Cross My Heart by Abigail Strom Page A

with a flash of anger.
     “I’m not mad because you freaked out.”
    He felt confused. “Okay, then, enlighten me. What are you mad about?”
    She leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. “I’m mad because you took a couple of digs that really hurt my feelings. And you haven’t apologized for that.”
    He shifted uncomfortably. “What digs?”
    “Well, let’s see. How about, ‘I know you can take care of yourself, Jenna. You make sure everyone knows that.’” She took a breath. “And later, when I told you Claire’s hair color was temporary, you said, ‘That is your specialty, of course.’”
    Damn. “I don’t know why I said those things. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a stupid—”
    “Bullshit. You did mean something by it, and I’d like to know what.”
    He felt an unexpected flicker of anger. “Look, I told you I was sorry. Can’t you just let it go? Not every feeling has to be dragged to the surface.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “No, I can’t let it go. Unlike you, I don’t sweep my emotions under the rug.”
    “Okay, fine.” His voice sounded cool, for which he was grateful. “You want me to talk, I’ll talk. Maybe the whole lone wolf thing bothers me a little.”
    “I never said I was a lone wolf.”
    “Gypsy, then. You’re determined never to settle down, never to put down roots. You said so, remember?”
    She turned her back on him, taking her untouched cup of coffee to the sink and dumping it out.
     “Yes, I said so. I said so on your porch last night, and you seemed fine with it then. I didn’t realize you were judging me.”
    He set his own mug down on the kitchen table. “I’m not judging you. But I don’t think it would kill you to keep an open mind about...things. You won’t even consider the possibility of staying here. What’s so terrible about Iowa? Your family’s nearby, and—”
    She whipped around to face him. “Don’t you dare try to play the family card. Your own daughter lives in Florida, for God’s sake! Talk about a double standard—”
    He struggled to keep his tone detached. “I just think if you spend your whole life drifting from place to place you could miss out on some things. Things that might make you happy.”
    “What, like marriage and children? Not every woman wants a white picket fence, Michael. Did the feminist movement just pass you by, or something?”
    His usual control was deserting him, replaced by anger he couldn’t justify and desire he couldn’t tamp down. His hands clenched into fists, as if he could fight his emotions physically.
    “I didn’t say anything about marriage and children. But you said yourself you’re changing, and I know that scares you. I think you should make sure that leaving really is what you want, and that you’re not making decisions out of fear.”
    Twin patches of red appeared on her cheeks. “I see. And what, exactly, do you think I’m afraid of?”
    There were a dozen danger signs warning him off, but he waded in anyway. “Maybe you’re afraid of getting attached. You lost your sister, and you lost your fiancé and your best friend a few years later. Maybe you don’t want to be hurt like that again.”
    She stared at him. “Wow. I suppose I should thank you for the free psychoanalysis. Of course, it’s pretty damn ironic that you’re telling me not to make decisions out of fear. You won’t even ask Claire to come live with you.”
    His jaw tightened. “We’re not talking about me right now.”
    “Oh, of course. It’s okay to put my choices under the microscope, but I’m not allowed to talk about yours? You’ve got no right to judge me or my choices.”
    Her lips were parted, her eyes turbulent. Her body was taut with anger, her skin flushed with it, and all he could think was how beautiful she was.
    And how much he wanted her.
    He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted Jenna. Not having her was a sudden agony, a burning pain that ignited his heart and his