Midnight Bayou

waiting for the first lash of anger to pass. “You know, that’s insulting. If you’re worried about your pay-for-work ethic, I can spare about twenty minutes now. We can go up, have sex, even the score. Otherwise, I’ve got a lot to do.”
    “I didn’t mean to insult you.” But she saw, quiteclearly, she had. “I just don’t understand you. The men I’ve known, on an intimate level, would have been irritated by what didn’t happen between us this morning. I expected you to be, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. I would’ve understood that.”
    “It’s harder for you to understand that I could care about you enough to put sex on the back burner so you could get a few hours’ sleep?”
    “Yes.”
    “Maybe that’s not insulting. Maybe that’s just sad.” He saw the color deepen in her cheeks as the words hit her. Embarrassed color, he realized. “Everything doesn’t boil down to sex for me. It helps things percolate, but it’s not all that’s in the pot.”
    “I like knowing where I stand. If you don’t know where you stand, you can’t decide if that’s where you want to be, or which direction you’d like to go from there.”
    “And I’m fucking up your compass.”
    “You could say that.”
    “Good. I’m a pretty agreeable guy, Lena, but I’m not going to be lumped in with others you’ve dealt with. In fact, you won’t deal with me at all. We’ll deal with each other.”
    “Because that’s the way you want it.”
    “Because that’s the way it is.” His tone was flat, final. “Nothing between us is like, or going to be like, anything either of us has had before. You may need some time to get used to that.”
    “Is this how you get your way?” she demanded. “By listing off the rules in that annoyingly reasonable tone?”
    “Facts, not rules,” he corrected in what he imagined she would consider that annoyingly reasonable tone. “And it’s only annoying because you’d be more confident having a fight. We’ve already eaten into the twenty minutes we could’ve earmarked for sex. Good sex, or a goodfight, take time. I’m going to have to take a rain check on both.”
    She stared at him, tried to formulate any number of withering remarks. Then just gave up and laughed. “Well, when you cash in your rain checks, let’s do the fight first. Then we can have make-up sex. That’s like a bonus.”
    “Works for me. Do you have to get right back, or have you got a few minutes? I could use a hand hauling in and unrolling the rug I’ve got for in here. I was going to snag one of the counter guys, but with what I’m paying them, I’d as soon they stick with the counters.”
    “Pinching pennies now? And you with all those big tubs of money.”
    “You don’t keep big tubs of money if you let yourself get hosed. Besides, this way I’d get to keep you here and look at you a little while longer.”
    “That’s clever.” And the fact was, she wanted to stay, wanted to be with him. “All right, I’ll help you with your rug before I go. Where is it?”
    “Next parlor.” He gestured to the connecting doors. “I’ve got most of what I’ve bought so far stuffed in here. I’m working in the library next, so I can clean out what goes in the front parlor and in there before I start on this one.”
    Lena moved to the pocket doors he opened, then just goggled. Aladdin’s cave, she thought, outfitted by a very rich madman with very eclectic taste. Tables, sofas, carpets, lamps, and what her grandmother would call doodads were spread everywhere.
    “God Almighty, Declan, when did you get all this?”
    “A little here, a little there. I tell myself no, but I don’t listen. Anyway”—he began to pick his way through the narrow aisles his purchases formed—“it’s a big house. It needs lots of . . . stuff. I thought about sticking with the era when the house was originally built. Then I decided I’d get bored. I like to mix things up.”
    She spotted a brass hippo on what she tagged as a Hepplewhite side table. “Mission accomplished.”
    “Look at this lamp.” He ran his fingers over the shade of a Tiffany that exploded with gem colors. “I’ve got a weakness for lamps.”
    “ Cher , looking ’round here, I’d say you’ve got a weakness for every damn thing.”
    “I sure have one for you. Here’s the rug.” He patted the long, rolled carpet leaning against the wall. “I think we can drag it, snake it through. I should’ve put it closer to the door, but I