“No.” She shook her head. “Some things just aren’t that memorable.” She held out her hand and he placed the darts in her palm.
Instead of moving to stand by the guys, he remained right next to her and said, “I could remind you.”
“No, thanks.” She shot a triple eight and aimed for a triple twenty. “Once was enough for me.”
“If that’s true,” he said, “why’d we do it three times?”
“What’s the matter?” She looked across her shoulder at him. “Is your ego in need of stroking tonight?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
He’d decided to talk to her and she was supposed to fall at his feet. He probably thought she’d fall there and kiss his tattoo again. Fat chance. “Not interested. Find someone else.”
“I don’t want anyone else.” His words felt like a warm caress when he added, “I want you, Jane.”
Her anger fled and all that was left was her deep hurt. It churned in her stomach and twisted her heart. Before she risked bursting into tears like a girl, she shoved the darts at him. “Too bad,” she said, turned on her heels, and left the bar. She made it to her room on the twenty-first floor before her vision blurred. She would not cry over Luc Martineau, she told herself as she blotted her eyes with a tissue.
She was in her hotel room ten minutes before he pounded on her door. Afraid that the commotion would alert the security staff, she let him in.
“What do you want, Luc?” She folded her arms across her chest and held her ground.
He moved into the room and forced her back a few steps. “You,” he answered as the door shut behind him.
“Not interested.” He moved so close that her forearms touched his chest. He was purposely invading her space, and she walked across the room from him, away from the scent of his cologne. “You told me you didn’t think of me as a groupie, but that is exactly how you’ve made me feel.”
“I’m sorry about that.” His brows lowered and he looked down at the floor between his feet. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like a groupie.”
“Too late. You can’t take me to bed, then never give me another thought, as if I’m nothing.”
“I’ve never thought you were nothing.” He glanced back up at her, his blue gaze direct when he said, “I’ve thought about you, Jane.”
“When? When you were with other women?”
“I haven’t been with anyone but you.”
She was relieved but still mad as hell. “Were you thinking of me when you were busy ignoring me?”
“Yes.”
“And avoiding me?”
“Yes. All those times and all the times in between.”
“Right.”
“I think about you, Jane.” He walked toward her until mere inches separated them. “A lot.”
She’d believed him when he’d told her the same thing a few weeks ago. Not this time. “I’ve heard it from you before, and it’s not true,” she said, but there was a traitorous piece of her heart that wanted to believe him-bad. She took a step back and her calves hit the edge of the bed.
“Oh, it’s true. Awake or asleep, I can’t get you out of my head.” He grasped her shoulders and pushed her down on the bed. “You’re a complication I don’t need.” He followed, placed his hands on each side of her head, and planted his knee between her thighs. “But you’re a complication I want. One I’m going to have.”
She put her hands on his chest to stop him. Through the cotton of his shirt, he threw off heat like a furnace and warmed her palms. “I don’t think you know what you want.”
“Yes. I do. I want you, and being with you feels a hell of a lot better than being without you. I’m not going to fight it anymore.” He kissed her between her brows. “I’m not going to fight what I feel for you. It’s a losing battle, and I just end up pissed off.”
His words defused her anger somewhat, but fear still weighed heavy in her heart. “What do you feel?” she asked, even though she wasn’t completely certain she wanted to know.
He brushed his lips across her forehead. “I feel like you’ve hit me between the eyes with the butt end of a stick.”