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“This is what I mean,” he said throatily. “You let your mobile phone battery die. You take no care of yourself. And I don’t like it.” He put his hands on her hips, wet through the fabric. “When you arrived, I felt very angry that you could have neglected your own well-being yet again.”
She shook her head. “But you’re overreacting. It’s a little rain. A short walk from the subway.”
“No. It is all unnecessary discomfort and risk. Jane, do you know what I’m worth?”
She straightened her spine. “I don’t care.”
His laugh was indulgent. “Fine. Let’s just say ‘a lot’.” He lowered his face and pressed a kiss against her damp forehead. “I want you to take cabs or use Martins. Not the subway. Forget it exists. I want you to be comfortable and safe. I need to know that I can give you that.”
Her heart turned over. But it wasn’t real. It was an illusion. For the brief time they were together, he was being attentive and sweet. But what about when it ended? Inevitably, that time would come, and she’d be right back where she was now: fending for herself.
“Carter, I take care of myself. But I’m not like you.” She shrugged out of his hands and sat down so that she could once more slip her shoes from her feet. “I grew up in the city. I know it like the back of my hand. I can pick a dodgy character a mile off. I’m fine.”
He sighed as he eased himself to the ground beside her. Her short, sle
nder legs were stretched out in front of them. He put a hand on her knee, looking at the way his tanned fingers perfectly matched her skin. “Then oblige me. Just humour me. Let me do this for you.”
Again, her heart felt squeezed and she felt forced to attain an air of pragmatism. “For how long, Carter?”
“Huh?”
“You give me these things, and then one day, you wake up sick of me, and poof! I’m like Cinderella at midnight.”
His expression was difficult to comprehend. So she continued. “I know that this is temporary. That’s the best part of our deal. We both went into this knowing what we were getting out of it. I don’t want to get used to luxuries that I can’t afford.”
Her logic, though impeccable, insulted him. “Then afford them.”
It was so ridiculous, that she laughed. “Carter, you and I are just different.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I appreciate that.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “So what made you steam off?”
“I…” She bit down on her lip. “I don’t usually care that I’m not bright. Most people I know don’t care either.”
He felt anger in his chest. “You mean the men you meet through your agency?”
“Yeah. They’re not looking for smart. They’re looking for someone attractive to hang on their arms for a night. I’m good at that.” He opened his mouth to say something and she lifted a finger to press against his lips. “I am good at that. I know I’m great, actually. That’s what I have to offer a guy. My body and my looks. And that’s enough for me. If it isn’t enough for you, then we shouldn’t continue this arrangement.”
He was silent; contemplative.
“I’m happy, Carter. But I won’t be happy if you have these expectations of me that I can’t match up to.”
“Where the hell are you getting any of this from?”
‘The lobotomy comment. That first night I was here, you seemed almost offended by the idea that I had ‘chosen’ not to go to college. And various other things,” she muttered quietly, shivering again.
His eyes were unusually earnest. When he spoke, he was almost contrite. Except someone like Carter Mann-Hughes didn’t do contrition. Not really. “I was angry tonight. I spoke without thinking. It was not a reflection of how I feel about you. But please, Jane, can we continue this conversation after you’ve showered? You are shivering like a puppy in the ice.”
She knew why she was trembling and it had very little do with her drenched body. Shock and sadness mingled with desire, and Jane couldn’t have said which emotion was stronger inside of her. But she knew she felt more alive than she had in years, and that alone was something she was glad for.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jane hummed the theme song from Indiana Jones to herself, as she moved through his apartment. Being there without him was somehow illicit. Exciting, and intriguing. She placed her groceries on the kitchen counter and then stood on the spot, her hands on her hips. Without him, it felt larger, somehow. Colder. Scarier.
What she needed was noise.
She picked up the remote control she’d seen him use several times, and stared at it in consternation. She didn’t do technology, and this thing looked like it could facilitate a moon landing. She put it back down again and slipped her iPhone out of her back pocket instead. She loaded a playlist and then placed the phone into a clean coffee mug. The music amplified pleasingly, almost as though it were coming from a sound system.
“That will do,” she said with a small smile of self-satisfaction.
