alone.”
“All right, fine.” He released her and stormed out. Anger and frustration carried him halfway across the lawn. Michael stopped, swore and wished bitterly for a cigarette. She had no right to accuse him. Worse, she had no right to make him feel responsible. The guilt he was experiencing was nearly as strong as it would have been if he’d actually vandalized her shop. Hands in his pockets, he stood staring back at the shed and cursing her.
She really thought he’d done that to her. That he was capable of such meaningless, bitter destruction. He’d tried to talk to her, soothe her. Every offer of help had been thrown back at him. Just like her, he thought with his teeth gritted. She deserved to be left alone.
He nearly started back to the house again when he remembered just how shocked and ill she’d looked in the doorway of the shed. Calling himself a fool, he went back.
When he opened the door of the shed again, the chaos was just as it had been. Sitting in the middle of it on the floor by her workbench was Pandora. She was weeping quietly.
He felt the initial male panic at being confronted with feminine tears and surprise that they came from Pandora who never shed them. Yet he felt sympathy for someone who’d been dealt a bull’s-eye blow. Without saying a word, he went to her and slipped his arms around her.
She stiffened, but he’d expected it. “I told you to go away.”
“Yeah. Why should I listen to you?” He stroked her hair.
She wanted to crawl into his lap and weep for hours. “I don’t want you here.”
“I know. Just pretend I’m someone else.” He drew her against his chest.
“I’m only crying because I’m angry.” With a sniff, she turned her face into his shirt.
“Sure.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go ahead and be angry for a while. I’m used to it.”
She told herself it was because she was weakened by shock and grief, but she relaxed against him. The tears came in floods. When she cried, she cried wholeheartedly. When she was finished, she was done.
Tears dry, she sat cushioned against him. Secure. She wouldn’t question it now. Along with the anger came a sense of shame she was unaccustomed to. She’d been filthy to him. But he’d come back and held her. Who’d have expected him to be patient, or caring? Or strong enough to make her acceptboth. Pandora let out a long breath and kept her eyes shut for just a moment. He smelled of soap and nothing else.
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
She was soft. Hadn’t he just told himself she wouldn’t be? He let his cheek brush against her hair. “Okay.”
“No, I mean it.” When she turned her head her lips skimmed across his cheek. It surprised them both. That kind of contact was for friends—or lovers. “I couldn’t think after I walked in here. I—” She broke off a moment, fascinated by his eyes. Wasn’t it strange how small the world could become if you looked into someone’s eyes? Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before? “I need to sort all this out.”
“Yeah.” He ran a fingertip down her cheek. She was soft. Softer than he’d let himself believe. “We both do.”
It was so easy to settle herself in the crook of his arm. “I can’t think.”
“No?” Her lips were only an inch from his—too close to ignore, too far to taste. “Let’s both not think for a minute.”
When he touched his mouth to hers, she didn’t draw away but accepted, experimented with the same sense of curiosity that moved through him. It wasn’t an explosion or a shock, but a test for both of them. One they’d both known would come sooner or later.
She tasted warm, and her sweetness had a bite. He’d known her so long, shouldn’t he have known that? Her body felt primed to move, to act, to race. Soft, yes, she was soft, but not pliant. Perhaps he’d have found pliancy too easy. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth hers met it teasingly, playfully. Hisstomach knotted. She made him want more, much
“All right, fine.” He released her and stormed out. Anger and frustration carried him halfway across the lawn. Michael stopped, swore and wished bitterly for a cigarette. She had no right to accuse him. Worse, she had no right to make him feel responsible. The guilt he was experiencing was nearly as strong as it would have been if he’d actually vandalized her shop. Hands in his pockets, he stood staring back at the shed and cursing her.
She really thought he’d done that to her. That he was capable of such meaningless, bitter destruction. He’d tried to talk to her, soothe her. Every offer of help had been thrown back at him. Just like her, he thought with his teeth gritted. She deserved to be left alone.
He nearly started back to the house again when he remembered just how shocked and ill she’d looked in the doorway of the shed. Calling himself a fool, he went back.
When he opened the door of the shed again, the chaos was just as it had been. Sitting in the middle of it on the floor by her workbench was Pandora. She was weeping quietly.
He felt the initial male panic at being confronted with feminine tears and surprise that they came from Pandora who never shed them. Yet he felt sympathy for someone who’d been dealt a bull’s-eye blow. Without saying a word, he went to her and slipped his arms around her.
She stiffened, but he’d expected it. “I told you to go away.”
“Yeah. Why should I listen to you?” He stroked her hair.
She wanted to crawl into his lap and weep for hours. “I don’t want you here.”
“I know. Just pretend I’m someone else.” He drew her against his chest.
“I’m only crying because I’m angry.” With a sniff, she turned her face into his shirt.
“Sure.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go ahead and be angry for a while. I’m used to it.”
She told herself it was because she was weakened by shock and grief, but she relaxed against him. The tears came in floods. When she cried, she cried wholeheartedly. When she was finished, she was done.
Tears dry, she sat cushioned against him. Secure. She wouldn’t question it now. Along with the anger came a sense of shame she was unaccustomed to. She’d been filthy to him. But he’d come back and held her. Who’d have expected him to be patient, or caring? Or strong enough to make her acceptboth. Pandora let out a long breath and kept her eyes shut for just a moment. He smelled of soap and nothing else.
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
She was soft. Hadn’t he just told himself she wouldn’t be? He let his cheek brush against her hair. “Okay.”
“No, I mean it.” When she turned her head her lips skimmed across his cheek. It surprised them both. That kind of contact was for friends—or lovers. “I couldn’t think after I walked in here. I—” She broke off a moment, fascinated by his eyes. Wasn’t it strange how small the world could become if you looked into someone’s eyes? Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before? “I need to sort all this out.”
“Yeah.” He ran a fingertip down her cheek. She was soft. Softer than he’d let himself believe. “We both do.”
It was so easy to settle herself in the crook of his arm. “I can’t think.”
“No?” Her lips were only an inch from his—too close to ignore, too far to taste. “Let’s both not think for a minute.”
When he touched his mouth to hers, she didn’t draw away but accepted, experimented with the same sense of curiosity that moved through him. It wasn’t an explosion or a shock, but a test for both of them. One they’d both known would come sooner or later.
She tasted warm, and her sweetness had a bite. He’d known her so long, shouldn’t he have known that? Her body felt primed to move, to act, to race. Soft, yes, she was soft, but not pliant. Perhaps he’d have found pliancy too easy. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth hers met it teasingly, playfully. Hisstomach knotted. She made him want more, much
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