“I...I really don’t want to get hurt,” she added, heart in her eyes.
That hit him in the gut hard. “I don’t want to hurt you.” The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt pretty, sweet Josie, the only person he knew who could even make him think of smiling right now when his career was crumbling around him.
“I know.” She swallowed, her jaw twitching. “But I want more than you can give me.”
He knew what she was asking. He wanted to answer. But the words hung in the air between them and the silence grew, and deep inside where it ached he wanted to tell her that he’d give her anything. That he’d try this time, that he’d do whatever she wanted, and that they could walk that big humongous step past just sex into something deeper together.
But he couldn’t do that. Because he didn’t know how to let go, how to trust her not to spit on his words, how to give up control over himself and his life to someone else.
Everything else in his future was so uncertain, he couldn’t risk that, too. “I can only give you one day at a time.”
She nodded, but a little sigh managed to escape her lips. “I know.”
The selfish part of him wanted Josie to say it didn’t matter, one night at a time was enough for her, that the affair she’d suggested was what she wanted.
But she didn’t, and he felt like a total bastard. He kept saying he wouldn’t hurt her, but every time he spoke to her he did just that, depositing a little drop of hurt that was rapidly filling up into a bucketful of pain. She gave and he took, and he had nothing to give back to her but sex.
He was the one to look away as a sharp pain in his leg reminded him that he’d been standing too long. “Let me get you a dry shirt.”
Her fingers brushed across the damp front of her tank top. “Oh, thanks, but I’m fine. You should sit down.” Her soft fluttering hands came towards him, reaching for his head. “Is all the shampoo out of your hair? I can get it with a washcloth if it’s not.”
Anger surged through him. Why couldn’t she just accept that he was a prick and leave him alone? Why did she have to care about him? No other woman he knew would give a rat’s ass if the shampoo were out of his hair, but Josie did—and damn, she made it so hard to keep shoving her away.
“I’m fine. I’ll be right back with a shirt for you.” He turned sideways to move past her in the doorway, not wanting to touch her.
“I can get it,” she said, placing her hand on his chest to stop him. “Just tell me where to find a T-shirt.”
“I said I’ll get it,” he snapped at her. And confirmed to himself that he wasn’t good enough for her.
She deserved someone who wasn’t his father’s son.
Josie blinked and watched Houston head down the hall to his bedroom, leg stiff as he fought a limp. Uncertain whathad just happened, she tried to tell herself that he didn’t want her help, that she had infringed on his independence. But it wasn’t anything more serious than that.
Because if it was, she didn’t know how to fix it.
Shivering in the air conditioning, her wet shirt clinging to her chest, she waited for Houston. And waited. Then wondered if he’d fallen down and was stuck on his bedroom floor like a tipped turtle, unwilling to ask for help.
Either that or he wanted her to take a hint and leave.
Or he’d fallen asleep.
Or was hurt and bleeding and dying of something that her medical brain told her didn’t exist but her heart was sure could be an actual possibility.
After another minute she went down the hall to his room and stopped short in the door. Oh, dear God. He was trying to take his damp underwear off.
Only the sticking wet cotton, the elastic waistband, and the use of only one hand had caused him a bit of a problem. The underwear had been rolled halfway down and now appeared to be stuck. Right across the middle of his very tight, very nice backside.
He must have heard her excited breathing. He glanced over his shoulder and cursed in a low, rude voice.
“Sorry,” she said, her face hotter than hell’s kitchen. “I wanted to see if you needed help, I didn’t realize...”
That she’d get a free show.
“You want to help?” he said in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air, the stark white bandage of the one startling against his tanned chest. “Fine. I’d love some help right now.”
“What?” He wanted her to take hisunderwearoff? Was he serious? She couldn’t possibly touch his butt without her body getting ideas.
And he hadn’t even turned around to face her yet. Who knew what she’d find onthatside. Mercy.