“It seems we have little to say to each other.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

She lay stiff and still. “I’m not asking you to.”

“The hell you aren’t.” Angry, he sat up, drawing her with him so that the cover dropped away. Her skin was pale, her hair like a flood of night over her shoulders. Despite a strong will and a keen sense of privacy, he felt compelled to clarify. “Joyce’s been like my sister. When she married Stan, I gave her away. I’m godfather to her oldest girl. It might be difficult for you to understand that kind of friendship.”

It wasn’t. It had been like that between herself and Jerry. The friendship had gradually deteriorated during marriage, because the marriage had been a mistake. “No, I understand it,” Maggie said quietly. “I don’t understand why you seem so concerned about her.”

“That’s my business.”

“It certainly is.”

He swore again. “Look, Joyce has been going through a difficult time. She never wanted to stay in Morganville. When she was a kid, she’d had ideas about going to the city and studying to be an actress.”

“She wanted to act?”

“Pipe dreams, maybe.” Cliff moved his shoulders. “Maybe not. She let them go when she married Stan, but she’s never been happy staying in Morganville. One of the reasons she sold the house was so they’d have enough money to move. Stan won’t budge.”

“They could compromise.”

“Stan doesn’t understand how important it is to her to get away from here. She was eighteen when she married. Then she had three children over the next five years. She spent the first part of her life following her father’s rules, the second caring for her children and her mother. A woman like you wouldn’t understand that.”

“I’m sick of that!” Maggie exploded, jerking away from him. “I’m sick to death of you putting me in some category. Pampered celebrity with no conception of how real people feel or live.” Anger rocketed through her, so quick and powerful she never thought to repress it. “What kind of man are you, going to bed with a woman you haven’t an ounce of respect for?”

Stunned by the sudden, passionate outburst, he watched her spring from the bed. “Wait a minute.”

“No, I’ve made enough mistakes for one evening.” She began to search for her clothes among those scattered on the floor. “You had your dinner and your sex,” she said in a brittle tone. “Now get out.”

Fury rose so that he had to fight it back. She was right, Cliff told himself. He’d come to take her to bed; that was all. Intimacy didn’t always equal closeness. He wasn’t interested in being close to her or in becoming involved with anything more than her body. Even as he thought it, the emptiness of it washed over him. The contentment he’d felt so briefly vanished. He could hear her unsteady breathing as she pulled on her sweater. Reaching for his clothes, he tried to concentrate on the sound of the rain instead.