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He braced his palms on the counter and continued in that low voice so full of tortured emotion it made her heart ache.
“You were pretty evasive the other night, and certain you didn’t want to call the police. Without knowing the whole story, I wasn’t going to force a decision like that on you just to make myself look better.”
His refusal
to use her to help himself was the exact opposite of what Jackson would’ve done. She swallowed hard and dropped her gaze from his. It made no sense to feel ashamed when she knew she was in no way at fault, yet she found she couldn’t look him in the eye.
“He tried,” she finally admitted. From beneath her lashes, she saw his fingers clench. “I kneed him, he hit me, and that’s when the neighbor came out. And I told everything to Officer Nilsen just now.”
White appeared on his knuckles. “I suspected it was something like that, but he’s damn lucky I didn’t know for sure when I went over there.”
That protective, almost possessive statement brought her head up again. But man, she had to be careful or all her emotions would be written all over her face. “Then you know exactly why I want to help you.”
He gave a tired sigh as he straightened and turned to refill his mug. “I’m not having this conversation with you again.”
“Why not?”
“Because I already told you it’s not a good idea, and I don’t feel like repeating myself.”
“Give me one good reason why and I’ll shut up.”
“It’s not safe,” he ground out. “You should already know that without me spelling it out for you.” Coffee in hand, he moved around the counter and headed toward his office.
She followed. “But I’ll be working with you.”
“Damn it all, Gina, let it go already.” He whirled around so fast coffee sloshed over the edge of his mug onto his hand. He flicked his gaze down as it dripped onto the hardwood floor, then turned his glower on her. “It’s my business, not yours, and I’ve made up my mind. The answer is no. End. Of. Discussion.”
He stepped back and slammed his office door in her face. She flinched at the force of the sound, then stared at the door in mute shock. Auto-pilot carried her over for a rag to wipe up his spill, then hurt and anger propelled her back out to her car.
Chapter 18
He was a first class prick. Yelling at her after everything that’d happened, and she only wanted to help. But in the time it took for Dean’s guilty conscience to prod him into going out to apologize, she’d left.
He didn’t blame her, and yet he wasn’t ready to change his mind. If she got hurt by helping him, he’d never forgive himself.
His call to her cell phone went to voicemail, and his I’m sorry text received no reply. And then, after his efforts, he was relieved enough that he ruled out going after her. Seeing her when his head was all screwed up was just way too dangerous on too many levels.
Instead, he got in an extra long workout to burn off some steam. After talking to his stepfather to fill him in about the visit from the police, he worked late into the night again. All the while, he wondered if she’d even show up in the morning. Part of him hoped not, the other part thought she damn well better if she wanted to get paid.
See? He was a frickin’ mess.
* * *
Monday morning, Dean rolled over in bed with a low groan as the little green 2 on his alarm clock became a 3. Then all the numbers registered on his sleep-fogged brain.
10:33.
He dropped his head face-first into his pillow. Sonofabitch.
Which made him instantly think of Gina’s disapproving, “You say that a lot.”
He thought it again on his way to the bathroom, then tossed in a few more curses for good measure. He hadn’t shaved in two days, but he wasn’t going anywhere, and he’d overslept his alarm by almost three hours, so who the hell cared? A swipe of his hand over the lengthening stubble made him think twice, but in the end, he showered, pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, and followed the very faint aroma of coffee down the stairs that led from the master suite to his office.
His step slowed at the sight of the two people sitting at the conference table. Gina wore her hair loose today, and reached to tuck an auburn strand behind her ear while leaning closer to the man sitting beside her. A tendril of jealousy snaked through him just as his vice president caught his descent from the corner of his eye.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”
Dean directed his simmering irritation at his friend. “Shut up.”
