He strode across the room and opened the door, pausing to gaze down at her. "Are you trying to tell me you never wondered?"
"About what?"
"If I was married?"
"No. It never crossed my mind." The thought was sickening. He could have been married and she had never considered the possibility.
He was watching her in a strange way. "Do married men kiss you all the time?"
She caught her breath. "No!" She glared at him, both hands on her hips. "And who are you to talk? I didn't notice you asking me if I was married before you kissed me?"
A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Didn't I?" He reached out and claimed her hand, running a finger around the white band where her engagement ring had been. "And what's this? If you're married..."
She snatched her hand back. "I'm not married, and I would never fool around," she ground out. So he thought she was a married woman on the make. She blinked back tears.
He reached for her and she stepped back. His eyes were dark now - almost brown as he regarded her soberly. "I know you're not married. I asked Clara."
Why did he need to ask Clara? Why not ask Dad - unless he was afraid Dad would get the wrong idea. Of course, Clara was handy - and overflowing with information.
"If you were asking Clara, then why were you pointing a finger at me?"
He took her hands and pulled her close, gazing down at her with an expression that sent her heart pounding. He stroked her cheek gently and leaned down, softly kissing her lips.
"I wasn't pointing a finger at you." He kissed her again. "I was merely noting the difference between men and women."
She pushed away. His kisses were intoxicating, and this was no place to loose control. "And what difference is that?"
He shrugged. "When a man wants to know something, he simply asks. When a woman wants to know, she looks for some clever way to trick the man into disclosing the facts."
He reached for her again and she dodged. The doorknob was like a dangling rope in a well. She clung to it as an escape from the turbid waters below the surface of their conversation. How she would love to be taken in his arms again, and kissed as only he could. Did he have any idea how irresistible he was?
"Fascinating, Freud." She said in an unsteady voice. "Maybe you could write a book about the differences between men and women."
The door was open, the inferno waiting. She stepped out of the cool apartment and started down the stairs.