Summer Nights (Fool's Gold #8)(42)

The words were just as harsh the second time around, but she told herself not to react.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “Not exactly.”

She continued to wait. If he wanted to find his way out of this mess, he was going to have to do it alone.

He ran his hand through his hair then looked at her. “I’ve been obsessed with you from the first second I saw you dancing on that damn bar.”

Her chin came up. “You saw that?”

“Oh, yeah. I walked into Jo’s Bar one of my first nights back and saw you dancing. It was like taking a bolt of lightning to the gut. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was all I could do not to pull you over my shoulder and carry you off somewhere.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “They arrest guys for doing stuff like that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I got out of there as fast as I could, but you were in my head. So I asked my mom to find me a nice girl. Someone…boring and not very exciting.”

His reaction to seeing her dance on the bar had gone a long way to making her feel better. But now all those good feelings fizzled. “You mean someone like a librarian?”

He nodded sheepishly. “She mentioned you and you seemed safe, but then you showed up and I was lost.” He leaned forward. “I’ve told you about Rachel and that you remind me a little of her. But it isn’t you, it’s me. That feeling that I have to have you. It was bad with her, but it’s worse with you. Hell, even my horse has a crush on you.”

He sounded desperate, but she wasn’t going to trust him again easily.

“I’ve wanted you from the first second I saw you,” he told her. “Night before last, when I came over, and you let me come in, I needed you more than I needed air. Afterward I thought I would be free of you. That’s what I meant. That we could go back to being friends.”

“Oh, sure. Because I want to be friends with someone who assumes sleeping with me once is a lifetime cure.”

He fell back in the chair. “I’m saying this all wrong again, aren’t I?”

“Pretty much.” But she was beginning to understand his twisted male logic. Unfortunately it confirmed everything she’d been afraid of. She wanted love with all its complications and Shane wanted safe. Not a good combination.

“You assumed that being with me couldn’t possibly be as good as it was in your mind,” she continued. “Because you’re fantasizing about something that doesn’t exist. Like being with a movie star.”

He nodded slowly. “Maybe,” he admitted, sounding both cautious and wary.

“So when we were done, you felt you’d lived the fantasy and now you could return to your regular life.”

“Something like that.”

“So walking out right after had nothing to do with me at all.”

He shifted in his chair.

She smiled. “I mean you weren’t thinking about me. It wasn’t personal. You weren’t leaving me, you were dashing toward potential freedom.”

“Yes. I thought I was over you.”

“But you’re not?”

The question popped out without her considering what she’d just put on the table. And once out, the words hung there in the small room.

Shane straightened. “I’m not. I want to be, Annabelle. I won’t lie. But maybe I should simply accept reality. You’re someone who will always have the ability to get my attention when you walk in a room. That doesn’t excuse what I said or how I acted and I’m sorry.”

For the first time in a long time, a man had left her speechless and not in a bad way. He was admitting that there was chemistry and he couldn’t control the fact that he wanted her. It was kind of a nice thing to hear. On the downside, it put her firmly back in the category of his ex-wife. She would forever be the kind of woman he wouldn’t or couldn’t trust.

Obviously an intelligent woman would choose this moment to end things.

“I accept your apology,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry you’re so obsessed with me.”

He grinned. “No, you’re not. But I’ll deal with it. I like your idea of being friends. Can we go back to that or is there too much damage?”

She would rather stay lovers. Being with him had been amazing. Two days later, she was still enjoying aftershocks. But they wanted different things. Different endings after an amazing night together. Friends might not be sexy, but it prevented her from once again wasting herself on someone who didn’t understand who she really was or want what she did.

“We can be friends,” she told him. “Did you mean what you said before? About looking for someone quiet?”

“Sure. Boring sounds good. I don’t like the drama, but I seem stuck with it.”

“I’m not dramatic.”

“You were dancing on a bar.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” she said primly. “I was demonstrating the dance of the happy virgin.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you were. Face it, Annabelle. You’re one of those women destined to drive men wild. Accept your destiny.”

His words made her feel like some kind of sexual goddess, which was impressive considering she’d grown up believing no one would ever care about her. Not that sex was caring, but at least it was sort of in the same family. Or it could be.