Why was she always reminding him of that? He wasn't interested in her. He'd told her as much, and he'd meant it. Sure, there were moments when he was tempted to take on the challenge she posed, to prove she wasn't as aloof as she pretended. But those thoughts usually centered on getting her naked, and he knew that wasn't an honorable goal.
"I don't see any reason we can't be friends," he said.
"I'm not in the market."
"I said friends. "
"I know." Turning her menu so he could see the front, she pointed to a picture of an egg scramble. "Have you ever had this? It looks good."
He ignored her question. He'd never had a woman--anyone, really--
refuse his friendship. "Why don't you want to be friends with me?"
She was once again shielded by her menu. "Because you have too many friends as it is."
Taken aback, he pushed her menu down so he could see her face.
"What makes you think that?"
"I can tell."
"Simply because I happen to know the hostess?"
The menu went back up. "It's just how you are."
He forced it down again. "I don't collect friends. I like a lot of people.
There's a difference."
"If you say so."
"I say so. And there's nothing wrong with that." Although her accusation echoed something his mother had said before the mess with Kalyna--that he didn't seem to have strong feelings about any of the women he dated. She'd said he was too affable, too easygoing, always somewhere in the middle, and she was right on-target. Only Marissa had penetrated to the heart of him, and she'd married his best friend.
"I can't argue," she said with a shrug.
"Then why did you say it?" he asked.
"I'd rather be one in a mil ion to someone, that's all."
Now she was pissing him off. "Are you one in a mil ion to Geoffrey?"
She took a sip of water. "I don't want to talk about Geoffrey, either."
"Of course not. You're not even sleeping with him. How much can he mean to you?"
"Maybe I'm just more selective than you are."
"If you're suggesting I sleep around, I don't. I made a mistake that night with Kalyna, I'l give you that. And I'm paying the price. But don't assume that's normal behavior for me, because it's not."
She raised one hand. "That's your personal business. You don't have to explain your habits."
The fact that she didn't seem to care bothered him. "And for the record, you're not being selective, Ava. You're hiding behind your work.
You won't let anyone really get to know you. And you want me to tell you why?"
"No."
He told her, anyway--and leaned halfway across the table to do it.
"Because you're scared."
"Can we decide on breakfast?"
"You don't have anything to say about that?" he asked.
"I'm not scared. What would I be scared of? You?"
"Maybe."
She finally set her menu aside. "It's not fear, Luke. I'm not stupid enough to fall for someone who's prettier than I am, that's all. Especially someone who can't fall as hard as I can."
He gaped at her. He could've argued about the pretty part, but she was right about the rest. He couldn't fall as hard as she could. He was afraid he couldn't fall, period. No matter whom he dated--no matter how attractive, nice, intelligent--he couldn't seem to feel that all-consuming passion his father felt for his mother. Not since high school.
"You don't know that," he said, but it was a feeble response and she suddenly seemed ashamed, as if she realized she'd struck a nerve.
With a sigh, she removed her sunglasses. "She used antifreeze, okay?"
"What?"
"My mother. She tried to poison Pete with antifreeze. She put it in a diet drink she concocted to help him lose weight."
This was her apology for being upset and taking it out on him. He knew that. He also knew he should let her off the hook by telling her she didn't need to talk about it. But she wouldn't share what had happened with just anyone. If she'd trusted him with the details of this, they were friends, even if she denied it, which put him back on more familiar--and comfortable--ground. "How long ago?"
"Five years."
"How was it discovered?"
"By chance, really. He got so sick he drove himself to the hospital while my mother was at work. The doctor who treated him had seen this kind of poisoning before. When my mother showed up and kept asking if Pete would survive, he found it odd and decided to run the tests. The toxicology report showed proof of ethylene glycol, and she was the only one who could've administered it."
"Wouldn't he have tasted it?"
"It's clear and odorless and tastes sweet. At least it used to, until the manufacturers changed it. She put it in his diet drinks, and he thought that was just the way they tasted. Then it came out that she'd recently purchased another life-insurance policy in his name--with herself as the sole beneficiary--and that was all it took."
"How'd you find out about the poisoning?"
"I received a call at work. I didn't have the money to continue my education the way I'd originally planned, so I'd gotten a job at Bank of America as a teller."
" She called to confess or--"
"No, it was my father. My real father. When they arrested her, she didn't reach out to me. She turned to him." She frowned. " That should've told me something."
A wave of sympathy caused Luke to lower his voice. "The whole thing must've come as a terrible shock."
She flinched despite an apparent effort to conceal the depth of her hurt. "I refused to believe it until I heard what she yel ed out in court as they took her away."
"What?"
"'He owed me that money!' The guilty verdict had already been read, but it was that line that convicted her in my mind. Until that moment, I'd stood by her regardless of the evidence."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be. I'm fine now. I'm past it."
She wasn't even close, but he let that go. "Why'd she do it?"
"I don't know exactly." She shook her head. "She was miserable. I don't think she ever got over my father. She had a hard time seeing him move on to one woman after another without giving her a thought. So she finally quit waiting for him to realize he'd lost the love of his life and married again. And, well...you met Pete. It was a disaster." She toyed with her sunglasses. "My father had fidelity issues and he was shallow, but he was also dashing, debonair and full of life. Pete is a slug. He gave her nothing emotionally or financially. He claimed he had an injured back and couldn't work, so he sat in front of the TV all day while she worked at the neighborhood elementary school, in the cafeteria, and sold Tupperware on the side. They got behind on their bil s, argued constantly. Then she began cleaning houses on weekends. He claimed he had a settlement coming for a worker's comp injury, but that never materialized. She was really counting on the money and when she found out he'd been lying all along just to avoid work, she decided he'd pay up one way or another. His life insurance was how she'd get a fresh start and--" she winced again "--help me afford school so I could finish."