Celia laughed, but sobered quickly. “I should let you find out the hard way, I really should. But, well, she…”
“She what?” he asked in an ominous voice that none of the entire ten thousand employees of the lab would have been able to ignore. “Just tell me.”
“She’s moving out. Tonight.”
Hunter completed the normally ten-minute drive in less than four. Taking the stairs to Trisha’s apartment three at a time, he debated for maybe a millisecond about knocking. Then forsook the niceties and stormed in.
She sat on the couch, a faraway expression on her face as she stroked Duff in her lap. Immediately he saw her surrounded by a sea of empty boxes.
His sigh of relief sounded loud in the silent room. “I caught you in time, then,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep them off her.
Her gaze leaped to his, though she didn’t move a muscle. “I didn’t hear you knock.”
“That’s because I didn’t.” She sounded distant, cool, and so damn familiar he wanted to draw her up and gather her close. Instead, he stepped into the room and leaned against the wall. “What’s going on, Trisha?”
Her eyes drank in the sight of him, and he knew what she saw. Ruffled hair, haphazardly knotted tie, haggard features. Work. Too much work, that’s all that was wrong with him.
This insane panic at the sight of the moving boxes was all due to too much work
Oh, like hell. Lying was impossible, especially to himself. In two strides, he was standing in front of her; then, ignoring her startled squeak of surprise, he hauled her up, wrapped her in his arms, and looked at her.
Her voice, when she spoke, was shaking. “Hunter -”
He kissed her, thoroughly. Ah, this, this was what he’d wanted, needed, craved beyond belief all week, and he buried his face in her neck, pressing her close. Dragging his lips over her soft skin, he listened to her ragged breathing. As his hands slid over her, pulling her closer still, a little sound of pleasure rose from her throat and she fisted her hands in his hair to bring his face back to hers.
The kiss consumed him.
He lost himself in it, in the feel of her against him. “Trisha,” he groaned, and took her mouth again.
Then she shoved him away, hard.
Chest heaving, she stared at him. He stared back, aroused, stunned, terrified all at once.
“Is this some more of that lust we talked about?” she demanded.
No. God, no. “Yes.”
“Go away,” she whispered, putting a trembling hand to her chest.
That little vulnerable gesture tore at him. “I can’t.”
“You’ve managed well enough these past few days.” With a suspicious sheen to her eyes, she turned away and knelt before a box.
“I needed to think.” That sounded lame, even to his own ears. “Trisha, I -”
“I needed to think too,” she said quietly. “And this is best – for both of us, I think.”
Suddenly he knew exactly how she’d felt the other night when she’d had a panic attack. His windpipe tightened, cutting off his air. “Moving? That’s the answer?”
She nodded and reached for the closest bookshelf at her side. Grabbing a handful of books, she tossed them into the box. Blindly, since her scalding tears didn’t allow for much vision, she grabbed another handful, blinking frantically to hold back the flow.
“Trisha.”
Lord, that voice. He dropped to his knees beside her, silently took the books from her hands, and set them aside. Turning back, he touched her shoulders until she looked at him. “I don’t want you to move because of me.”
She waited, but he said nothing else. No vow of love, or even undying lust. Nothing that gave away one iota of feeling, except for the torment shining in his deep green eyes. So he hadn’t gotten over his fear yet, damn him. She loved him, more than her own life, but what else could she do? “I’m not moving for you,” she managed. “I’m doing it for me.”
He grimaced. “You wouldn’t have considered moving before I came here.”
“Maybe not.” She tried to twist free, but he held her with a gentle yet firm grip. “I’m going to do this, Hunter.” Her heart sent up a protest, which she ruthlessly squelched. Instead she surveyed her beautiful wide-open apartment.
Much as she loved it, it was nothing compared with being near the man she had come to love beyond reason. The man who had such a fear of letting go, of being hurt, that he couldn’t allow himself to love her back.
“I can’t stay here,” she said quietly, swallowing her sob. “I’ll find another home.”
“Because of me?” Something flickered in his eyes. “You’re leaving the only real home you’ve ever had, because of me?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “You know I can’t stay, feeling the way I do.”
He took a deep breath, straightened his already impossibly straight shoulders. “I got a call today from the realtor. He found a buyer.”
No, she wouldn’t cry. “I see. That’s nice for you.”
His voice, when it ended the pained silence, sounded husky with emotion. “They intend to rent the place out, not live here. So I put a clause in the contract about your staying.”
Her entire body went rigid. “Oh.” Her fingernails dug painfully into her palms, holding the tears at bay. “That was thoughtful of you.”
His shoulders hunched, and since he already towered over her, she felt surrounded by him. “I don’t want you to leave because of me,” he said again very softly. He bent his head close to hers, rubbing his slightly rough cheek over her smooth one.
Guilt. It drove him in a way she understood all too well. Her aunt had been the queen of guilt, but Trisha had vowed not to be controlled by her emotions any longer. “You can’t always have your way, Hunter.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted. “But I’m going to have my way in this. This place means everything to you and I won’t take it from you.” His voice, sure and steady, cracked. “And I won’t let you take it from yourself either.”
“I’m leaving,” she insisted, hardening herself to his anguish. “You can’t afford for me to stay. I’ll probably destroy something else by accident. Maybe the roof this time. I don’t know how, and I certainly won’t mean it, but it’ll just happen.”
“I don’t care -”
“I’m ready to move on anyway.”
He stood and reached for her hand, which she refused, pushing to her feet by herself. “Thought I’d try something completely different,” she said with a light shrug. “Maybe go on a long vacation first, to Tahiti or somewhere.”
He frowned. “By yourself?”
“Yeah.” She forced a smile past her aching heart. “Meet some new people. Then maybe a cruise to Alaska. Check out some glaciers.”
He looked horrified. “Glaciers?”
“Why not? I need a challenge.”
“Trisha,” he said slowly, “with your track record, I don’t think glaciers are a good idea.”
Oh, anger helped, it really did. “Despite what you think, I can handle myself.”
“I know,” he said with a sad smile. “And you’re quite good at it. You’ve had to be, with no one else to do the job.”
The tenderness in his gaze made her yearn and ache even more. “You have no right to do this,” she whispered. “No right at all.”
“Do what?”
“Be so… kind. Caring. I want to hate you, Hunter. Please, let me.”
His sad smile broke her heart. “You know, we never had our little talk.”
“About?” She crossed her arms defensively, knowing damn well what.
“Remember that night you had your panic attack? I had some questions for you then, but you’ve managed to avoid me ever since.”
“I’ve avoided you?” she asked incredulously, and laughed.
“That’s right,” he said evenly. “You’re fine, as long as we’re talking about anything but yourself, your past.”