Slow Hands

said, “Oh, I just remembered, we left your truck…”
    “It’s not a problem. I’ll hail a cab to take me over to the lot.” He wondered for a second if she’d tell him not to bother.
    She didn’t.
    Okay. Interlude definitely over. Time to get out, let her get her head together and start planning for next time.
    “When can I see you again?”
    She clenched the robe tighter. “Again?”
    “Never heard of a second date?”
    “Ours wasn’t exactly a typical first one for me.”
    He couldn’t prevent a confident smile. “I sure hope not.”
    Maddy’s chin went up. “Was it for you? ”
    He didn’t even hesitate. “Not a chance. Last night was…well, something I never expected. But it’s something I’m very thankful for.” Glancing at the clock, he muttered a curse and hunted around on the floor for his clothes. “I really do have to go, though. There are people counting on me.”
    He found his things and began to dress, finally looking back at her, to see her frozen in the same spot, her face pale, her eyes narrowed, as if she’d been glaring at him behind his back. “Are you mad about something?” he asked, dropping his jeans and stepping closer.
    “No. Don’t be silly. The sun’s a little blinding, that’s all.” She cleared her throat. “Go on, finish dressing, we’ve both got places to be.”
    Something was seriously wrong. And if he hadn’t already played on his lieutenant’s mercy to get a schedule change yesterday to attend the game, he’d seriously consider trying to find someone to cover for him. As it was, he didn’t have that option. Ninety minutes left. Damn.
    He stepped into the jeans, yanking them up. “Let’s get together…day after tomorrow?”
    “You’re busy until then, I assume?” Talk about icy-toned.
    “Yeah. Booked solid for the next forty-eight hours.” He had a twenty-four-hour shift, then a twelve, with on-call time in between. The last thing he wanted was to get busy doing something incredible with this woman and get called out, having to leave her high and dry. And him high and hard .
    “I see.”
    “I’ll take you to dinner.” Suddenly remembering what had happened at the pub, Jake reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Speaking of which, I need to pay you back for last night. Some gentleman I am.”
    She waved an airy hand. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “I’m not some macho he-man, okay?” he said, “But you shelled out twenty-five thousand dollars and the least I can do is cover some wings and beer.”
    Maddy’s smile was tight and it did not soften her beautiful brown eyes one bit. “That wasn’t the least you could do. You did a whole lot more than that last night for my twenty-five thousand dollars. So let’s call it even.”
    It took him a second to catch her meaning, and when he did, Jake couldn’t stop a half-amused, half-annoyed grunt. “Uh, it’s flattering that you think I might be worth it, but you didn’t pay me all that money so I’d spend last night in your bed.”
    “No, I paid a charity.”
    For a night in bed with him . She didn’t say it. The implication was clear.
    He chalked up her belligerence to her own uncertainty and didn’t call her on the fact that she’d just backhandedly called him a male prostitute. “You’re being ridiculous.”
    “Why did you spend last night in my bed?”
    Yeesh, the woman had some seriously selective memory. Good thing he suspected she was worth this much effort. “Because, as I already told you, I wanted you. Period. End of story.” And I still do .
    “Okay.” Nodding and lifting her chin, she admitted, “I wanted you, too. But now that’s over, and I really think we should quit while we’re ahead.”
    His jaw dropped. “What?”
    “Last night was lovely, Jake. But I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again.”
    He had had enough of giving Maddy her space. Walking the few feet it took to get to her, he took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “What the hell is wrong?”
    She jerked away. “Nothing’s wrong. I just can’t deal with this. With the…difficulties of this situation. So we need to end it here and now.” Finally uncrossing her arms, she ran a weary hand over her eyes. “I can’t imagine seeing you under… professional circumstances.”
    “Well, Jesus, I hope not. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
    “Thank you,” she murmured. Then she stiffened again. “But I can’t see you personally, either.