"Thank you." She gave a little bow. "And you're not just another P.I."
She laughed, but he didn't think her comment was funny. "Anyway," she went on, "if you're so heartbroken over Sheridan that it hurts to talk about her, I--"
"It doesn't hurt," he interrupted, irritated without really understanding why.
"Then what's the big deal? She knows. I know. We all know how you feel."
But it wasn't Sheridan on his mind. It was Zoe. The longer he went without touching her, the more he wanted to. And he knew his chances of making love to her again were diminishing by the second--if he'd had any to begin with, after this morning. "My relationship with Sheridan isn't important. She's married. We're coworkers. That's it."
"Have you ever made love to her?"
"Zoe--"
"It's okay, you can be honest. I wanted you so badly last night I probably would've done what I did despite Sheridan."
Did that mean she didn't want him anymore? Because repeating the experience was all he could think about.
"I'm equally to blame for what happened," she was saying. "And it's not as if I was expecting any sort of commitment." She raised her hands. "I don't know why I let it bother me."
Although he wasn't willing to speculate on exactly why, he liked it better when it bothered her.
"I mean, it's not as if it was anything special," she said. "I'm sure you were thinking about Sheridan the whole time."
Now she'd gone too far. Stopping, he faced her. "If you're trying to let me know I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting in your pants again, consider me notified," he said and cut the walk short.
Zoe had made her point. Maybe she'd driven it home a little too hard, she thought as she took a hot shower. Still, Jonathan hadn't tried to touch her since their walk. It was safe to stay with him--for a night or two, anyway.
She couldn't impose on him any longer than that. She wouldn't be here tonight except that she couldn't deal with pacing the floor of some nondescript motel room, wearing a hole in the carpet as she hoped and prayed that Toby would recover fully--for his sake as well as Sam's.
Grabbing a towel as she stepped out, she dried off and donned the pajama bottoms he'd lent her and her own T-shirt. After she'd brushed her teeth and used a blow-dryer, she left the bathroom, expecting to find Jonathan at his computer. He spent a lot of time at the kitchen table, working. But he was lying on the couch with a remote in one hand, watching TV--and wearing a scowl.
"Anything good on?"
His eyes flicked her way, focused pointedly on her braless chest, then moved to her face. "Nothing better than that."
She covered her br**sts with her hands to stop them from tingling.
"I'm sorry. Would you rather I wore something else?"
"If you'd rather I looked somewhere else," he said.
She thought about his response but ultimately shrugged. What she was wearing wasn't particularly revealing. Besides, it seemed a bit pointless to become modest after the fact. He'd already seen her br**sts, touched them, kissed them. "It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."
One eyebrow slid up but he made no further comment. He turned back to the TV and didn't deign to notice her again. Until the program went to a commercial. Then she spoke up, which drew his attention. "Where did Sheridan meet her husband?"
"We're not talking about Sheridan!" he said, his words clipped.
She saw the hard set to his jaw and realized he was angry. She couldn't seem to maneuver them into a place where they could both feel comfortable. Sheridan was the only topic that seemed to diminish, at least to a small degree, the sexual tension between them. There were simply too many erotic memories, too much desire.
Maybe she'd been wrong to think she could stay....
"I should leave," she said, standing.
"That isn't the problem."
"What is the problem?"
He got up and came close, his eyes riveted on hers, and the tingle she'd felt in her br**sts went through her whole body. She told herself not to back away, although her instincts were screaming for her to do just that.
Retreating would only let him know that she was still affected by him.
Slowly, his palm cupped her breast over her shirt, gently teasing her nipple, and his mouth lowered to hers.
His kiss was a slow exploration, achingly sweet. Zoe told herself to pretend indifference, but she was sure he could feel the way her body responded to his touch. "What you do to me. That's the problem," he said and left her standing in the living room.
Chapter 31
Should she go to her bed? Or his?
Several minutes passed as Zoe deliberated.
He was in love with someone else.
But that person was married. Happily married.
She had no business taking this kind of risk. She wasn't herself these days, wasn't in control.
But would it really hurt to be with him while she had the chance?
Wouldn't there be plenty of time to be alone later?
Sitting on the edge of an old green ottoman, she waited for her body to settle down. Hormones must be clouding her judgment because earlier she'd had lots of reasons sleeping with Jonathan again wouldn't be a good idea.
Funny, she couldn't seem to think of any that mattered more than feeling his hands on her.
Maybe it would be okay, now that she was better informed. Maybe it could be casual. People had casual sex every day, didn't they?
Yes, they did. But she didn't. She'd been in a committed relationship with every single boyfriend. This was her first experience with wanting a man who didn't really care about her in return.
She'd just remind herself of that, she decided. During every minute in his bed, she'd silently chant, "He loves Sheridan...he loves Sheridan...he loves Sheridan." Then there'd be no way she could forget.
Jonathan could tell it was different this time. Mechanically everything went even more smoothly than before. Their bodies seemed to be made for each other. But whenever he said something flattering, something that would've made Zoe smile or hold him closer the first night, she'd either pretend she hadn't heard it, or she'd turn her face away as if she refused to believe it.
The only "improvement" was that she trusted him more in a physical sense. The familiarity they'd established made them both comfortable and confident. He loved that in their most recent encounter she was able to abandon herself to the pleasure he wanted to give her without resisting it. At one point, she'd even awakened him for more....
Jonathan?
Hmm?
I want you.
Her hand had slipped down to caress him and some of the most passionate lovemaking he'd ever enjoyed had followed. And yet...when morning arrived, Jonathan was almost more frustrated than he'd been before.