Into the Fire - Anne Stuart [60]
He finally turned off the water and dressed. He shaved—he usually didn’t bother, but he didn’t like the idea of his evening stubble abrading Jamie’s face. Or her thighs, he thought with a grin. He didn’t meet his eyes in the mirror as he concentrated on shaving. He wasn’t a man to lie to himself, and he didn’t want to risk seeing something in his face that he didn’t want to see.
He dressed quickly, then peeked in the bedroom door before heading downstairs. She was asleep, lying facedown on his bed, her pale hair tangled around her face, his white sheets tangled around her hips. He closed the door silently and headed down to the garage.
He had no idea whether or not she’d try to run again. There was a good chance she would—she’d have a hard time looking him in the face after the last few hours they’d spent. But the snow was piling up, and her venerable Volvo didn’t have snow tires, only slightly balding all-season radials, which weren’t worth a damn in a Wisconsin winter. He headed out into the snowy night, turning the ignition of the old car and listened to it purr to life. He backed it up, then drove it into the garage, closing the door behind him. There was a patch of dark in the snow where the Volvo had sat parked, and he paused for a moment. Nothing should be leaking—not the oil or antifreeze or anything else—he’d gone over the engine with his usual obsessive attention to detail. At least, when it came to cars he was obsessive. He couldn’t give a damn about the rest of his life.
He parked the car in the middle of the garage and opened the hood. Everything seemed to be fine—no leaking hoses, every reservoir safely filled. He glanced at the back, but if whatever had darkened the snow had come from the Volvo, it was no longer draining.
He’d check the underside in the morning, just to make certain. But in the meantime he had the perfect excuse to keep her longer. Not that he needed an excuse. But she would. She couldn’t very well admit that she wanted to blow off her controlling mother, her job and her neatly ordered life for a few days, a few weeks, a few months of hot sex. Even if she did. He’d given her a taste, and she’d want more. But his instincts told him she’d still want to run.
At least the car would give her an excuse to stay. And he could always continue to make it an excuse easily enough. But he didn’t think he would. In the end, she was going to have to admit it. That for some reason, some twisted trick of fate, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. And it was going to take a hell of a long time to burn that wanting out.
Jamie forced herself to relax as she listened to his footsteps outside the bedroom door. Her head was turned away, and she heard the door open. She held her breath, wondering if he was going to come back in there, if he was going to touch her again. And how she was going to say no when saying no was the last thing she wanted.
She had her purse back, with all her money and identification and credit cards. He told her she had her car back, but even if she didn’t, she now had the wherewithal to rent a new one and get the hell out of there. He wouldn’t try to stop her. Her question was, did she really want to run?
The door closed, and she heard him move down the stairs, and she let out a deep sigh of relief that had nothing to do with disappointment.
There was no hot water in the shower, but she was past caring. It was one way to punish herself for her stupidity, and it should certainly wipe away any lingering, errant lust. That’s what it had been, pure and simple, right? Except she never would have thought herself capable of such a primal emotion.
It sure as hell wasn’t love.
She wrapped the towel around her and ran down the darkened hallway to her room, closing the door quietly behind her. If he wanted to keep her old dress she was more than welcome to it, as well as the ill-advised racy underwear. She just needed her clothes and shoes to get the hell out of there.
She dressed quickly, throwing the rest of her clothes in her suitcase and slamming it shut. Her