Shane tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. So he wouldn’t reach for her again? “You’re not going to dinner.”
Well, no shit. She cleared her throat. “I’ve built a good life here, Shane.” No way was she letting him tear it down. Not again. Never again.
Maybe if she repeated the mantra enough, she’d believe the words.
Regret flashed across his face. “Do you love him?”
She was just getting to know Tom. Recently divorced, he harbored as many wounds as she did and had shown her kindness in the two months they’d known each other. But love? She’d given all she had to Shane. Who was anything but kind. “That’s none of your business.”
Shane tilted his head. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.”
A smile flirted with the corners of his lips. “Five more minutes and I would’ve been inside you. Hard and fast.”
Desire slammed below her abdomen even as she lifted her head in challenge. Hard and fast. One of the many ways Shane enjoyed the bedroom. As well as slow and soft. Crazy and fun. Yet always in perfect control.
His smile spread, soft and deadly. “And you would’ve been screaming my name, begging for more. We both know it.”
Was he remembering? Or just so sure of himself? She lifted a shoulder. “The sex was always okay between us, Shane.” The lie nearly made her choke. The sex had been incredible.
He laughed. A deep male chuckle. One she hadn’t heard in far too long. “Want me to prove it was better than okay, angel?”
Yes.
She sure did. Her breasts ached. Her sex had swollen. Intrigue at this new side of him sent fire through her veins. Hope flared alive, and she quashed it instantly. The man would never truly change, never truly let her in. “Hell, no.” Jerky movements had her at the table, where she yanked her cell phone out of her purse and sent a quick text message to Tom. She was too tired for dinner and would call him tomorrow.
Tossing her phone onto the counter, she flung open the refrigerator door and grabbed leftover lasagna. Routine would settle her. Whenever life became too much, she buckled down and got organized. Oddly enough, Shane had taught her that coping mechanism. Taking control of something as silly as color coordinating her closet had given her peace and a new outlook on life more than once. It looked like it was time to pick a new project again.
Cooking was another way she’d learned to soothe herself. The blue glass dish filled her hands. She’d made the lasagna the night before and more than half a pan remained. Shane’s favorite. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
A chair scraped behind her, and she turned as Shane dropped into it. Even sitting, his bulk overwhelmed the small space. Deep circles lay under his eyes as dark as the bruises covering his skin. “Are you going to feed me now?”
“Yes. Then you can sign the papers and get out.” She shoved away sympathy and put the dish in the microwave to set the time, fighting the pleasure of cooking for him again. While married, she’d felt married when cooking. Like they were a real family. Warm, healthy food was the only way he’d allowed her to care for him. And she’d loved doing it.
Even now, she’d spend hours at the farmer’s market choosing just the right ingredients. The freshest spinach, the home-grown tomatoes. Just last week, she’d spent an hour finding the right oregano plant to grow on the windowsill. In the kitchen, while cooking, for brief moments she allowed herself to pretend they were still together. That he relied on her. That he trusted and needed her.
But he never really had needed her. Until now.
How could she force him out? He had no clue who he was. Unless he was playing her. She grabbed plates and soda as the pasta cooked, taking the dish out and filling two plates before sitting. Beer wasn’t her thing, and the kind he liked, Guinness, was too strong for her. So she didn’t have any to offer. “You like lasagna. At least you used to.”
Shane nodded, taking a big bite and swallowing. “I still do.” Pleasure quirked his lip up as he ate.
Warmth filled her in response.
Finally, after clearing his plate, he rubbed his eyes. “Help me fill in the gaps. How did we meet?”
Memories crashed through her with a familiar pang. “We met in a coffee shop.” About a million years ago. “Some guy was messing with me, wouldn’t leave me alone, and you made him.” The guy had thought he was so cool with dark aviator glasses, pretending to be a soldier. He’d been Shane’s size but had backed down instantly. “We got married three weeks later.” A whirlwind. Fast, explosive, and so damn sexy. Completely opposite of how she planned her life. What had she been thinking?
“I see.” Shane’s eyes warmed. “How long were we married until we, ah…”
“Two months.” She sighed as hurt slammed into her abdomen. “Then you just left.”
“Without a word?” His gaze narrowed.
She shrugged. “Why are you in Washington?”