He’d meant that last part as a joke, but she sobered immediately.
“I’m sorry about that, Rod. At fifteen, I was nothing but a…a spoiled brat. I can’t tell you how bad I’ve felt about that incident ever since. When Starkey told me you were back in town, I was hoping I wouldn’t even have to see you, I was still so embarrassed.”
He hadn’t expected such an honest and heartfelt apology. It made the grudge he’d been carrying seem childish. But he wasn’t noble enough to completely relinquish the power her contrition gave him—not without having some fun with it first. “So what are you going to do to make it up to me?”
“What do you want?” She sounded suspicious, but she was smiling.
He stepped inside, crowding her.
She moved back to make room for him. “I’d like to see if you have any more tattoos.”
“I don’t.”
The door closed with a click. “Prove it.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “How?”
“Lose the shirt.”
“Here? Now?”
“Quit stalling. You’ve already seen everything I’ve got. Now you owe me.”
“I thought we were even.”
“Not by a long shot.”
She took another step back. “I let you out of jail last night.”
“You shouldn’t have arrested me in the first place.”
“That’s not strictly true.”
“Excuses. What, are you too chicken to give as good as you got?”
Her chest rose as she drew in a deep breath. “Still getting up my nerve.”
She was going to do it? “Should I help?”
“Absolutely not.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Then why don’t you start?”
Slowly, she began to bare her midriff.
“That’s it,” he murmured as more and more of her came into view. He spotted a pretty little beauty mark below her rib cage, noticed how smooth and creamy her skin looked. But once she exposed her br**sts, all his blood headed to his groin, and he could hardly breathe, let alone think.
When he didn’t react, confusion and uncertainty entered her eyes. She assumed his silence meant he didn’t like what he saw and was lowering her shirt.
He needed to say something. But he was too busy wrestling with himself. Part of him wanted to seduce her, to slip his hand up under that shirt and cup her breast. He was pretty sure she’d let him. She was lonely, hungry for physical fulfillment, as vulnerable as he’d been fourteen years ago. The tables had turned just as he’d always dreamed. But he couldn’t allow himself to take advantage of her. He refused to be that selfish, that callous.
Swallowing hard, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug of indifference. “Not bad.”
Such a bland response was almost a slap in the face, but it worked. His lack of appreciation stung her enough to make her defensive, unwilling to trust him again.
She crossed her arms over her chest, even though her shirt was back in place. “Well, whether you enjoyed the show or not, I did what you asked. So…you forgive me, right?”
“For what?” He was so busy battling the effects of the testosterone flooding his body that he couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about.
“Standing you up for Homecoming.”
“Of course. You made the right decision. Whoever you chose over me probably took you out for steak and lobster. I barely had enough money for pizza.”
He’d just been referring to the practical benefits of going out with someone who had more money than he’d had at the time, trying to divorce feeling from action so they could forget what had happened and move on. But his words only made the strain between them worse.
“That wasn’t why I did it,” she said softly.
Suddenly angry at himself for using her apology as leverage to get her to flash him, he scowled. “Yeah, well, forget it. I was joking earlier. You were never that important to me.”
She blinked several times. “You can be an insensitive jerk, you know that?”
But an insensitive jerk was better than what he’d be if he carried her into the bedroom and convinced her to give him what she wouldn’t give anyone else. “Better you learn that now.”
“Or?”
“Or it might be a harder lesson later.”
Her laugh was more of a scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Those words offered a fresh challenge, a new temptation, but he didn’t let himself react the way he wished he could. “Milt called to tell me the FBI has formed the task force you’ve been waiting for and they’re going to jump all over this UDA case,” he said, turning the conversation to business, where it should’ve been from the beginning.
She avoided his gaze but made an effort to speak more stridently than she had a moment earlier. “Took them long enough.”
“They had to replace two senior agents. They won’t say why, but they made some transfers and are now ready to come on board. The special agent in charge wants to meet us in an hour.”
“Us?”
He knew she must want to be rid of him now more than ever. He’d coaxed her to let go, to be daring, and then he’d made her regret it. But once she’d actually lifted her shirt, he didn’t see that he’d had any other alternative. “Us,” he repeated. “They called you to set it up, even though I’m the chief of police.”
Thanks to him, she was having a very bad afternoon, and he knew it. “I told you I have friends in high places.” He was joking, but she didn’t crack a smile, and he wasn’t feeling very happy, either.
He waved at her general dishevelment. “Why don’t you jump in the shower while I make breakfast?”
She shook her head. “There’s no need for you to wait here while I get ready. I’ll meet you. Where do I go?”
He’d been hoping to make up for what he’d just done. He liked to cook, liked taking care of people. But she wasn’t about to let him. She was slipping back into tough-cop mode.
“The meeting’s at the Sierra Vista Resident Agency,” he said. “There’s no point in both of us driving that far.”
“Except that I have a lot of errands to run on my way home.”
“You’ve got to eat.”
“I can manage on my own.”
It wasn’t going to be easy to work with her. They couldn’t seem to find any middle ground. They were either too busy hating each other or wanting to make love.