“So he contacted you when your mom passed away? Did he know she was sick again?”
“He knew,” Josie bit out. “He never came to see her. Never called. Never spoke to her. After she passed away, he called wanting to see me. He said he was sorry about Mom but that he wanted us to be a family. I told him that family doesn’t do the kind of shit he pulled and that my family was dead. That was two years ago. He’s never tried to contact me again. I don’t even know where he lives. He moved a lot after he and Mom divorced. His job takes him away quite a bit.”
“Do you ever regret not seeing him?”
She looked startled by the question. “No. Not at all. I don’t think I could see him without flying into a rage. Especially right after Mom died. If he’d been there, I think I would have just gone off on him. I was furious and heartbroken. And I was pissed. Pissed that he’d been such a coward and that he hadn’t been there for my mom when she needed him most.”
“I get it. Believe me I do. I don’t see my family. Well, most of them. Recently my sister came to see me but until then I’ve had nothing to do with any of them.”
She cocked her head to the side, studying him. Their hands were still joined and he traced several patterns on her skin, from her knuckles to the top of her wrist and back. He liked touching her. Could touch her all night. And it wasn’t sexual. He simply enjoyed the satiny softness of her hands. Fingers that were stained with paint, a different color on each tip.
“What did your family do?” she asked softly.
“Long story. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Right now, though, I’m much more interested in hearing about you.”
She frowned. “That isn’t fair. I’ve told you about my family. I won’t say another word unless you reciprocate.”
He chuckled and his hand tightened around hers. Her eyes widened and she glanced down at their joined fingers. Yes, she felt it just as much as he did. But she was fighting it and he wasn’t.
“Very well then. I’ll give you a tidbit and then it’s your turn again.”
Her gaze narrowed. “That depends on how worthy I feel your information is. You must give a piece of equal value to the one I gave to you.”
“Now that’s impossible,” he murmured. He looked intently into her eyes, that drowning sensation washing over him. “No information I can give you will be as valuable as you sharing yourself with me.”
Her cheeks grew pink and she dropped her gaze. Her hand twitched beneath his, but he held it firmly so she wasn’t able to draw it away.
“Maybe you think so,” she said in a husky voice. “But perhaps I find information about you to be much more valuable. You see, you have me at a disadvantage. You’ve checked up on me, had me followed. I have no doubt that you know far more about me than I’m comfortable with. So it’s only fair that you even the odds by telling me all your deep, dark secrets.”
She was flirting with him. In a shy, adorable way, as if she were uncertain of how to do so. He’d never experienced such an intense surge of . . . excitement. There was lust, absolutely. He wanted her like he hadn’t ever wanted a woman before. But there was more. He was interested in her. What made her tick. He wanted inside her head every bit as much as he wanted inside her body. Most of all, he wanted her trust, even if nothing he’d done so far deserved such a gift.
Given time he’d prove himself to her. If she only gave him a chance.
“Deep, dark secrets, huh. I fear you’re in for disappointment. I’m frightfully boring. I’m married to my business, and I despise my family almost as much as they despise me. My real family are my business partners and their women.”
“Except that your sister came to see you recently. Have you reconciled?”