talking to him. Evidently, whoever he was, the man was trying to help. Someone bent on harm sure doesn’t help a guy get through the death of a loved one as the man had with Elise. But why would he want to help John? “Apparently, Miss Hattie figured you’d run.”
Bess grimaced at him, clearly at ease again now that, in her mind, the mystery had been solved. Should he tell her it hadn’t been? No. She was stressed already. Her lip was twitching double-time. He’d solve it first and then tell her.
“I’m not running, John.” She grabbed the handle of her case, then slung the shoulder strap of the garment bag over her shoulder. “I’m leaving. There’s a difference.”
“Not where we’re concerned.” Silk barked near his ankle, wanting attention. He picked up the dog and scratched her ears.
Bess held out her hands for Silk. When John passed her, Bess flashed him a pleading look. “I don’t want your money.”
“You have no choice, darling.” Damn if she was going to toss yet another guilt trip on him. She’d be self-sufficient or married to him, and that was where the buck stopped.
“I’d rather spend a month in jail.”
The barb hit home. Hard. “Fine. And when you get out and this still isn’t settled, then you can spend another month in jail. I wonder if Sal Ragusa will do remote tapings of your program. Be a shame to lose your job, too. Oh, but I guess WLUV wouldn’t have much use for a jailbird counselor, would it?”
“Sometimes you are a total and complete ass as well as a jerk, John Mystic. Sometimes you’re a vicious jerk. And sometimes—”
“I’m adorable. I know.” He smiled, doing his best to melt the meanness right out of her. “But try to control yourself, hmmm?”
“Not a problem.”
“Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you’re unaffected at seeing me again? Hell, Bess, you might pull that stunt on your sorry Spaniard, but I know you. It’s always been there between us, and it probably always will be.” Better to acknowledge it and watch its power fizzle than to hold it in and let it gnaw at him.
“It —what? The only thing between us is a divorce.”
“The magic.”
She screwed up her mouth to say something—scathing, he felt sure—then changed her mind. That damned mask of indifference slipped solidly back into place.
“Stop calling Miguel that. Stop needling me. Just stop everything.” She raked her hands through her hair, squeezed her eyes shut, and hissed in air between her teeth. Quickly, she dropped her hands and sent him-a cool, droll look. “The truth is, for me, the magic is gone. I don’t want you, John. I just don’t. Okay?”
“Uh-huh.” He let his gaze drift down to her pulse throbbing at her throat, to her nubbed nipples straining against her thin blouse, then down to her fisted hands. The lady hadn’t come unglued, true, but she was a far cry from unaffected. Though he knew he risked one wicked backfire, he wanted more. He wanted unglued, snapped, and out of control. Just once. Just . . . once. “Right.”
“That is right.”
“Sorry, synapse misfire. I forgot you said you hated me.”
“Not you. Your actions.” She headed toward the door. “If you’re going to throw my words back into my face, at least get them right.”
He had gotten them right, but her surly expression proved she wouldn’t appreciate the reminder and, while he wanted her unglued, he didn’t want her unraveled. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t the heartless bastard Meriam Richards and half of New Orleans had accused him of being. “No problem. Though I don’t typically repeat lies. Or rumors.”
Bess’s jaw dropped open—no doubt to blister his ears—but, without uttering a sound, she snapped it shut, snatched Silk, then shrugged. “I guess that brings this conversation to a close.”
“I guess it does.” He let his gaze slide down her length. “You’ll look great in stripes, darling.”
“Shut up, John. Would you
Bess grimaced at him, clearly at ease again now that, in her mind, the mystery had been solved. Should he tell her it hadn’t been? No. She was stressed already. Her lip was twitching double-time. He’d solve it first and then tell her.
“I’m not running, John.” She grabbed the handle of her case, then slung the shoulder strap of the garment bag over her shoulder. “I’m leaving. There’s a difference.”
“Not where we’re concerned.” Silk barked near his ankle, wanting attention. He picked up the dog and scratched her ears.
Bess held out her hands for Silk. When John passed her, Bess flashed him a pleading look. “I don’t want your money.”
“You have no choice, darling.” Damn if she was going to toss yet another guilt trip on him. She’d be self-sufficient or married to him, and that was where the buck stopped.
“I’d rather spend a month in jail.”
The barb hit home. Hard. “Fine. And when you get out and this still isn’t settled, then you can spend another month in jail. I wonder if Sal Ragusa will do remote tapings of your program. Be a shame to lose your job, too. Oh, but I guess WLUV wouldn’t have much use for a jailbird counselor, would it?”
“Sometimes you are a total and complete ass as well as a jerk, John Mystic. Sometimes you’re a vicious jerk. And sometimes—”
“I’m adorable. I know.” He smiled, doing his best to melt the meanness right out of her. “But try to control yourself, hmmm?”
“Not a problem.”
“Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you’re unaffected at seeing me again? Hell, Bess, you might pull that stunt on your sorry Spaniard, but I know you. It’s always been there between us, and it probably always will be.” Better to acknowledge it and watch its power fizzle than to hold it in and let it gnaw at him.
“It —what? The only thing between us is a divorce.”
“The magic.”
She screwed up her mouth to say something—scathing, he felt sure—then changed her mind. That damned mask of indifference slipped solidly back into place.
“Stop calling Miguel that. Stop needling me. Just stop everything.” She raked her hands through her hair, squeezed her eyes shut, and hissed in air between her teeth. Quickly, she dropped her hands and sent him-a cool, droll look. “The truth is, for me, the magic is gone. I don’t want you, John. I just don’t. Okay?”
“Uh-huh.” He let his gaze drift down to her pulse throbbing at her throat, to her nubbed nipples straining against her thin blouse, then down to her fisted hands. The lady hadn’t come unglued, true, but she was a far cry from unaffected. Though he knew he risked one wicked backfire, he wanted more. He wanted unglued, snapped, and out of control. Just once. Just . . . once. “Right.”
“That is right.”
“Sorry, synapse misfire. I forgot you said you hated me.”
“Not you. Your actions.” She headed toward the door. “If you’re going to throw my words back into my face, at least get them right.”
He had gotten them right, but her surly expression proved she wouldn’t appreciate the reminder and, while he wanted her unglued, he didn’t want her unraveled. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t the heartless bastard Meriam Richards and half of New Orleans had accused him of being. “No problem. Though I don’t typically repeat lies. Or rumors.”
Bess’s jaw dropped open—no doubt to blister his ears—but, without uttering a sound, she snapped it shut, snatched Silk, then shrugged. “I guess that brings this conversation to a close.”
“I guess it does.” He let his gaze slide down her length. “You’ll look great in stripes, darling.”
“Shut up, John. Would you
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