“Great!” she squeaked, not thinking.
John opened the box in his hand and right there in the middle of it was a huge diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”
Her mouth dropped open and she blanked, couldn’t say anything. Went numb with shock.
The front door slapped against the wall, making a loud thump. Leslie jerked, and her eyes went round and panicked when Peter sauntered in.
He took one look at the scene and stopped dead, scowling hotly. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
PETER COULDN’T BELIEVE his eyes.
John Crispin on his knees proposing to Leslie. It was wrong. Just all around wrong. “What the hell do you think you two are doing?”
The ballplayer looked from Leslie to Peter, clearly confused. “I was trying to ask her to marry me before you busted in without knocking.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you knock?”
Peter clamped his mouth shut and stared at Leslie. She had a whole lot of explaining to do, and she’d better start quick. Because it looked a whole lot like she’d screwed him senseless last week and declared her love, only to turn right back around a minute later and give her heart to someone else. Christ. He’d known it—known it the moment he’d spotted Crispin at the club during the Series that it was only going to bring trouble.
Damn her hot, fickle ass.
A growl started to rumble low in his chest as she stared at him blankly while another man crouched on his knee before her with a giant goddamn ring.
It looked like he wasn’t immune to the good ol’ Kowalskin family curse. He couldn’t keep his woman either. Terrific.
“Now, Peter,” Crispin started, putting the ring back in the box. “If I’m in your territory, brother, I didn’t know it. But I’m not sorry. I care for Leslie.”
“I can’t. John, I’m sorry. I just can’t.” Her voice was soft and resigned.
So the mouse finally found her voice, did she? “You can’t what? Marry another man after you’ve been screwing me?” His anger had gained momentum and was currently churning in his gut like a storm. He didn’t know why it hit him so suddenly, so violently. All he knew was that the minute he’d spotted Leslie all dolled up in a slinky dress with another man, he’d wanted to hit something.
He couldn’t stand the thought of her being with anyone else.
“It’s not like that.” Her eyes were round with sincerity.
But he didn’t buy it. Why wouldn’t she want a guy like Crispin rather than him? The guy came from healthy stock, a solid upbringing. He wasn’t damaged goods like Peter.
“Oh really? Then why don’t you tell me what it’s like, Leslie.” He spat. Under the anger was a whole lot of hurt, a lot of stinging betrayal. And he didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to understand it.
She was supposed to love him.
John hastened to his feet and held out his hands to Peter in a show of peace. “I can see that I made a mistake here, so I’m just going to leave.”
Peter barely flicked him a glance. “Yeah, I think you better.” His attention was only on the heartache in the black dress in front of him.
The big ballplayer left as the tension stretched almost to the breaking point. Then the two of them were left alone, staring at each other, chests heaving. Silence stretched and Peter’s nerves frayed.
He couldn’t stand it. “What were you doing on a date with John? God, you didn’t even wait, did you? You just went right to him the minute my back was turned.” He knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t help it. He hurt. In a way like he’d never experienced before. It was tearing him up inside. And he didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know where to put it.
“Now you hold on there,” said his unfaithful princess, fire lighting in the dark-forest depths of her eyes and her back snapping straight. “You don’t get to accuse me, Peter Kowalskin. Not after what you’ve done.”
What he’d done? “I’ve done nothing, you pretty little liar.”
She reared back, her hand flying to her barely contained tits in her low cut dress. “Excuse me?” she gasped incredulously. “You’re the lair.”
He raked both hands through his hair. “What the hell are you talking about? You lied to me.” Pain lashed him and he couldn’t quite hide it when he looked at her and said, “You told me you loved me.”
Leslie crossed her arms. “I changed my mind.” Her voice dripped with challenge as she stared him down, practically begging him to call her out.
“You did, did you?” His voice was deadly soft.
“Absolutely.” She snapped her fingers. “Just that easy.”
Peter opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Like you should really give a shit anyway, you lying jerk.”
His chest burned in response to her words. Wasn’t love supposed to be more loyal than that? How could she just up and change her mind? “Fine. What did I lie to you about?”
Her cheeks were flushed, her voice glacial. “My apartment.”
That stopped him. “What?”
“I know about my apartment. I know you lied to me and you made Jerry lie too. Lorelei found a package tracking receipt.”
He snorted. “Is that what you’re all bent about?”
“Yes.” She ground out.
“Fine. You got me. I’m guilty.” He threw up his hands. But he didn’t feel bad. His lie didn’t even come close to comparing to the whopper she’d told him. And here he’d been starting to think that Leslie being in love with him might not be such a bad thing. In fact, he was sort of starting to depend on it.
Her lips pressed into a tight line. Seeing the strain on her face took some of the fury out of him. He couldn’t stand to see her cry.
“How could you do that to me?” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“You know why, Leslie.”
She shook her head vigorously. “I don’t. I don’t know why.”
He could tell she was being sincere. His hands dropped from his hair and fell to his sides, his heart squeezing painfully. What was the use in evading?
He didn’t. “Because I was desperate to have you.”
A smile he’d never seen before twisted her beautiful lips. It was more like a snarl and filled with self-loathing. “It wasn’t that hard. You got me. Congratulations.”
It broke his heart.
LESLIE PUSHED AWAY from the refrigerator, her heart pounding and bitterness making her eyes tear. She was so mad at Peter for manipulating her. And she was so fucking mad at herself for sleeping with him, for throwing away her convictions so easily.
She rounded on him, shouting, “You set me up to fail!” There was so much anger, so much bitterness. All she wanted was someone to blame.
“How’s that?” He crossed his arms and leaned back into the counter, looking at her with one brow arched.
“You knew I couldn’t resist you.” There, she’d admitted the truth.
“How is that my fault?” He replied flatly.
It was a knife in the heart. She sucked in air, stunned. “How could you say that to me?”
“How can you take back loving me?” He crossed his ankles, too, looking oh-so-cool-and-casual. It was so misleading.
The question fell, raw and unfiltered—just like the man who’d spoken it. And it took her knees out from under her. Her shoulders slumped from the weight of her lie. “Because.”
He uncrossed his ankles. “That’s it? Just because?” His lips twitched.
“Yes.”
Slowly he untangled himself and walked toward her. The expression is his eyes began to change, began to heat. “Then how about you fall back in love with me—just because?”