An Irresistible Bachelor (An Unforgettable Lady #2)(24)

“Should I expect you to try and kiss me again?” she asked.

He opened his eyes and wished like hell he could give her the ironclad answer she was looking for. But at the moment, he wasn’t feeling particularly trustworthy.

He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m in a relationship. I’m engaged to someone—”

“You’re engaged?” she said incredulously. “Oh, my God.”

Her hands were back on her cheeks and she looked for a moment as if she might be sick because now she was eyeing the bathroom, not the stairs, with desperation.

“Listen, I’m not in the habit of cheating once I make a commitment.”

“Oh, really,” she tossed back. “So all those stories about your love life were made up?”

“I said once I commit.”

“Well, you certainly don’t do that very often, do you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. He couldn’t blame her for looking at him with disdain, and meeting her narrowed eyes wasn’t easy.

“Tell me, Jack, what exactly are you going to tell your fiancée about this?”

God, he had no idea.

“I’m not sure.”

“Probably nothing, right? Which is precisely how all those women ended up fighting over you like they did. No doubt they all thought you were their one and only.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”

“If I cut out a quarter of what I’ve read about you, there’d still be plenty to go on. Like the time one of your girlfriends chased a half-naked actress through the Waldorf Astoria lobby? And what had that lovely Cameron Diaz wannabe been wearing? A feather boa across her breasts and a pair of your boxer shorts, isn’t that right?” Callie put her hands on her hips. “That was a personal favorite of mine. Featured in People as well as the New York Post.”

He swore out loud, long and hard. “That was years ago. And she was wearing my pants if I remember correctly.”

At the time, he’d found the incident hilarious. After the great chase had begun, he’d sat back in his suite and waited until either his pants came back or the woman he’d been dating for six weeks did. Now, in retrospect, and especially in front of Callie, the theatrics seemed immature.

He took a deep breath. “I’m not like that anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” she muttered.

“Back then, I never would have apologized to you because I wouldn’t have felt badly. Now I do. I know I don’t have a lot of credibility when it comes to . . . things like this, but you’ve got to believe me. I had no intention of going down that road with you.”

She stared at him, measured him. “Have you ever cheated on . . . her before?”

“No. And I never planned to.” He walked over to the couch and sat down, putting his elbows on his knees. “I just got caught up in the moment and I made a mistake. I don’t know what else to say.”

Her gaze shifted to the window, and, after a moment, returned to him. “I’m not like those women you’re used to. I’m . . . just not.”

No, he thought, she certainly wasn’t. She wouldn’t put up with being used and he had no desire to treat her casually, either.

“I know that,” he replied. “I found it impossible to turn away from you. That’s my weakness. Not your fault.”

Her head lowered and she stared at the floor for a while.

“If I stay, it’s for the work. Not because I’m interested in playing games. I don’t want you to do that again.”

He frowned. “You mind if I ask why not?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“What I mean is, do you have someone in your life?” He didn’t really think she’d answer him, but he wanted to know.

“That’s totally irrelevant. Because even if I were alone, that doesn’t mean I’d be looking for you.”

He had to smile. “You’ve made that very clear.”

Gradually, the tension left her shoulders and her chin started to drop.

“So, can we be friends?” he asked, surprised to realize how much that mattered to him.

“No, we can’t be friends.” Her eyes drifted back to the window. “You and I, we are never going to be friends.”

He didn’t like that answer.

“Why not?”

“We have nothing in common.”

“Untrue. We both like art. Dogs. Grace Woodward Hall. I’m sure the list could go on and on.”

She shook her head. “I work for you. Just like the other hundred or thousand or however many people make up the Walker Fund. I’m simply one of many—”

“No, you aren’t.”

“—and I want to stay that way.”

“Have you always preferred anonymity or is this just a special case because you want to avoid me?”

“This time I’m choosing it.”

Jack’s hunter instincts sharpened. “And when was it not your choice?”

Quickly, she turned away. “This conversation is over.”

She walked across the room and picked up her toolbox, putting it on the table with a declarative sound.

He studied her for a moment, wondering what had caused her retreat. What exactly she was hiding.