He’d believed they’d come to some unspoken agreement that morning at the warehouse. He wanted her. She wanted him. They were fucking fantastic together. His dick gave a little twitch of agreement. Now, she was obviously having second thoughts, or third, or…whatever. He was beginning to doubt he’d be acting out any fantasies tonight, unless it was on his own. He groaned. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted her. Needed her even. When had that happened?
He followed her slowly down the stairs. She headed back to the kitchen and started to clear up, and he leaned against the door watching her for a minute. He liked seeing her in his house. but he wanted her attention right now. They obviously needed to talk, if that was the only way to find out what was on her mind.
“Leave that,” he said. “My housekeeper will do it in the morning.”
She turned, a small frown on her face. “You have a housekeeper?”
“Yeah. She looks after the place and walks Grunt.”
“Of course she does.” She dried her hands and turned to him. “I might go to bed then.”
He’d shown her to the spare room when she’d arrived. But he was damned if he was going to let her disappear there now. “It’s only nine o’clock.”
“I’m tired.”
“Well, a glass of wine will help you sleep.” He crossed the room and grabbed a bottle of red from the rack. When he turned, she looked on the point of bolting. “We need to talk.”
Her brows drew together. “We do?”
He got the corkscrew from the drawer and opened the bottle. “You obviously have something on your mind.”
“I have?”
He lifted up the bottle. “Come and talk to me. Like normal people. You can tell me what’s bothering you, and I’ll give you my expert advice. And afterwards…”
“Afterwards?”
“We can talk some more. Unless you’d like to do something else.”
For a moment he thought she would say no, but she gave a quick nod. “Okay. There is something I want to say.”
That didn’t sound good, but at least she wasn’t going to bed and leaving him alone. He led the way into the lounge and saw her glance briefly at the chair where he’d fucked her that first time, before she sat herself primly on the edge of the sofa, knees together. She was in navy slacks and a white shirt tonight. One day, when she loosened up with him a little more, he was going to take her shopping. Get his wild girl back.
He poured two glasses of wine, handed her one, and sat down beside her, keeping a little space between them. Not because he wanted to, but he sensed she might walk out if he crowded her. They were quiet as she sipped her wine. When the first glass was gone, he leaned across and poured her another. He hadn’t taken a drink of his own yet. Finally, she relaxed back and heaved a huge sigh.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing really.”
“Come on. Spill it, Abby.”
“I spent the whole of last night’s shift pretending I didn’t notice everybody whispering about me. And I didn’t manage to sleep today. I’m just tired.”
“Why were they whispering?” Though he had a pretty good idea.
“You know why. That prick West told everyone about seeing you and me.”
“Ignore them.”
She turned to face him, head tilted as she studied him for a moment, clearly not particularly liking what she saw. Then she drank some more wine before speaking. “I know you don’t care what people think about you, but I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I’ve earned their respect.”
And being seen with him would hardly enhance that. And he wasn’t naive enough to think it didn’t matter. It could make her life difficult, and that pissed him off. He had an urge to go punch them all in the heads, but that would hardly help anyone. “They’ll soon forget, or find someone else to talk about.”
“Maybe.” She tugged on a loose strand of hair. “I’m applying for a place in the detective bureau, and someone suggested that my relationship with you might hinder my chances.”
“And what did you say?”
“That we didn’t have a relationship. That you were Jenny’s father and that was it.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “So fucking up against a wall in the early hours of the morning doesn’t constitute a relationship.”
She bit her lip. “I’ve upset you again, and I really didn’t mean to do that.”
“No, it just seems to happen all on its own.”
“This isn’t about you, it’s about me. You’re…so comfortable with what you are and I’ve always struggled to fit in. But I’d succeeded, finally, and now…”
“And now screwing around with me is making you look bad. You know, image isn’t everything.”
“I do know. It’s just I’ve wanted this for so long. Anyway, it’s not your problem, and I’ll work it out.”
She didn’t seem convinced, was still worrying away at her lower lip with sharp white teeth, and he wanted to lean over and soothe her with strokes of his tongue, kiss her until she forgot about all those assholes she worked with. Until she forgot everything but him. He dragged his thoughts away from that road, not wanting to frighten her off. At least now she was talking to him, even if he didn’t particularly like what she had to say. And he was guessing there was more. That small frown still marred her forehead.