His eyes narrowed to icy slits. “Do us both a favor, Genevieve. Get back in the car so I can take you home and know we’ll never have the misfortune to see each other again.”
His comment had been no nastier than hers, but it hurt. She wanted to zing back a clever response, then walk away, but her brain was foggy, they were miles from her apartment—and she knew damned well that on this particular night, walking home wasn’t an option.
“An excellent plan, Mr. Wilde,” she said coldly. “And thanks again for reminding me that you are, indeed, a callous, pluperfect rat.”
It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do.
She swung away. A sharp pain lanced through her head; the earth tilted. She gave it a couple of seconds until things steadied. Then she got into the car.
He got in on his side, slammed the door hard enough to make her jump.
The car flew into the night, and Jennie prayed that the pain in her head wouldn’t get so bad that it would make her weep.
* * *
Neither of them said anything more until Travis turned onto her street, and into the garden apartment complex in which she lived.
The pain in her head had eased off. A minor miracle, but it wouldn’t last. She needed to take a pill before it returned.
“Which building?” he said.
“You can stop at the corner.”
“I can stop in front of your door. Which building?”
“You don’t have to—”
“You’re right, I don’t. But I will. For the last time, which building?”
God, he was impossible. Maybe some women liked to be bossed around but she wasn’t one of them. Still, if it got her home faster...
“That one,” she said. “At the corner.”
He drove to the end of the block, then into the driveway that led behind the building.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer but then, he didn’t have to. What he was doing was obvious.
He was pulling into a slot in the small parking area.
“I’m seeing you to your door,” he said brusquely.
“That is absolutely not—”
She was talking to the air. He was out of the car, already opening her door.
Jennie rolled her eyes and stepped outside.
“Do you always ignore people’s wishes, Mr. Wilde?”
“Only when their wishes don’t make sense, Miss...?”
“Cooper,” she snap
ped.
“Only when their wishes don’t make sense, Miss Cooper. Twenty minutes ago, you were tossing your cookies.”
“That’s a horrible phrase!”
“It isn’t as bad as the act itself.”
They were walking toward the back entrance to her two-story building. He tried to take her arm; she shook him off.
It was a stupid thing to do, considering that it was dark—one of the lights over the door had burned out—and the lot had potholes big enough to swallow you whole.
Inevitably she stumbled.
Just as inevitably, he caught her, put his arm around her waist.
“I don’t need—”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Dammit, Wilde—”
“Great,” he said tightly. “No more ‘mister.’ At least we’ll be on a less formal basis before you go facedown out here.”
“I hate to spoil that lovely image but it won’t happen. I’m much better now, thank you very much, and you’ve brought me to my door, so—”
“Keys.”
“What is wrong with you? I just said—”
“I’m taking you to your apartment. Keys.”
He held out his free hand, snapped his fingers—and was rewarded with the sight of her chin lifting and her eyes narrowing.
Damned if she didn’t look like she wanted to slug him.
He fought against a smile.
No matter what, you had to admire her spirit. All dressed up for a night on the town, dressed down for a night with friends, sick or not, Jennie Cooper was one interesting woman.
