Forced to the Altar

Julianne didn’t know whether she would’ve preferred Jamey have told Zach about her past. Saying it out loud sounded harsh, even though she’d been innocent herself—at least of committing a crime.

“I’d be interested in knowing,” he said, “whenever you’d like to talk about it.”

“There’s a lot I’d be interested in knowing about you, too.” She wanted the conversation to end, so she smiled benignly at him. “We could trade, fact for fact.”

“So you’re a deal maker.”

“I’m bored. And I’m curious.”

“It’s for your sake, not mine, that I can’t share what I do. Trust me. It’s better this way.”

“You know, I’ve heard that ‘trust me’ thing most of my life. That other people know what’s best for me,” she said, annoyed. “I decided not to take it at face value anymore. People earn trust. And I do know what’s best for myself.”

“Fair enough.”

That let the wind out of her sails. She’d wanted a little debate, some emotion, something energizing. He’d stopped the potential for any of that.

“You could’ve argued the point just a little,” she muttered.

“I know.”

Irritated, she gave him a little shove, but smiled at him. He didn’t smile. He simply looked at her, his gaze intense and heated. Had she crossed a line, touching him? Some boss/assistant, protector/protectee demarcation visible only in his mind?

Or was it desire? Had her touch done that?

She was tired of the games men played. Part of her plan—no, her ultimate dream—had been to find a man who was open and direct and trustworthy, something she’d never really known and desperately wanted. Zach was about as closed and indirect as they came, although probably trustworthy. She didn’t think Jamey would’ve sent her to someone he didn’t truly trust.

Still, there was a difference between trusting a person as a person, and a man as a man, one half of a relationship, no matter how fascinating that man was. Some day she hoped she would get to appreciate the difference.

“I would say I should get back to work, but…” She let the sentence drift. “Do you have a library or something?”

“What do you like to read?”

“To be honest, I like magazines.” She remembered she was going to research the artist on the Internet. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just check my e-mail.”

She pushed away from the Jeep. He didn’t stop her. “Will you be joining me for dinner?”

“Probably.”

“Okay.” She felt his gaze on her as she walked away. His silent intensity flattered and aroused her. She wondered how much her hips swayed. Had she changed her stride, wanting to attract him? Probably. Anticipation and need skirmished within her, slowing her down. It felt good. Too good. Freeing.