Even over the distance and in the dim light, she saw the sparks. “That’s what I was supposed to do.”
He ignored that. “Don’t need a trace anyway. It’s a 900 number, get ’em through the billing. Cleaner that way. No black-and-white rushing off to find an empty phone booth, receiver dangling. It’s not the movies.” He ended with a note of disdain. For her and her Columbo mentality, Max was sure.
She wondered how to placate, wondered further why she even needed to try. “Look, about the stuff I had to say to—”
“Don’t explain.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
This time he took the two steps forward, stopping an arm’s length away. She could now see his unreadable eyes. Fat lot of good it did her. “You were,” he said ever so softly.
Max dropped her hands to her side, her shirt sliding down across her breasts, leaving Witt with a view of pale skin but little else. “I wanted to—”
“You were going to say that you had to do it to find Bethany’s killer.”
“That’s right.”
“But you liked it a little too much, didn’t you?”
She jumped in a little too fast and a little too loud. “I was acting.”
“And such a fucking good job you did.”
Goodness, there it was again. Same mild tone, lips even, expression deadpan. Speaking that word.
“Is this because I used a Dodge Ram as a tool—”
He cut her off with a slash of his hand. “Were you thinking of me when you did it?”
“Like hell,” she shot back, not sure how to take what he’d asked, but needing to deny, deny, deny.
“You were.” For the first time she saw a spark of something in his eyes.
“Actually Cameron, not you, was the one who got me ... interested in Dodge trucks,” she answered back with bravado.
His nostrils flared. He looked down, then back up, his gaze raking her bare skin showing between the shirt lapels. “I’m here in the flesh, Max. He’s only with you in spirit.”
She’d lived with that truth for so long the words shouldn’t have hurt anymore. They did. She was willing to believe they hurt Witt, too.
His jaw worked around an apology, but those weren’t the words that came out of his mouth. “I’m a patient man, Max, but don’t push me too far.”
He paused a beat, eyes narrowing, the heat of his body touching her from a foot away. “Kiss me.”
Oh God. He switched on and off too fast. She couldn’t track his emotions. But Jesus God, she wanted to kiss him, really wanted to. Maybe she should. She looked from his lips, to his blue eyes almost black in the gloom, and back again. Maybe she could. “I can’t.”
A muscle twitched beneath his eye, then rested. “You mean you won’t.”
She rolled her lower lip between her teeth, let it pop back out, then opened her mouth to say—
“Screw it.” Witt grabbed her chin with his hand, his fingers along her jaw. “I’ll kiss you this time, but you damn well better kiss me back.”
Desire overrode his need to have her do it first. The knowledge was like a shot of power straight to her veins. She was mainlining now.
Kissing without using his tongue, just lips to lips, he tasted of coffee and donuts, sweet and rich. He smelled of musk aftershave, clean male sweat, and heady testosterone. Like summer rain on hot concrete. He took her face between his big hands, retreating to run his tongue over her bottom lip, then returned to kiss her again. She parted her lips, but he didn’t take possession the way she wanted him to. It was a promise that he’d go slow with her. It was a statement that one day soon the power would be his. It made her shiver right down to her bare feet. He pulled back, her face still firmly in his hands so that the only way to avoid his gaze was to close her eyes.
“What are we waiting for, Max?”
She wasn’t sure. Her hands had found their way to the muscles of his forearms. Don’t let go. Ever. A voice, Cameron’s, Bethany’s, her own? “What are you waiting for?” she asked softly, swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat.
“For you to make the choice. I want you, I care about you, and I’m asking for more than just sex. But you have to scale your own walls, Max. If I do it for you, the prize isn’t worth half as much. For either of us.”
“So you didn’t like kissing me?”
He gave a soft, throaty laugh, cupped the back of her head and, with a hand on her butt, pulled her flush against his erection. “What do you think?”
She licked her lips, watched him watch the movement, and thought of the last call, the Dodge Ram, her fantasies. “I think the sex part is what I do best. I’m not good at much else. I’m not good at sharing, I’m not good at letting a man take care of me, and I’m not good at caring.”
“Musta driven your husband crazy. How long’d he have to ask before you said yes?”