We stayed at the cabin for less than an hour before driving to the airport. The plane ride home passed in agonizing slowness. Neither of us spoke. I sat still, eyes closed, not wanting to face Royce or the land so far below. At that point, I wasn't sure what would have been better. Crashing and dying or carrying on a conversation with Royce.
After we landed, he drove to my apartment building. The same uneasy silence filled the car. I hated it. We'd been so comfortable with each other before, and I already missed that. Had he decided that I wasn't the right woman for him after all? My hands tightened into fists, the thought not sitting well with me.
Yes, I realized how contradictory my thoughts were, how silly I was acting, but I had no control over my emotions. I had no control over the way this man made me feel. I constantly swung to both sides of the pendulum: I wanted him, I didn't. I needed him, I didn't. One part of me constantly battled the other.
When his luxury sedan came to a stop just outside my apartment, he removed the key from the ignition. "I'll help you inside."
"That isn't necessary," I told him, deciding to get as far away from him as possible so I could think about all that had happened. "I can get myself in."
"I'll carry your bag."
"I told you, I can get myself in."
He frowned. "Let me do this, Naomi."
"Fine."
I held my head high as I emerged from the car. And even as I unlocked the front door, I kept up the casual facade of a woman who cared about nothing more important than the weather.
When the lock clicked, Royce leaned forward. His chest brushed my back as he held the door open and out of my way. I stepped inside, away from him, and turned, blocking any move he might make to come inside.
"If you'll set my bag down," I said primly, "I'll get it the rest of the way in."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I don't know what gave you the idea that I'd let a woman of mine leave me outside without any kind of goodbye, but I assure you, it's the wrong idea."
My heart skipped a beat, and I opened my mouth to respond. No sound emerged.
"We're not finished, sweetheart, and you can't get rid of me so easily. If you think you can shove me aside because you're afraid of the past and the future, you need to readjust your thinking. And I'm more than willing to help you with that."
"H-how?" I didn't know what else to say.
He shrugged and leaned in a little closer to me. "You'll just have to wait and see."
I gulped. His words were innocent, but his tone was so suggestively sensual a tremor swept through me.
"Right now," he said, "there are some things I need to discuss with you. We can have the discussion out here, for all your neighbors to hear, or you can invite me in."
The man was simply too tempting, a smooth talker who could easily charm me out of my clothes. "I can't let you in."
He took a step closer to me. "I don't have a single qualm about making a scene guaranteed to keep your neighbors entertained for weeks. Who knows? Maybe the Tattler wants to snap another picture of you."
"You wouldn't," I gasped.
"Try me."
There was a hard edge of determination to him that I'd only seen a few times before. Yeah, he'd do whatever was necessary to get inside. I moved out of his way. He brushed past me and set my bags beside the couch. He plopped down on the oversize cushions and motioned for me to take the space next to him.
I ignored his gesture and stood off to the side. One whiff of him and I might crumble like a condemned house. Before he could speak, I said, "I don't think we should discuss last night. It would be best if we just pretended it never happened."
"Maybe you can do that, sweetheart, but I'll never forget how you screamed my name so many times."
"Perhaps we should stop working together, as well," I continued, as if I hadn't heard him. I needed the money, yes, but I needed my sanity more. "I can put together a list of planners suited to y-"
He cut me off. "You agreed to help me with this, Naomi. Quit and I'll sue you for breach of contract."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why don't you go ahead and try it. We never signed a contract."
"You don't really want to fight me on this. I can be a bastard when I have to be."
"Like that's news," I muttered. If I were honest, though, I was immensely relieved he hadn't taken me up on my offer. I don't know why I'd even suggested it. The thought of never seeing him again rocked me to the core. In a horrible, horrible way.
"By the way," he drew out. "I want to know if you're pregnant."
I shook my head, trying to block out the P word and ensuing thoughts of the M and B words. "I'm not."
"You can't be sure."
"I'm just not, I tell you." But what if I was? A little thrill worked its way through me, the same kind of thrill I'd ignored last night, giving precedence to my panic and fear. I might not be ready for the M word, but the thought of the B word, a baby-there, I'd thought it-didn't make me panic nearly as much for some reason.
The thought of having Royce's baby suddenly made me feel all warm and tingly. God knows when I'd know for sure. My periods had always been irregular.
"Are you psychic?" he asked.
"I've been known to correctly guess the future," I lied.
He rolled his eyes. "Your voice got higher. You really need to work on your bluffing skills."
I stomped my foot and slitted my gaze at him. "Damn it-"
"You will let me know if-"
"-I told you-"
"-you're pregnant because I-"
"-I'm not-"
"-have a right to know."
"-pregnant."
He stared me down, and long minutes passed in silence.
"Fine," I finally said. "Yes. I'll tell you." Maybe.
Before I could protest, he rose and placed a hard kiss on my forehead. My lips puckered of their own accord, hoping he'd kiss them, too. "You still work for me, Naomi. I won't let you quit."
"Fine," I said again. "I won't quit."
"I'm not leaving until I have your word."
"I said okay, and I meant it. On both counts." Making a shooing motion with my hands, I said, "Now leave. I need to unpack."
"Tell me truthfully, first. Did you enjoy being with me?"
"I guess," I grudgingly admitted.
"And you'd like to be with me again?"
Damn him. "Yes, but that doesn't mean-"
"Yes," he said smugly. "It does." He strode out the door with a smile on his face, all hints of his dark mood gone.
What the hell kind of lame-ass Tigress was I? I couldn't lie worth a damn, and I hadn't told Royce to get the hell out of my life.
I decided to order a pizza and call it a day.
I gorged myself on pizza and worked on Mrs. Powell's party invitations. Which, I had to admit, were pretty amazing. I'd decided to go with something new, something different. The top portion featured a woman's bright emerald eyes, a paste-on jewel between them, and covering what would have been her nose and mouth but was actually the wording was a thin, wispy pink veil.
Sometimes I amazed myself.
When that was done, I had a long chat with my inner Tigress about her too frequent disappearing acts, then threw pepperonis at the old newspaper article about Royce that I'd saved, and decided I might-would probably-was destined to-sleep with Royce again. He was right, damn him. We weren't done.
I had needs. He had needs. I'd had a taste of him, and like an addict, I wanted more. Already. He was that potent. I'd just have to fight harder to keep my emotions under control-and his emotions, as well.
I sighed.
It was time to call my mom. I'd keep it casual. See how things were going. What I really wanted to know was what Jonathan was up to. I picked up the phone and dialed.
She answered on the second ring. "Hello."
I jumped right into the conversation as if she'd said, What can I help you with, Naomi? "Tell me what Jonathan's been up to these last two days." How was that for casual?