“Sorry. My turn.” She bestowed the sweetest smile she could muster on him. “When were you married?”
“Before I ever met you.”
This came as a total shock. “But we were only twenty-three when we met! How could you have already been married? And why didn’t you ever tell me?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Wait a second—are we trading more questions?”
She pursed her lips as she considered whether or not to continue.
“Well?” he prompted. But before she could answer, he went back to the desk. “Never mind. This is pointless.”
She followed him as far as the aisle between the two beds. “That was a quick reversal. What’s the matter? Got a few secrets to hide? Like the fact that you were married when we were dating?”
He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t married when we were dating. That one’s for free. But Twenty Questions is now officially over.” Pivoting, he stalked toward her. “Unless…”
As he advanced, she backed up until her spine touched the wall, but the subtle lift in his tone had caught her like a baited hook. “Unless what?”
“Unless you’re willing to trade something else.”
She couldn’t believe he’d been married and never told her. She had a million questions. But what would he demand in exchange? “Like what?”
His gaze fell to her lips. “A kiss.”
Again wishing she’d gotten her clothes and dressed before starting this conversation, she hugged the towel to her body. “No,” she said with a shake of her head.
Lowering his voice to a seductive whisper, he leaned in until his lips were only a fraction of an inch from hers. “Is this the same woman who was willing to get into the back of the van with me last night for a hit-and-run? The same woman who said making love wouldn’t mean anything?”
Her throat was suddenly so dry she had difficulty swallowing. They were treading on dangerous ground again. “I said it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Neither does a kiss.”
She couldn’t argue with his logic. But the butterflies rioting in her stomach made her feel too vulnerable to take that kind of intimacy in stride. “Maybe not. But…” But what? She already knew she wouldn’t refuse. His proximity jammed all the frequencies in her brain. “If I agree, you have to satisfy my curiosity about your marriage. Even if that means three or four questions.”
She noticed a brooding quality in his expression, which surprised her. He’d asked for this and yet he didn’t act as if he was getting what he wanted—he acted as if she was leading him to the hangman’s noose.
“Lori isn’t a subject I like talking about,” he said. “One kiss per question. Take it or leave it.”
21
He was a fool to whet his own appetite. No question about it. For some reason, he’d rather torture himself with what used to be—what could’ve been—than steer clear of physical contact. Kissing Francesca would be a poignant, perhaps painful, reminder of all he’d lost. But Jonah couldn’t persuade his worthless heart to accept the no-touch policy he’d tried so hard to follow.
He’d always had to learn his lessons the hard way. Apparently, this one would be no different….
“Who’s going first?” she breathed, her amber eyes filled with an unsettling mixture of doubt and desire.
“I am.” Maybe he’d pay for this later, but God, what a way to go. It’d been so long….
Propping his hands against the wall on either side of her, he bent his head and brushed his mouth across hers. He didn’t want to come on too strong. All he needed was one taste, he told himself. But when her palms cupped his chin and her lips softened, he couldn’t have pulled away even if the motel was on fire.
Jonah had enough sense left to realize that he was sliding down a very slippery slope, but the kiss had started out so perfect—gentle, slow, controlled. He was determined to finish it just as perfectly, to give her a moment of tenderness to remember him by, a bittersweet farewell to the relationship they’d once shared.
Or maybe that wasn’t his real goal. Maybe, if he was completely honest, he’d admit this was his way of showing her that he could exercise some restraint, that he wasn’t out to use her or any other woman. But then her lips parted, welcoming his tongue, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hang on to his restraint….
She groaned. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t thought she’d let him know she was enjoying this, but that encouragement sent an onslaught of testosterone into his bloodstream. Chest rising and falling, he explored the warmth of her mouth in a leisurely manner, hoping to drive the pleasure higher, to make her want him with a desperation that rivaled his own….
And then her body arched into his and she moaned again.
He almost moved his hand, almost went for her towel. But his cell phone rang, and the personalized ring identified the caller as Finch or Hunsacker. The detectives were probably confirming that they’d be at the meeting.
Pulling away, he turned so she wouldn’t be able to see that he was shaking. He’d missed the call and didn’t plan to return it until they were in the car, but the interruption had brought him to his senses, reminded him of his responsibilities—and his limitations where she was concerned.
“It’s your turn,” he said as he strode to the bed to put on his shoes. “What did you want to ask me?”
If he’d been interested in sharing any details about Lori, he would’ve mentioned his ex ten years ago. But a deal was a deal. He’d gotten even more than he’d wanted. The least he could do was reciprocate.
Francesca didn’t answer right away. When she did try to talk, she had to clear her throat first. “Why—why did the two of you break up?”
He recognized the doubt in her voice. She wondered if he’d cheated on Lori, too. After what he’d done, there was no way to reclaim her trust, no way to rectify his mistake. Knowing the past would always stand between them made him crazy for kissing her. He couldn’t have what he’d once had; he’d already destroyed it. “Not what you’re thinking.”
“So what was it?”
Did she believe him? Probably not. Why would she?
“Jonah?” she persisted.
He managed a sardonic smile as he looked back at her. “I wasn’t her type.”
Hunsacker rested his hands on his bulging stomach as he sat next to Jonah and across from Francesca in the conference room they’d used before. He hadn’t spoken yet, merely nodded when they filed into the sheriff’s station. But something was up. Francesca could feel it. Instead of being angry, as she’d assumed, he seemed pleased with himself. Far too pleased.