His brow shot up, the muscle clenching tight. ‘After what we did last night? What kind of jerk do you think I am?’
She flinched at the show of temper, but worse was the shadow in his eyes. Had she hurt his feelings somehow? She hadn’t intended to, hadn’t even thought she could. But the truth was, she hadn’t even considered his feelings.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think…’ She stared at her toes.
‘Damn it, Iona.’ The words came out on a soft sigh, the anger gone. ‘Just because one guy’s a deadbeat,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t mean we all are.’
She nodded, feeling about two inches tall.
He cradled her cheek in one rough palm and her thoughts scattered.
‘Where were you planning to run to?’ he murmured as his hand tugged through her hair and brushed the curls behind her ear.
She shrugged, trying to gather the will to pull away from his touch—and that piercing blue gaze. ‘I figured Monterey? I need to find a cheap place to live and a job.’
‘Accommodation in Monterey’s not cheap. And why would you go looking for a new place to stay, when I told you that you can stay here for free?’
‘But that was before…’ The blush crept up her neck as his hand trailed down and settled on her collarbone.
‘Before what?’
She pushed out a breath. The yearning to stay and take him up on his offer was so intense it was almost painful. But with the intense yearning came the kick of panic. She shouldn’t want this, and certainly not this much. They weren’t a couple, they weren’t even an item, they were a one-night fling and wanting it to be more than that was dangerous—because it implied an intimacy that went way beyond sex. ‘Before last night.’
His hand dropped to his side. ‘You figure because we slept together, you can’t stay here? Why not? One thing hasn’t got a damn thing to do with the other.’
‘It wouldn’t feel right.’ She felt her own temper kicking in. Why was he making this so hard? ‘It would feel like I was taking advantage of you.’
‘You…? You’re kidding, right?’ The incredulity was bad enough but the rough chuckle that followed had her glaring at him.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You are, Iona. How would staying here be taking advantage of me? This place isn’t even mine—it belongs to a friend of mine.’
‘Then I’d be taking advantage of your friend, wouldn’t I?’ It all seemed perfectly obvious to her. Why was he being so obtuse?
‘Settle down.’ He grasped her wrist, drew her back towards him. ‘The guy owns half of central California, so you staying here rent-free for a few weeks isn’t going to bankrupt him.’ He rested his hands on her hips, the confident, sexy smile firmly back in place—and having a predictable effect on her hormones. ‘And you didn’t sleep with him, you slept with me, so it’s kind of beside the point.’
She pulled out of his arms. ‘I fail to see why you—’
‘Iona, I want you to stay here,’ he interrupted, the determination in his voice neatly cutting off her tirade.
‘Why?’ she asked, wrapping her arms round her waist as her belly churned with a confusing mix of need and panic. They were strangers, despite what they’d shared last night—couldn’t he see that?
‘Because it’s important to me.’
‘Why?’
Her arms tightened, the churning getting worse. How could she be terrified that he was going to say she mattered to him—and equally terrified that she might not?
Zane saw the puzzled arousal and confusion in her caramel eyes and felt the answering pulse of heat, but steeled himself against the urge to scoop her up, carry her down the shack’s corridor to her bedroom and show her just how important it was to have her nearby.
He wasn’t here for sex. Or not only for sex.
She was probably dealing now with the same misgivings he’d wrestled with all day. When he’d wanted to call, but convinced himself it would be better to let her make the next move. But after a long torturous morning of waiting for the phone to ring, he’d had enough of waiting. Although he still couldn’t quite believe she’d been about to skip out on him.
Seeing her backpack by her feet, and the guilty flush on her cheeks had been more than enough to have his temper straining, but it had taken a Herculean effort of will not to start yelling when he’d read the note she’d written on the back of her drawing:
Zane,