Mia sat in tight-lipped silence all the way home, only unfolding her arms to push herself out of the car once he’d pulled up at the front of her cottage. She slammed it with a force that made him wince.
He had to jog to catch up with her. She didn’t hold the front door open for him, letting it fall behind her, meaning he had to catch it. But at least she hadn’t slammed it in his face. He told himself that was something.
‘You’re...uh...cross with me?’
She turned on him, and her eyes flashed with so much anger the hair at her temples seemed to shake with it.
She seized his right hand and glanced down at it. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
She dropped it as if it burned her. Moving to the freezer, she took out a packet of frozen peas. Grabbing his hand, she slammed it on top of his grazed knuckles. It didn’t really hurt any more, but he winced anyway, hoping it would give her more bloodthirsty impulses a measure of satisfaction. And he submitted when she pushed him towards one of her hard wooden chairs—not so hard now they sported pale blue chair pads.
She lifted his left hand and dropped it on top of the peas to hold them in place, then retreated to sit on the sofa and glower at him.
The silence started to saw on his nerves. ‘You think I’m an idiot?’
‘Totally.’
‘He had no right to call you what he did.’
‘You are utterly infuriating!’ Her hands balled into fists. ‘What he called me was despicable, but the best thing you could’ve done was walk away without giving him the satisfaction of reacting.’ She shot to her feet and started to pace. ‘Oh, but, no—you couldn’t manage that, could you? No! Your honour demanded reparation for the lady—regardless of how much more difficult you’d be making it for said lady!’
He shifted on the chair. ‘I...uh...’
‘The story will break in the tabloids, the ugliest accusations will be made, and I’ll be hounded by reporters and photographers at work. Hell!’ She flung her arms out. ‘Just wait until Gordon catches wind of this. I’ll be out on my ear.’ She swung to him, thumping a hand to her chest. ‘I need to finish this traineeship. I need a decent qualification so I can get a job.’
‘I’ve already told you—come and work for me.’
‘I don’t want to work for you!’
Her rejection stung. He shot to his feet then too. ‘That’s right—you’d rather bury yourself in some godforsaken place where you can sentence yourself to a life of solitary confinement.’
‘That’s my decision to make.’
He wanted to hurl the peas across the room. Except he didn’t want to ruin the pretty new furnishings. He had to settle for dropping them in the sink instead.
He moved back into the middle of the room. ‘I have no intention of making light of your experiences with the criminal justice system, but you’re letting one experience colour your entire life.’ That hard lump of anger in his chest rose up into his throat. ‘And I am not Johnnie Peters.’
Her entire frame shook. ‘I told you—this is about me. Not you.’ She didn’t yell, but her words speared through him as if they’d come at him at great volume. ‘You punched a man tonight, Dylan. That photographer can have you charged with assault. He’d be within his rights.’
It was true. It had been foolish to react. He couldn’t find it in himself to regret it, though.
‘And you made me an eye witness to the event.’
He swung back to meet her gaze. What he saw there made his heart burn.
‘If I were in love with you, and you asked me to lie to the police about what had happened tonight...’
She didn’t finish the sentence, but her pallor made his stomach churn.
‘You’re afraid you’d perjure yourself for me?’
‘If I fell in love with you, Dylan, I’m afraid I’d risk everything again.’
He reached out to curl his fingers around her shoulders. ‘I would never ask that of you.’
She moved away until his hands dropped back to his sides. ‘The best way for me to avoid that kind of temptation is to avoid romantic attachments altogether. All I want is a quiet life. It doesn’t seem too much to ask. It doesn’t seem like such a big sacrifice to make.’
Ice sped through his veins. ‘You’re mistaken if you think living a half-life isn’t a sacrifice. It’ll keep you out of jail, it’ll keep you out of trouble, but there are worse things than jail.’
She blinked, as if that wasn’t a thought that had ever occurred to her.
‘Living a life without love is one of them. And here’s another thing for you to think about. If I fell in love with you—’ he pointed a finger at her ‘—who’s to say you wouldn’t have the same power over me that Johnnie had over you? Who’s to say you wouldn’t force me to turn my back on my principles?’
The words spilled from him with an uncanny truth that left him reeling.
Her mouth dropped open.
He forged on, not understanding what was happening to him. ‘Do you think I’d lie, steal or perjure myself for you?’
Her hands twisted together. ‘You might lie for me...if it wasn’t a big lie.’
He widened his stance. ‘But the rest?’
She bit her lip and finally shook her head. ‘No.’
‘What makes you think you would, then?’
‘My past tells me I’m weak.’
‘Do you really think three years in prison—with all the education and counselling you received—hasn’t made you stronger?’
She still labelled herself as weak-willed and easy to manipulate. He understood her fear of prison, and her determination never to find herself back behind bars, but she was wrong. She might let people like Gordon push her around, but she was as strong as one of the Plum Pines the reserve was named after.
Behind the dark moss of her eyes he could see her mind racing. He mightn’t have convinced her. Yet. But he’d given her something to think about.
He snaked his hand behind her head and drew her face close to his.
‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked.
‘I’m giving you something else to think about. Do you really want to live without this, Mia?’
He wanted to slam his lips to hers and kiss her with all the pent-up frustration tearing at his soul. He didn’t. She’d tensed, ready to resist such an assault. And he didn’t want to hurt her. If she’d let him he’d do everything he could to make her happy.
He touched his lips to hers gently, slowly exploring the lush lines of her mouth—savouring her. He poured all of himself into the kiss, wanting to give her as much pleasure as he could.
With a shiver and a sigh she sank against him, her hands fisting in his shirt. At his gentle demand she opened up to him and he felt as if he was home. Murmuring her name, he moved to gather her close—only to find a hand planted on his chest, pushing him away.
‘Stop.’
He released her immediately.
Her chest rose and fell as if she’d been running. ‘You shouldn’t be kissing me.’
He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.