Kate nodded, then got her purse from the floor. She pulled out a small plastic baggie that held a diamond engagement ring. “It’s real, so try not to lose it.”
Christie took the bag and pulled the ring out. It was lovely. A nice-sized solitaire in a platinum setting. “Is there a story behind this?”
“Yeah, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m telling it.” Kate closed her purse.
“You sure you haven’t dated any of those guys?” Christie asked, nodding at the file.
“Nope. Just carbon copies. I don’t know where all the good ones are, but they sure keep their distance from me.”
Christie sighed. “I hear you. They’re all taken or gay, or good in the sack and nothing else.”
“Good in the sack?” Kate opened the file. “Maybe I should date some of these guys.”
It was nice to laugh, to sit back in her own kitchen with good people who wanted nothing but to help her. It was nice to have a moment that wasn’t about terror.
BOONE STOOD IN THE HALL by the kitchen, wondering how long he should wait to walk in. Hearing Christie talk about the men in her life made his situation a lot less complicated. He was just another guy. Good in the sack but nothing else. He just wished knowing that didn’t make him feel like hell.
CHRISTIE STEPPED INTO the safe zone in the kitchen, and signaled Boone to follow. Once he was there, she touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. You’ve been sulking for the last two hours. Is there something wrong with the plan?”
“No,” he said, as if she were the one who was being all weird.
“Then what the hell is it?”
“I told you,” he said, looking at everything but her, “I’m fine.”
“You’re a liar. Somewhere between the bathroom and the kitchen, you went south, buddy. And since we’re talking about luring a lunatic into my home tonight, it would be nice to focus on that instead of you. So get over yourself, or tell me what I did so that I can apologize.”
“You didn’t do a goddamn thing.”
She sat down and put her head in her hands. Milo whined behind her, which was the perfect accompaniment. “Great. I’ve got the bastard watching my every move, a show to put on in under an hour, and now you’re throwing a hissy fit.”
When she finally looked up, Boone was glaring at her. She just glared right back. It was a game of chicken, and no way she was going to give in first.
“Oh, forget it,” Boone said, turning his back to walk out of the room.
“What is your problem?” she called after him, not understanding at all. He’d been so sincere in his apology that she’d found her resentment completely overshadowed. So what on earth had gotten him so angry since then? Goddammit, his pissy attitude shouldn’t matter at all. Her chest shouldn’t hurt like this, her hands shouldn’t be curled into useless fists. In fact, it was good to see this side of him. Here she’d been thinking he was this incredible guy, someone she could talk to, trust in, be herself with. She’d even thought that the two of them…
Was her judgment that off? Could she trust any of her feelings for him? Oh, screw it. She’d probably be dead by tonight, so what difference did it make?
BOONE HEADED INTO THE living room, but he couldn’t stay there. The fucking geek was watching and if Boone couldn’t kill him, he didn’t want to think about him. Which left the kitchen, already occupied, and the bathroom, which was not a great place to hang out in, especially when there was nothing to punch.
Anything was better than the living room, so he went down the hall, stopped at the bathroom door, cursed himself for a fool, then went right back to the kitchen.
Christie was sitting where he left her, the anger in her expression softened not by forgiveness but by sadness. Which made him feel even more like shit.
“What?” she asked, looking up at him with her big, dark eyes expecting nothing.
“I—” He shut his mouth, wishing he’d thought this through before making his entrance.
“You…?”
“It’s got nothing to do with you.”
She shook her head at him. “It’s just your time of the month?”
“Something like that.”
“Right. You know what? Fine. Apology accepted. No harm, no foul. I’m hungry, and we don’t have all that much time.”
She stood up, pushed her chair into the table with enough force to let him know that it definitely wasn’t fine.
Boone closed his eyes. The whole thing was nuts. So she didn’t think that much of him, so what? This wasn’t a popularity contest. He was here because he owed Nate, that’s all. Because he wasn’t about to walk out on her before they’d caught the geek. So they’d had sex. Big deal. It didn’t mean anything. She didn’t mean anything. Nothing. Sure he was attracted to her, so what?
He opened his eyes to find Christie holding a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a spoon. “What the hell’s that?”
“Ice cream.”
“You’re not having that for dinner.”
“Wanna bet?”
His anger rose again, filling him with heat and tension. “I’ll make you something, okay? You don’t have to lift a finger.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” she said, tossing the lid in the sink. She took a big spoonful of the chocolate ice cream and shoved it into her mouth.
“Goddammit,” he said, crossing the room in three steps. “Don’t you get it?” He pulled the container from her hand and shoved it into the trash can. “You’re fighting for your life here. It’s not a game. He wants to do you harm.”
Christie turned halfway to the sink, then swung at him so hard and so fast, she blindsided him with a punch right to the jaw. It hurt like hell, too.
Her left arm came at him, but he snatched her wrist halfway to his face. “Ow.”
“Let me go, you big oaf.”
“No.” He could feel her trembling with rage.
She pulled as hard as she could. “Let go. I’m not kidding.”
“Not if you’re going to hit me again.”
“Eating ice cream isn’t going to make a damn bit of difference,” she said.
He dropped her hand and walked out of the kitchen. It was everything he could do not to put his fist through the wall.
CHRISTIE WRAPPED HER ARMS around her stomach, nausea making her breathe hard for a moment before she could even look at Boone. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to screw this up.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know that? I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to say.”
He touched her shoulder, and she jumped. “Christie, look at me.”
She met his gaze, fighting tears, fighting the urge to run until she couldn’t run anymore. She felt terrible about how they’d left things, what she’d said.
“You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You’ve faced this thing for months, all on your own. Now we have a plan.