neck.
âIâ¦Is it?â she managed in a strange, husky voice.
He leaned down until his breath was whispering across her trembling mouth, until his dark eyes filled the room.
He drew back as she swayed helplessly toward him, chuckling like the devil he was. âDonât worry, little girl,â he saidsoftly, âI donât rob cradles.â Taking a long draw from his cigarette, he stood up with a taunting smile at the nervous wreck heâd left in the chair before him. âCome on, Dana, letâs get some coffee and cake. I barely touched my supper.â
âCâ¦coffee and cake?â she faltered.
âArenât you hungry, honey?â he asked with one raised eyebrow. âGod knows I am. Have coffee with me, at least.â
âAll right.â She tugged her calm mask back in place, unaware of the mischief in the dark eyes she couldnât see, and followed him to the kitchen. That he wanted her company was enough to kindle a glow in the pit of her stomach.
She made coffee while he sat quietly at the kitchen table and watched her.
âI never thanked you,â she murmured, pouring water into the automatic coffee maker.
âFor what?â
âGoing with me. Staying with me. Easing the hurt,â she replied, glancing at him past the silky curtain of her long hair.
âIâd have done that for my worst enemy, didnât you know?â he asked with a hint of smile. His eyes narrowed. âDonât credit me with too much compassion. I never make investments without a guaranteed return.â
âWhat did you get out of it, then, except a lot of expense?â she asked. âAnd Iâm going to pay you back, every penny,â she added firmly.
âYou can work it out,â he told her, not bothering to argue. He leaned back in the chair, his darkness, his broadness tantalizing in the silence and the privacy of the kitchen. Her eyes were drawn against her will to that spray of black hair peeking out of the unbuttoned white shirt, and she was remembering how it had felt under her hands that night she danced with him at the lakeâ¦.
âYouâre staring, Persephone,â he taunted.
Flushing, she drew her eyes back to the coffee maker. âI wish you wouldnât call me that.â
âWhy not? It fits.â
âYou wouldnât like it if I called you Pluto.â
âDamned straight, and I wouldnât advise you to try it. I like mine with cream,â he added as she poured coffee into the two big, thick mugs. She paused to lace his with cream before she set it in front of him.
âYou always pick on me,â she protested, dropping into the chair across from him, vulnerable in the soft blue dress with her hair spreading like yellow satin onto her shoulders, her eyes huge and brown and wistful. âWhy canât I hit back?â
âHoney, youâve got a foolproof method for getting at me, and you donât even know it.â
She stared at him blankly. âWhat?â
But he only shrugged. âForget it.â He sipped his coffee absently. âWhat were you doing upâwaiting for me?â
She blushed furiously. It had never occurred to her that he might put that interpretation on it. âIâ¦I just couldnât sleep,â she hedged. âAnd I needed to finish thatâ¦all right, I was thinking about Mamaand I needed something to do,â she admitted finally, wearily.
âIt passes, Dana,â he said quietly. His fingers absently stroked the coffee mug. âI remember when Janine diedâ¦â
âYourâ¦your wife?â she asked gently.
âMy wife.â He stared down into the shimmer of light that reflected in the deep mug. âIt was a merger more than a marriageâher family had cloth mills, mine manufactured clothing. But Iâd lived in the same house with her long enough to miss the scent of her perfume in a room, or the sound of her
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