The Yearning by Tina Donahue Page B

throat. “Can you hand me a beer?”
    He passed a Corona to her, watching, waiting for her history.
    She gulped a mouthful of the brew. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover her burp. “Excuse me.”
    “Not a problem. Want me to take that?” He reached for the bottle.
    “I’ll keep it.” She put the chilled glass on her thigh intentionally, wanting it to make her shiver. If her voice shook, she hoped he’d think it was from this and not fear. “I thought I did tell you about me. But if you want a recap: I live here. I own a dress design business with the bulk of it being bridal gowns. They pay the best what with the lace and beadwork. My parents have been gone for too long, because of a stupid, senseless accident. And I’m alone. What else is there to tell?”
    He dropped to the mattress, his head propped up with his hand, his steady gaze assessing her. “When you first approached me at the bar, your behavior didn’t quite match your sexy outfit.”
    Her heart lurched. Had he seen her real personality at the Blue Bliss? Would he notice her worry now? If he did and persisted in his questioning, she’d have to start an argument and force him to leave. What other choice would she have? She couldn’t tell him the truth. With no other options, she pretended not to understand his comment. “Even after buying you a drink you didn’t think I was interested?”
    “I knew you were. But you also seemed very afraid.”
    Her nails dug into the sheets. The music changed, the new selection a tune by Steely Dan. Her mind tried to formulate a response he’d accept. Thankfully, it came. She tried to sound embarrassed. “Despite sending you a beer, I was afraid you’d tell me to get lost. As awesome as you admittedly are, you must have been rejected at least once in your life, right?”
    “Well, yeah, but…”
    “I’m not saying it was your fault. Whoever turned you down had to have had poor eyesight. Maybe she was a lesbian.”
    He smiled briefly. “It wasn’t worry over rejection I saw. It looked more like fear of what you were doing and where it might lead.”
    “I told you in the alley, I had a bad experience with a guy.”
    “Your boyfriend, you said. Did you pick him up at a club?”
    She lied. “A mutual friend introduced us. So much for playing it safe.”
    He adjusted his weight, finding a more comfortable position. “I can understand the experience souring you on your friend’s choice in men, but that doesn’t mean hanging out at clubs is the way to go.”
    She looked past him, praying he’d drop the subject. “Other women do it all the time. So do guys.”
    “Yeah, I know.” He sighed loudly. “But you don’t seem to be the kind of woman to bring strangers home with you. Is tonight your first time?”
    Unnerved by how close he’d come to the truth, she found it impossible to answer or to get angry with him. If he left now, she’d be in even worse condition. Already the hellish yearning had returned. “What if I said it wasn’t?”
    “I’d guess you were lying. Tonight should be your last in the club scene. Hooking up with guys you don’t know is dangerous.”
    Her head swung to him. “Have you hurt me?”
    His brows lifted in surprise. “Of course not. Nor would I.”
    “I knew that all along.”
    His laugh sounded tired and perplexed. “Although I’m flattered, how could you come to that conclusion without really knowing me?”
    She transferred the bottle from her thigh to the mattress and for the first time tonight decided to be honest. “In the club, when I asked if you’d been shot I saw the pain on your face.” Her gaze dropped to his scar. “Something terrible happened—and I know, it’s none of my business. But the look in your eyes told me you’re a good man.”
    His frown and features went slack, saying he hadn’t a clue how to respond.
    She cradled his face, running her thumb over his high cheekbone, wishing the calm had lasted, only it had not. “I’m still very