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But he wouldn’t be deterred. Some perverse part of him needed to know. “You just said you found him attractive. Does that mean you’re planning to kiss him?”
“Maybe I am,” she replied, yanking her arm free. “And so what? Unlike you, I can care again. Just because you’ve declared yourself dead doesn’t mean I have to.”
“Then you are planning to kiss him.”
“Whether I do or don’t is none of your business.”
Armando wasn’t sure if it was the assertiveness or the imaginings assaulting his brain, but he couldn’t let her go. Grabbing her wrist a second time, he pulled her close. Caught off guard, her body fell into his, enabling him to slip his free arm around her waist.
“Let me go,” she said.
The gentleman inside him was about to when he looked into her eyes. Beautiful, fiery eyes demanding answers. And all of a sudden, he had them. The emotions that had been swirling inside him since the concert came together with astonishing clarity. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in to kiss her.
She jerked her head back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I—” He was acting on instinct. “I’m sorry.”
Breaking their embrace, he walked over to the stairway and sat down, the irony of the location not lost on him. With his eyes focused on the floor, he listened to the sounds of Rosa straightening her dress. “I want you,” he said simply.
She let out a noise that sounded like a snort. “Seriously?” she said. “Five days ago you stood in your office and apologized for wanting me, said you weren’t being fair to me. And now all of a sudden you’re doing everything you apologized about?”
“I know. My actions don’t make much sense.”
“They don’t make any sense, Armando.”
Seeing her standing there so gloriously indignant, Armando’s stomach lurched. How could he have been so blind? “I only realized myself,” he said.
“Realized what?”
“How much I care.”
The color drained from her cheeks. “Care?” Her voice cracked with emotion as she repeated the word. The sound forced Armando to his feet, but when he reached out, she held up her hand. “For three years, I’ve listened to how your heart was buried with Christina.”
“I thought it was.” In fact, if someone had asked him eight hours ago, he would have given that very answer. “Then tonight, when I saw you and Darius...”
“That’s your possessiveness talking,” she said. “I’ve seen it before. Darius paid attention to me, so suddenly you decide you don’t want to share. Then, soon as his interest wanes...” She shrugged.
“No.” Damn Fredo. No doubt her ex was responsible for that kind of thinking. “I mean, yes,” he continued. “I won’t lie. I wanted to break Darius’s finger every time he touched you. But my jealousy was only the final piece of the puzzle. What I’m feeling inside...”
She was facing away from him. Seemed that was her favorite position tonight, giving him the cold shoulder. Curling his hands around those shoulders, he buried his nose in her hair for a moment before struggling to find the right words.
“Have you ever looked through an unfocused telescope, only to turn the knob and make everything sharp and clear?” he asked.
Rosa nodded.
“That is what it was like for me, a few minutes ago. One moment I had all these sensations I couldn’t explain swirling inside me, then the next everything made sense. The way your kisses haunted me, the fact I wanted to deport Darius for kissing your hand—they weren’t isolated sensations at all. They were my soul coming back to life.”
“Just like that?” She still sounded skeptical, but she had continued leaning against him. Armando took that as progress.
“Like a bolt of lightning,” he said, kissing her neck again.
She pulled away, leaving him standing in the middle of the archway by himself. “You don’t believe me.”
“I...”
“Or...” A second thought came to him. About how easily she brushed off his apology as his ego. “Is it that you don’t care?”
So excited had he been about his revelation that he didn’t stop to think that she might not share his feelings. He was ashamed of himself, although not nearly as ashamed as he was disappointed. Having come back to life, he desperately wanted her to feel the same intensity of desire and need that he felt.
Still, if she didn’t, he had no choice but to respect her wishes. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable,” he told her. “I let my enthusiasm cloud my judgment.”
