the only window in the bedroom. Then he moved toward the door where she was standing.
Embarrassed about the dirt on the windowsill, she said, “Sorry about the dust. I rarely use this room.”
He gave her a droll look. “I’m a guy. I don’t think I’ve ever dusted anything.”
She laughed and led him to the second bedroom. He was sweet to try to make her feel less embarrassed, but as particular as he was about his appearance, and as shiny clean as his car was, she didn’t believe for a second that his house was anything less than pristine.
The door was already open, so he stepped inside. His eyes widened as he looked around at all the exercise equipment. “A professional gym would be envious of what you have here.”
A picture of him shirtless and sweaty after a vigorous session of weight lifting crossed her mind. She absently toyed with the hem of her shirt. “I don’t get out much—have to work off the occasional Haagen-Dazs indulgence somehow.”
His gaze slid down her body in a slow, leisurely caress, as if he was evaluating the effects of her workout routine. When his eyes met hers again, the heat in his gaze nearly scorched her. She wanted to encourage him, wanted to throw back some kind of flirty comment to let him know the attraction was mutual.
She couldn’t.
She was too scared, but not of him. She was scared of herself. In the years since her attack she’d built a solitary, safe life. Until Logan, she wasn’t tempted to enjoy the companionship of a man again. Now that he’d awakened all those dormant feelings, she didn’t trust herself.
Could she act like a normal person with him? What if he tried to hold her, kiss her? Would she welcome his touch or would the image of her attacker loom in her mind and send her screaming from the room? Seeing him look at her like she was crazy would hurt even more than when people looked at her scar and flinched.
She couldn’t bear it.
Deciding it was time for him to leave, she pivoted on her heel and hurried back to the kitchen to usher him out.
He followed her, stopping behind her, close, but not touching. “Amanda, look at me.” His deep voice was patient, soothing. “Please.”
She blew out a frustrated breath and turned around, looking up into his eyes as she leaned back against the same countertop where he’d leaned earlier.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said.
She shook her head. “You didn’t scare me. You don’t scare me.” And it was true. She felt so safe with him she wanted to wrap herself in his arms and lock out the rest of the world. She barely knew him. He was powerfully built and no doubt could easily hurt her if he chose. She was alone with him, with no one else to help her if he did want to harm her. So why wasn’t she afraid of him? It didn’t make any sense.
“No?” His searching gaze held hers. “Then why did you run?”
She sighed and automatically started to pull her hair forward, then stopped self-consciously when she remembered what he’d said about her hiding behind her hair.
“Amanda—”
“I’m sorry. Really. I can’t . . . it’s just that I . . .” She blew out a frustrated breath.
He reached out his hand toward her but dropped it when she jerked backwards. She awkwardly folded her arms over her chest, her automatic reaction reminding her she was right. She couldn’t handle a relationship, no matter how tempting.
His eyes were sad as he looked at her. “Don’t apologize. My actions were inappropriate. I don’t know what got into me.” His eyes took on the far-away look he had earlier when he talked about his loved ones in New York. “I really don’t.”
He shrugged into his jacket, then pulled a small white card from his pocket and laid it on the kitchen table. “My business card. If you change your mind about speaking to the FBI, call me.” His gaze captured hers. “Even if you don’t change your mind, if you need someone to talk to, about anything, call me. No
Embarrassed about the dirt on the windowsill, she said, “Sorry about the dust. I rarely use this room.”
He gave her a droll look. “I’m a guy. I don’t think I’ve ever dusted anything.”
She laughed and led him to the second bedroom. He was sweet to try to make her feel less embarrassed, but as particular as he was about his appearance, and as shiny clean as his car was, she didn’t believe for a second that his house was anything less than pristine.
The door was already open, so he stepped inside. His eyes widened as he looked around at all the exercise equipment. “A professional gym would be envious of what you have here.”
A picture of him shirtless and sweaty after a vigorous session of weight lifting crossed her mind. She absently toyed with the hem of her shirt. “I don’t get out much—have to work off the occasional Haagen-Dazs indulgence somehow.”
His gaze slid down her body in a slow, leisurely caress, as if he was evaluating the effects of her workout routine. When his eyes met hers again, the heat in his gaze nearly scorched her. She wanted to encourage him, wanted to throw back some kind of flirty comment to let him know the attraction was mutual.
She couldn’t.
She was too scared, but not of him. She was scared of herself. In the years since her attack she’d built a solitary, safe life. Until Logan, she wasn’t tempted to enjoy the companionship of a man again. Now that he’d awakened all those dormant feelings, she didn’t trust herself.
Could she act like a normal person with him? What if he tried to hold her, kiss her? Would she welcome his touch or would the image of her attacker loom in her mind and send her screaming from the room? Seeing him look at her like she was crazy would hurt even more than when people looked at her scar and flinched.
She couldn’t bear it.
Deciding it was time for him to leave, she pivoted on her heel and hurried back to the kitchen to usher him out.
He followed her, stopping behind her, close, but not touching. “Amanda, look at me.” His deep voice was patient, soothing. “Please.”
She blew out a frustrated breath and turned around, looking up into his eyes as she leaned back against the same countertop where he’d leaned earlier.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said.
She shook her head. “You didn’t scare me. You don’t scare me.” And it was true. She felt so safe with him she wanted to wrap herself in his arms and lock out the rest of the world. She barely knew him. He was powerfully built and no doubt could easily hurt her if he chose. She was alone with him, with no one else to help her if he did want to harm her. So why wasn’t she afraid of him? It didn’t make any sense.
“No?” His searching gaze held hers. “Then why did you run?”
She sighed and automatically started to pull her hair forward, then stopped self-consciously when she remembered what he’d said about her hiding behind her hair.
“Amanda—”
“I’m sorry. Really. I can’t . . . it’s just that I . . .” She blew out a frustrated breath.
He reached out his hand toward her but dropped it when she jerked backwards. She awkwardly folded her arms over her chest, her automatic reaction reminding her she was right. She couldn’t handle a relationship, no matter how tempting.
His eyes were sad as he looked at her. “Don’t apologize. My actions were inappropriate. I don’t know what got into me.” His eyes took on the far-away look he had earlier when he talked about his loved ones in New York. “I really don’t.”
He shrugged into his jacket, then pulled a small white card from his pocket and laid it on the kitchen table. “My business card. If you change your mind about speaking to the FBI, call me.” His gaze captured hers. “Even if you don’t change your mind, if you need someone to talk to, about anything, call me. No
Similar Books
