No One to Trust - Iris Johansen [36]
“Asshole.” She was still shaking and felt as weak as a kitten. They both knew she was in no shape to hurt a cockroach.
“You keep calling me that.” He pushed her down in a chair at the table and turned on the light. “It’s not very polite. If you keep on doing it, I’m not going to pick you up from the floor when you shake yourself off that chair. Stay here. I’ll get a throw from the sofa.”
She should get up and leave. In a minute. As soon as she was stronger.
He was back, tucking a sage chenille throw around her. “Better?” He turned away. “You don’t have to admit it. After all, I interfered with your hair-shirt detail. I’ll get you a cup of coffee. It’s already made.”
The throw did feel warm and soft, and her coldness was beginning to subside. “It … feels good.”
“I thought so.”
She watched him pour steaming coffee into two cups. “Why was the coffee already made?”
“I was in the living room when you came downstairs. You didn’t look so good. I thought you might need it.” He brought the cups to the table. “I didn’t realize you’d decide to set up camp in there.”
“You should have left me alone.”
“You were in pain. I have a problem with that.” He sat down across from her. “You’re still in pain.”
“I’m not in pain. I won’t let him hurt me again.”
“Okay. Okay. Drink your coffee.”
She knew she couldn’t hold the cup steady. “In a little while.”
“Whatever.” He looked down into his coffee. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what’s going on with you?”
“No.”
“That mat is bothering you. We could drag it outside and start a bonfire. I’ll supply the match.”
She shook her head.
“I could let Judd draw a bull’s-eye and use it as a target. You’d be doing him a favor. He’s probably out of practice.”
She stared at him in exasperation and then a hint of a smile touched her lips. “Asshole.”
“Okay, you’re better. Drink your coffee.”
He was right. Her hand was no longer shaking. She lifted the cup to her lips. The coffee was hot and strong and it tasted good going down. She set the cup down and leaned back in the chair. “Why were you sitting there in the dark?”
“You ran away. You were scared. But I knew you wouldn’t allow yourself to cower in your room.”
“And you were curious?”
“You might say that.”
But it wouldn’t be the truth. She knew he had waited because he wanted to help her. And he had helped her. He had broken the hold the trauma had on her with flippancy, making light of the agony she was going through. It had made her angry, and the anger had freed her.
Had he known what he was doing?
Probably. He was clever and perceptive and he knew how to manipulate people and situations. He had chosen to manipulate this one to try to help her.
He was studying her expression. “You’re not going to start bristling, are you?”
“No.”
“I heard sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
“Did you?”
“I promise not to blackmail you.”
“You couldn’t. It was important only to me.”
“Not to Dominic?”
“I never told him. It would have hurt him.”
“Then that could be why you reacted like that. Maybe if you let it out … It won’t hurt me. You wouldn’t care if it did.” He shrugged. “Only a suggestion.”
He could be right. She would try anything to avoid falling apart again when she went back into that gym. “You’d be bored.”
“But it might save me some late nights waiting for you to wander downstairs for a midnight tryst with that dumb mat. You’ll be going back, won’t you?”
Her hands clenched her cup. “I can’t let him win. I can’t let him make me afraid.”
“Chavez?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. “I didn’t think it would affect me like that. I thought I’d put it all behind me.”
“Did you have an affair with Chavez?”
“Affair?” Her lips twisted. “Chavez doesn’t know how to have a relationship with a woman. He chose his wife as a meek slave and childbearer. His mistress is the same, except I understand she’s very talented sexually.”
“And you?”
“He found me different. At first he was amused, and then he wasn’t amused at all.” She stopped. What the hell. Let it all out. She wasn’t ashamed. Why should she hide what had happened?