Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [37]
Would the guy never give it up and leave? Adam took a step closer to get him out of there when he overheard Tyler saying quietly to Becca at the front door, “I don’t like him staying here with you, alone. I don’t trust him.”
And then Becca’s voice, calm and soothing, and he could practically see her lightly touch her fingers to Tyler’s arm as she said, “He’s my first cousin, Tyler. I never did like him growing up. He was a bully and a know-it-all, always pushing me around because I was a girl. He’s grown up into a real sexist. But hey, he’s here and he is big. He’s also had some training, something like army special forces, I think, so he’d be useful if someone came around.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Look, if something happens, he’s an extra pair of hands. He’s harmless. Hey, I heard from his stepdad that he’s probably gay.”
Adam nearly lost it then. The laughter bubbled up. He practically had to slap his hand over his mouth to contain it. The laughter dried up in less than a second. He wanted to leap on her, close his hands around her skinny neck, and perhaps strangle her.
“Yeah, right, sure,” Tyler said. “A guy like that? Gay? I don’t believe it for a minute. You should stay with me and Sam, to be on the safe side.”
She said very gently, “No, you know I couldn’t do that, Tyler.”
Even after that, it took her another couple of minutes to get Tyler out of the house. She was locking the door when he said from behind her, “I’m not a sexist.”
She turned around to grin at him. “Aha! So you were eavesdropping. I thought you were probably lurking back there. I was afraid you were going to try to throw Tyler out of the house.”
“Maybe I would have if you hadn’t finally gotten a grip and pushed him out. I wasn’t a bully or a know-it-all, either, when I was growing up. I never tortured you.”
“Don’t become part of your own script, Adam. I can also write whatever I want to on that script, since it involves me.”
“I’m not gay, either.”
She laughed at him.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, jerked her against him, and kissed her fast and hard. He said against her mouth, “I’m not gay.”
She pulled away from him, stood stock-still, and stared at him. She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.
He streaked his fingers through his hair, standing it on end. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m not gay.”
She started shaking her head, then, as suddenly, unexpectedly, she threw back her head and laughed and laughed, wrapping her arms around herself.
It was a nice sound. He bet she hadn’t laughed much lately. She hiccuped. “You’re forgiven for trying to enforce your manhood. Got you on that one, hmmm?”
He realized he’d leapt for the bait. How could that have happened? He looked down at his fingernails, then buffed them lightly against his shirtsleeve. “Actually, what I should have said is I’m not at all certain yet that I’m gay. I’m still thinking about it. Kissing you was a test. Yeah, I’m still not certain one way or the other. You didn’t give me much data.” Not much of a return hit, but it was something.
She walked past him into the kitchen. She started measuring out coffee. When she finished, she turned the machine on and stood there, staring at the coffee dripping into the pot. Finally she turned and said, “I want to know who you are. Now. Don’t lie to me. I can’t take any more lies. Really, I just can’t.”
“All right. Pour me that coffee and I’ll tell you who I am and what I’m doing here.”
While she poured, he said, leaning back in his chair, balancing it on its two back legs, “Because you’re an amateur I looked at the problem very differently. But like I already told you, you didn’t do badly. Your only really big mistake was your try at misdirection with