Read Online A negotiated surrender by Jayne Castle - Free Book Online Page B

morning," she informed him regally, turning to shut the door in his face. It wouldn't close. Probably because of the large foot he had thrust over the threshold, she decided with an inner groan.
    "Calla, please, honey," he said with soft intent, his eyes meeting hers through the small opening of the door. "Just listen to me for a few minutes, will you? I'm sorry about last night…"
    That startled her but she made an effort not to show it. "Sorry?" she blazed tightly. "Sorry you didn't get what you wanted?"
    He drew a long breath, clearly trying to stay reasonable. "Will you please hear me out?"
    "I can't right now. I've got to take a shower."
    "I'll wait."
    "Not in my house, you won't!"
    "You're in a charming frame of mind, aren't you? Are you always like this when you come from your ballet class?"
    "Aha! I detect a lessening of your peaceful intentions," she pounced sweetly. "Losing our temper already, are we?"
    "No, damn it! I'm not going to lose my temper!"
    "Don't look now, but I think you already have."
    He visibly restrained his next comment and gently but forcefully began to push against the door she was attempting to shut in his face. "We have to talk, Calla. Go ahead and take your shower. I'll wait for you in the living room."
    He cocked a brow questioningly. "Unless you're going to resort to screaming for assistance from the neighbors?"
    "If I did would you retreat?"
    "No."
    She believed him. But he didn't really look all that menacing this morning, she decided. Merely determined. Could it be he truly was sorry for the scene the previous evening? She eyed him skeptically and let the door swing open.
    "I'll be out in a few minutes," she told him quellingly, disappearing down the hall in the direction of her bedroom.
    She didn't deliberately rush the shower, but somehow Calla, who loved to linger in the hot water, found herself toweling briskly after only a few minutes. She redid her hair into the habitual sleek knot, pulled on jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt, and slipped back into her sandals. The physical exhaustion was gone, replaced by the marvelously invigorated sensation a session of dance always left. She was ready to take on the world again.
    "How did you know I'd be returning this morning?" she asked coolly as she reentered the living room and found him leafing through a large coffee-table book on ballet. Once again he removed his glasses and stored them.
    "Your neighbor said you always had a dance class on Saturday mornings," he said without any expression, watching as she walked past him into the kitchen and started to make a cup of tea for herself.
    Something in the very lack of intonation alerted Calla. She stooped slightly to peer at him through the opening of the breakfast bar.
    "You asked my neighbor where I was?" she questioned forbiddingly.

    "I, uh, couldn't imagine where you could have disappeared to so early on a Saturday morning," he admitted placatingly, his eyes curiously enigmatic.
    Calla straightened at the whistle of the tea kettle and turned back to her small preparations. "Where did you think I was?"
    There was silence from the other room.
    "Slade?" she pressed in open annoyance. She picked up her cup and saucer and walked back to the living room.
    "Don't look at me like that," he pleaded wryly. "I'll admit I was a little upset at the various possibilities, but I swear I didn't make any sort of scene with your neighbor…"
    "I should hope not!" Calla grated feelingly. She saw his amber gaze flick narrowingly at the bouquet of flowers, which still stood on the little table, and knew exactly what had worried him.
    "If I had spent the night somewhere else after you left," she told him cuttingly, "it wouldn't be any of your business."
    "How can you say that when I've told you we're going to be married?" he protested softly.
    Calla wasn't at all certain she liked this new, reproachful Slade. She didn't trust his seeming determination to avoid an out-and-out slinging match.
    "I can say it