“No.I’m sorry for—” She clasped her hands together to stop their trembling.“Dammit, Adam, say something.”
“Such as?”
“Why are you so calm about this?I waltz in here after being gone almost nine years and it’s like nothing happened.”
He shook his head impatiently.“I don’t have time for reminiscing.I’m not interested in the past.It’s done with.Let it go.I have.”
“You’re lying.”
“And you’re beating a dead horse.”
He moved to walk past her.She touched his arm to stop him.Her fingers brushed against hot, damp skin.A current leapt between them and she jerked back, half expecting to see smoke.He froze in mid-stride, caught between her and the counter.
“What do you want?”he asked, shifting until one hip braced against the cupboard.The T-shirt hung over one shoulder.
She stared at the hem of the garment, studying the tiny stitches as if the answer lay hidden in the weave or the design.
“I’m moving in next door.”
“So?”
“There’s no way to avoid—”
“The hell there isn’t.I don’t want to be friends.I don’t, as a rule, socialize with my neighbors.So your living there doesn’t matter to me.”
She told herself his disinterest came from pain, but a part of her wondered if she was wrong.Was Charlene speaking the truth?Had Adam recovered from what had happened?Did she not matter anymore?
“Billie likes you.”
“And I like her.I’ll be friends with the kid.I don’t need to deal with you for that.”
If only it were that simple.
“So the past means nothing?”she asked.She knew she was really asking ifshemeant nothing.
He shifted.Again she risked raising her gaze to his.The brown irises had darkened to black.The lines bracketing his mouth deepened.
“What do you want from me, Jane?You want me to tell you I still think about you?I can’t, because I don’t.It’s over.I’ve moved on.”
“I’m not asking if you think about—” this was harder than she’d thought “—me.I understand that we’ve both moved on.But I won’t believe you’ve forgotten what happened.How it made you feel.Or what I did.”
He looked away then, staring past her to something she couldn’t see.The curse he mumbled made her flinch.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.“I don’t care.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He shrugged.“Believe what you want.”
What was the old saying?In for a penny, in for a pound.“You once asked me to marry you.”
He laughed harshly, the sound carrying more irritation than humor.“Hell of a coincidence.You once said yes.”His arms folded over his chest.“Don’t push me.I still don’t understandwhat you’re looking for, but I’m the wrong man.You don’t want to get me angry, and that’s about five seconds from happening.”
“At last,” she said, stepping closer, feeling her own temper rise.“The fine, upstanding Adam Barrington.Banker, model citizen.You mean there’s someone inside?Someone real, with feelings?Is that a crack in the old wall there?I’m not completely at fault, you know.You let me go, damn you.Why?Why didn’t you come after me?”
Jane covered her mouth.That wasn’t what she’d planned to say at all.But it was too late.
“Let you go?”He spoke quietly, with a barely controlled rage.The muscles in his arms bulged with the effort of his restraint.His eyes burned with a hot fire that had nothing to do with passion and everything to do with rage.“You walked out on me.Not a word or a note.Just a church full of people and a bride who didn’t bother to show up.”
