Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [118]
“I’m aware of that.”
Lacing her fingers together, she kept her tone level. “Are you using me, Luke?”
He jerked up straight. “What?”
“Are you using me? Wooing me and sparking me in order to enlist my help in your search for Frank Comer?”
“No.”
“Then, why are you wooing me?”
He shifted in his chair. “I told you. I love you.”
“I remember. Yet a month has passed and you haven’t said it again, nor have you made your intentions at all clear.”
“I love you.” He repeated the declaration quickly and with no waver in his voice.
Her heart warmed, but she wondered if just once he’d say it without being prompted.
“I love you, too,” she replied, then waited for him to give her the rest of it. The intentions part. When he remained silent, she lowered her gaze to shield her hurt.
“I think about you all the time,” he said. “About us. I don’t know what to do. My job is—well, it’s not very conducive to married life.”
She smoothed her hand across the cover of the book in her lap. “So you don’t plan to marry?”
“I hadn’t. Until I met you. Now I’m not so sure.”
“I see.” Moistening her lips, she looked up. “And when do you think you’ll reach a decision?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his hands against his pant legs. “I guess I was trying to keep my focus on finding Comer. Then, once that was done, I figured I’d cross that bridge.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to be an afterthought. “Well, while you’re making your decision, I think it best if we not, um, spark, if you will.”
A crease formed between his brows. “What exactly does that mean?”
“No more kissing, touching, spooning. That sort of thing.”
“But, it’s the best part of my day. It’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself as much as I already am. I can’t just not touch you.”
“I don’t like it any better than you, but the more we spark, the more attached I become, and . . . well, I just need to know where this is going. And if it’s going nowhere, then I need to stop. Immediately.”
He scooted to the edge of his chair. “It’s not going nowhere. It’s going somewhere. I just don’t know where yet. I’ve got to sort it out, is all.”
She nodded. “You can sort it without sparking.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging more curls. “Can’t you give me a couple days’ warning? So I can adjust to the idea?”
“You mean, spark for two more days and then discontinue?”
“Exactly.”
She held back her smile. “I’m afraid not.”
“So just like that,” he said, snapping his fingers, “you expect me to just . . . stop?”
“Yes.”
“What about tonight? Are you going to kiss me good-bye tonight?”
“No.”
“Not even one last time?”
“No.”
He jumped to his feet. “What are we supposed to do, then? Shake hands?”
“I’m not telling you to quit coming over or quit spending the evenings with me. I’m just saying we need to pull back a little on the . . . other until you decide how you feel.”
“Pull back? Pull back? You’re not pulling back, you’re chopping me off at my knees.”
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to stop kissing any more than he did, but she knew on some deeper level she needed to protect herself. The hurt would be devastating enough. No need to compound it further.
And if he decided to marry her . . . well, then they’d have a lifetime to make up for the kisses they’d missed.
He paced in front of her. “Listen, I’m sorry I asked you to eavesdrop on those calls. You don’t have to do that. I take it back.”
“One has nothing to do with the other.”
He stopped. “It does. You think I’m using you. I’m not, but I can see how you’d think that. So forget I asked.”
“Give me the names and I’ll listen in. I want the Comer Gang caught just as much as you do.”
His chest rose and fell. A tic at the back of his jaw began to beat. “No. It was a bad idea.”
Putting the book aside, she rose. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes before it transformed to anger. “I won’t be changing my mind. And