Chapter 8 #2
Her responding laugh was like bells. “Or maybe they melted. It’s a thousand degrees in here.”
He’d been so focused on her, he hadn’t noticed the heat. Now that she mentioned it, he could see sweat beading along her hairline and realized his undershirt was damp and clinging to his back.
“Maybe we’re just wearing too many clothes.”
She bit her lower lip and peered up at him, blue eyes sparkling under hooded lids. “I think that’s a pretty easy fix.”
He pushed up to a sitting position. His right leg tingled from lying too long in the same position. He rose, shaking his sleeping leg and extended his hands. “Let’s go back to my bedroom. It will be cooler there, and we’ll have more room.”
She tugged her jeans back up over her glorious skin and grasped his hand, her grip strong and firm. She let him pull her up. No questions. No hesitation. Just straight trust and determination. A sharp pang of guilt cut through his lust.
What the fuck was he doing?
Rosemary trusted him. What would she think of him if he took her to bed while she was the subject of his investigation? If their relationship continued, he’d have to confess that he’d orchestrated their meeting. Would she think he’d pursued her only to get to Moresco? Was that what he was doing?
She squeezed his hands. “Is everything all right?”
He had to tell her the truth before things went any further.
But loyalty to Phillipe warred with the need to treat her fairly.
It was hard to think with his dick raging.
The room was too fucking hot. Rosemary was too fucking hot.
He needed to think clearly, and to do that, he needed to put some space between them.
He released her hands, turned, and took a step away. Stabbing pain shot through his foot.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
He’d stubbed his toes on the goddamn coffee table.
He flopped back on the couch and pulled his foot up over his knee, rubbing his toes.
“Are you OK?”
He lifted his gaze. Rosemary’s lips were pressed tightly together but tilted up at the ends, and her eyes had a mischievous glint. Her expression was infectious. He felt the corners of his own mouth lift despite the ache in his toes.
“Are you laughing at me? You know, stubbing a toe is more painful than surgery. It’s a little-known fact.”
She sat down next to him, her weight shifting his cushion. “What made you change your mind?”
He respected her too much to pretend he didn’t understand her question.
And the truth will set you free.
“There are things you don’t know about me.”
She tilted her head to the side, her white-blonde hair glinting in the firelight. “We just met. There are a lot of things we don’t know about each other.”
“These are important things. Things about my job. Things I’m afraid you won’t like.”
She lowered her eyes. “There are important things you don’t know about me, either. Things I’m worried you won’t like.”
Her secrets couldn’t be at the same level as his.
Unless she really was in league with Moresco.
But it was hard to believe that could be her secret.
It didn’t fit with the glimpse of her soul he’d seen tonight.
He couldn’t imagine her involved with a cold-blooded killer.
Still, his training wouldn’t let him discard the possibility without firm proof.
She lifted her gaze, features fierce with determination.
“I don’t want whatever this is between us to wither and die because of fear.
Something good is growing here, but it needs water and light.
And part of that water and light is honesty.
Nothing real is going to grow if we aren’t real with each other. I’m done being afraid.”
She inhaled a deep breath, as if bracing herself, her gaze never leaving his. “This isn’t my real hair.”
Confusion hit him like Thor’s hammer.
“You dye your hair? Or is your hair short and you do that thing where they add hair to make it long?”
Now she was the one who looked confused. “You mean extensions?”
“I guess. My sister does that sometimes. One minute her hair is short, and the next minute it’s long. She complains about how expensive it is, and I tell her that’s the price she pays for cutting her hair every time she sees a pic she likes on Instagram.”
Rosemary released a heavy sigh and shook her head from side to side.
A full belly laugh burst from his mouth.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked.
“You’re giving me the same look my sister does when I’m clueless about something she thinks every other person on earth would know.”
“Most people do know about extensions,” Rosemary joked, but her smile was tight, and her pink cheeks had gone pale.
Silence settled over them. The lust was gone. The romance was gone. The laughter was gone. The air was heavy with unspoken words.
He folded his hands over hers. Her skin was sweaty, her fingers rigid.
“What is it?” he asked.
Tension vibrated between them. A tear slid down her cheek.
“It’s not mine.”
“What’s not yours?”
“My hair. It’s not my hair.” A quavering breath left her lips. “My last cancer treatment was a drug called Remiza. It saved my life, but it took every bit of hair on my body. It will never grow back. I’m bald. And I always will be.”