Unfinished Business

me.”
    “No.” He studied her as he struggled to examine his own emotions. “I’m not sure I’d want it to be. If you want promises—”
    “No,” she said quickly. “I don’t want anything I can’t give back.”
    He’d been about to make them, hundreds of them. With an effort, he swallowed them all, reminding himself that he’d always moved too fast when it involved Vanessa. “What can you give back?”
    “I don’t know.” She lifted her hands to his and squeezed before she stepped away. “God, Brady, I feel as though I’m slipping in and out of the looking glass.”
    “This isn’t an illusion, Van.” It was a struggle to keep from reaching for her again. But he knew that what his father had told him was true. When you held too tight, what you wanted most slipped through your fingers. “This is just you and me.”
    She studied him, the eyes so blue against the dark lashes, the damp, untidy hair, the stubborn set of his jaw, the impossibly romantic shape of his mouth. It was so easy to remember why she had loved him. And so easy to be afraid she still did.
    “I won’t pretend I don’t want to be with you. At the same time, I want to run the other way, as fast as I can.” Her sigh was long and shaky. “And hope like hell you catch up with me. I realize my behavior’s been erratic since I’ve come home, and a big part of that is because I never expected to find you here, or to have all these old feelings revived. And that’s part of the problem. I don’t know how much of what I feel for you is just an echo and how much is real.”
    He found himself in the frustrating position of competing with himself. “We’re different people now, Van.”
    “Yes.” She looked at him, her eyes level and almost calm. “When I was sixteen, I would have gone anywhere with you, Brady. I imagined us together forever, a house, a family.”
    “And now?” he said carefully.
    “Now we both know things aren’t that simple, or that easy. We’re different people, Brady, with different lives, different dreams. I had problems before—we both did. I still have them.” She lifted her hands, let them fall. “I’m not sure it’s wise to begin a relationship with you, a physical relationship, until I resolve them.”
    “It’s more than physical, Vanessa. It’s always been more.”
    She nodded, taking a moment to calm a fresh flood of emotion. “All the more reason to take it slowly. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life, with my music. Having an affair will only make it that much more difficult for both of us when I leave.”
    Panic. He tasted it. When she left again, it would break his heart. He wasn’t sure that particular organ would survive a second time. “If you’re asking me to turn off my feelings and walk away, I won’t.” In one swift movement, he pulled her against him again. The hell with what was right. “And neither will you.”
    She felt the thrill race up her spine, those twin sprinters—excitement and alarm. The ghost of the boy she had known and loved was in his eyes, reckless, relentless. She’d never been able to resist him.
    “I’m asking you to let me sort this through.” If he wanted to use anger, then she would match him blow for blow. “The decision’s mine, Brady,” she said, jerking away. “I won’t be pressured or threatened or seduced. Believe me, it’s all been tried before.”
    It was the wrong switch to pull. His eyes, already hot, turned to blue fire. “I’m not one of your smooth, well-mannered lovers, Van. I won’t pressure or threaten or seduce. When the time comes, I’ll just take.”
    Challenged, she tossed her head back. “You won’t take anything I don’t give. No man does. Oh, I’d like to toss those smooth, well-mannered lovers in your face.” She gave him a shove as she walked past him to the stove. “Just to see you squirm. But I’ll do better than that.” She whirled back, hair flying. “I’ll tell you the truth. There haven’t been any lovers. Because I haven’t wanted there to be.” Insolent and mocking, she leaned against the stove. “And if I decide I don’t want you, you’ll just have to join the ranks of the disappointed.”
    No one. There had been no one. Almost before he could absorb it, she was hurling her final insult. He bristled, took a step toward her, then managed to stop himself. If he touched her now, one of them would crawl. He didn’t want it to be him. He stalked to the back door, and had