Mind Over Matter

the matchbook. “Are you expecting any particular crisis today?”
    He turned then to look at her, standing barefoot and a bit hollow-eyed in his robe. It didn’t dwarf her; she was only inches shorter than he. Still, somehow it made her appear more feminine, more…accessible, he decided, than anything else he remembered. It wouldn’t be possible to tell her that it had just occurred to him that he was already in the middle of a crisis. Its name was Aurora J. Fields. “You know…” He tucked his hands in the back pockets of well-broken-in jeans before he took a step closer. “We didn’t spend too much time talking last night.”
    “No.” She braced herself. “It didn’t seem that conversation was what either of us wanted.” Nor was it conversation she’d prepared herself to deal with. “I’m going to go up and change. I do have to be in the office early.”
    “Aurora.” He didn’t reach out to stop her this time. He only had to speak. “What did you feel that first day with me in your office?”
    After letting out a long breath, she faced him again. “David, I talked about that part of my life more than I cared to last night.”
    He knew that was true. He’d spent some time wondering why without finding any answers. She had them. If he had to probe and prod until she gave them up, he would. “You talked about it in connection with other people, other things. This happens to involve me.”
    “I’m going to be late for work,” she murmured, and started up the landing.
    “You make a habit of running away, Aurora.”
    “I’m not running.” She whirled back, both hands clenchedinto fists in the pockets. “I simply don’t see any reason to drag this all up again. It’s personal. It’s mine.”
    “And it touches me,” he added calmly. “You walked into my bedroom last night and said you’d dreamed it. Had you?”
    “I don’t—” She wanted to deny it, but she had never been comfortable with direct lies. The fact that she couldn’t use one had anger bubbling through. “Yes. Dreams aren’t as easily controlled as conscious thought.”
    “Tell me what you dreamed.”
    She wouldn’t give him all. A.J.’s nails dug into her palms. She’d be damned if she’d give him all. “I dreamed about your room. I could have described it for you before I’d ever gone in. Would you like to put me under a microscope now or later?”
    “Self-pity isn’t attractive.” As her breath hissed out he stepped onto the landing with her. “You knew we were going to be lovers.”
    Her expression became cool, almost disinterested. “Yes.”
    “And you knew that day in your office when you were angry with me, frustrated with your mother, and our hands met, like this.” He reached out, uncurled her fist and pressed their hands palm to palm.
    Her back was against the wall, her hand caught in his. She was tired, spitting tired, of finding herself in corners. “What are you trying to prove, a theory for your documentary?”
    What would she say if he told her he’d come to understand she showed her fangs only where she was most vulnerable? “You knew,” he repeated, letting the venom spill off of him. “And it frightened you. Why was that?”
    “I’d just had a strong, physical premonition that I was going to be the lover of a man I’d already decided was detestable. Is that reason enough?”
    “For annoyance, even anger. Not for fear. You were afraidthat night in the back of the limo, and again last night when you walked into the bedroom.”
    She tried to jerk her arm aside. “You’re exaggerating.”
    “Am I?” He stepped closer and touched a hand to her cheek. “You’re afraid now.”
    “That’s not true.” Deliberately she unclenched her other hand. “I’m annoyed because you’re pressing me. We’re adults who spent the night together. That doesn’t give you the right to pry into my personal life or feelings.”
    No, it didn’t. That was his own primary rule and he was breaking it. Somehow he’d forgotten that he had no rights, could expect none. “All right, that’s true. But I saw the condition you were in yesterday afternoon after walking into that room.”
    “That’s done,” she said quickly, maybe too quickly. “There’s no need to get into it again.”
    Though he was far from convinced, he let it ride. “And I listened to you last night. I don’t want to be responsible for anything like that happening to you again.”
    “You’re not responsible—I am.”