Sensual Confessions - Brenda Jackson [53]
He turned and glanced at her in a way she wished he hadn’t. If looks could kill then she would definitely be dead. “Flush them down the damn toilet for all I care. And just for your information, Sam, I don’t have sex with women who don’t know the score. I’ve never misled a woman by making promises I didn’t intend to keep. The women I sleep with know I’m not into long-term relationships, and for whatever reason, they prefer things that way.”
He paused and then said in a somewhat softer tone, “I regret what happened on your wedding day. What your fiancé did to you was unforgivable in my book. And as for your friend who committed suicide, believe it or not, the same thing happened to my cousin Dex’s best friend, Greg. He fell in love with a girl in college and she played him and he took his own life. So men aren’t the only ones who are players. Just like all women aren’t alike, all men aren’t the same, either.”
Sam pulled in a deep breath. Instead of feeling a surge of satisfaction at what she’d just done to Blade, a part of her felt pangs of regret. “Look, Blade—”
“No!” he snarled. “You look, Sam. You got your damn pound of flesh. You got your laughs at my expense, so let’s end it there. We know where we stand with each other now. Personally, I don’t think you’re a nice person, and although it’s unlikely our paths will never cross, I suggest we try to avoid each other whenever possible.”
She lifted her chin. “Fine. And you can stop sending me those flowers.”
He glared back at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never sent you or any woman flowers, other than the women in my family.”
He then threw his head back and laughed. “And I’m such a fool that today was the first time I’ve ever given a woman I’m interested in flowers. For some reason I thought you were special. Damn, was I wrong. You can flush them down the toilet along with the condoms.”
Muttering an obscenity that Sam was grateful she couldn’t hear, Blade opened the door and walked out, slamming it shut behind him.
Blade let himself into his town house as rage blasted from every pore in his body. In all his thirty-four years, nothing like this had ever happened to him before. And the woman had had the damn nerve, the gall, to blame him for something he’d had nothing to do with.
Admittedly, he was a player. He enjoyed women. He liked variety when it came to making love, and so far there hadn’t been a woman out there capable of giving him what he wanted, what he needed and desired, all in one single package. Hell, considering his fantasies, he doubted it was possible for any one woman to fulfill his needs.
He didn’t make excuses for doing what he did, but he of all people respected women. He had enough of them in his family and had been taught from an early age how women were to be treated. He’d never held a gun to their heads to make them sleep with him, so what gave Sam the right to come off thinking she was justified in seeking revenge on behalf of women who’d ever been hurt by him?
He ignored the blinking message light on his answering machine as he walked through his living room toward the kitchen. He needed a beer. In all honesty, he needed something stronger, but he would settle for what he had.
Moments later he was leaning against the kitchen counter, after taking a huge swallow of his beer. The cold brew had flowed down his throat, but other than that, the drink hadn’t affected him. He was staring down at the floor as his anger continued to boil.
By her own admission she was a player hater? He had heard about those kinds of women, but had been lucky not to have encountered one until now. How could he have been so stupid, so gullible? So damn horny for a woman that he hadn’t seen the signs? How had he allowed her to get under his skin to the point that he had been chasing her for the past ten months like a fool?
And how in the hell had he allowed her to make a difference when no other woman had?
Damn! She was probably next door having a good old-fashioned laugh.
He slammed the beer bottle on the counter, almost