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“I cared.”
“Sure, so you could hit your word count!”
She flinched. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Yeah?” he asked, softly, dangerously. “What was it like, sweetie? Were you just going to lead the poor dull Wall Street broker along by the balls until you could get back to pineapple vodka shots with your collection of wannabe actors?”
“At least those wannabe actors want something more out of their life than baseball!” she shouted.
For the first time something hot and guilty flashed across his face, and Julie zeroed in on it. “This was never even about baseball, was it? This all comes down to some ridiculous sense of male pride. Evelyn kept your balls locked up in her jewelry box, and you thought you could get them back by getting me into bed, only to shove me back out again when you were bored.”
Mitchell lifted a shoulder, bored mask back in place. “You came willingly enough. Pun intended.”
“You’re disgusting.” Julie was all but hissing now, wondering how she ever could have cared about this cold man. Wondering how she ever could have thought he cared about her.
He took a half step closer. “Go ahead, babe, get all up on your high horse, because writing a column in a magazine about lipstick and blow jobs is such a moral cause. You’re right up there with Red Cross and cancer runs.”
“I wasn’t going to write the story!” she exploded.
He blinked, and for a moment she thought she saw something raw flare in his navy eyes, but the shutters slammed down just as quickly and he resumed his insolent glare. “No? And when did you decide that? Right after our friend Allen exposed you?”
She wanted to tell him that she’d decided before any of the shit had hit the fan. But he didn’t deserve that knowledge. Not now.
“At least I had intentions of calling it off,” she said instead. “What were you doing talking to your friend here, collecting?”
Kelli’s boyfriend stepped forward, looking earnest but nervous as hell. “Actually—”
“Shut up, Colin,” Mitchell said coldly.
“Were you ever planning to tell me about the bet?” she pressed on. “Or were you just going to sweep it under the carpet?”
His silence was answer enough, and she felt the knife dig just a little deeper. “Jesus, Mitchell. At least I was going to come clean.”
“Yeah, after you got what you wanted.” His arms folded over his chest, making him look completely closed off. Completely unreachable.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Mitchell,” she said, some of the fight going out of her.
“Don’t worry. You didn’t.”
Translation: He didn’t care enough to be hurt. Wouldn’t let himself care enough.
She lifted her hands helplessly before letting them fall back to her side. “So that’s it? We’re done? Just like that?”
“One could argue we never started.”
“But we did,” she said. Okay, so she was on the verge of begging, but damn it, she knew whatever they had was worth fighting for. Knew that it hadn’t all been about the bet. At the start, maybe, but not last night. And not this morning. That had been real.
“Babe, I was just seeing how far I could take you.”
Liar.
“But I love you,” she choked out, allowing all of her pride to puddle at her feet as she laid herself bare.
Mitchell’s dimples flashed as a gentle hand came up to stroke a finger over her cheekbone before he leaned in close. “Well done, Jules. That’s a great touch for your story.”
Without a backward glance, he walked out the door.
Julie’s knees buckled and she sank to the floor, her chin tucking into her chest as she grabbed her stomach, as though if she could just hold herself together tightly enough, the pain would stop.
