Shay stiffened. “Is that what my mother was, Mitch? The dregs of humanity?”

He cursed under his breath. “I was talking about Roget and you damned well know it. Don’t bait me, Shay, because I’m not in the mood to play your games.”

It was an uncomfortable reminder of the last time Mitch had accused her of playing games and Shay felt defensive. Still, she tried hard to keep her voice level. “Do you really think I want to argue with you, especially now? Especially after—”

“After what, Shay? Two days of reckless passion?” His tone was blade-sharp. Lethal. “That’s our only real way of communicating, isn’t it?” He paused, drew a deep, raspy breath. “I’ll say one thing for us, love—we relate real well on a sexual level.”

Shay was wounded and her voice sounded small and shaky when she spoke. “If you feel that way, why did you ask me to marry you?”

The brown eyes swung to her, scoured her with their anger. “I guess I lost my head,” he said bluntly. Brutally. “Rest easy, sugar plum. I won’t risk it again.”

“Risk—”

“If you want to marry me—and I don’t think you have the guts to make that kind of commitment to any man—you’ll have to do the proposing. Rejection hurts, Shay, and I’m not into pain.”

Shay turned her head, and the tall pine trees along the roadside seemed to whiz past the car window in a blurry rush. The terrible hurt, the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn in Mitch’s attitude, all of it was proof that she’d been wrong to expect consistent, unwavering love from a man. Why hadn’t she learned? She’d watched Rosamond enter into one disastrous relationship after another. She’d nearly been destroyed by a failed marriage herself. Why in God’s name hadn’t she learned?

“Shay?” Mitch’s voice was softer now, even gentle. But it was too late for gentleness.

She let her forehead rest against the cool, moist glass of the window, trying to calm herself. “Leave me alone.”

The sleek car swung suddenly to the side of the road and came to a stomach-wrenching stop. “Shay.”

She shook his hand from her shoulder, keeping her face averted. “Don’t touch me, Mitch. Don’t touch me.”

There was a blunt sound, probably his fist striking the steering wheel or the dashboard, followed by a grating sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I get so frustrated. Everything was so good between us and now it’s all going to hell again and I can’t handle that, Shay.”

“That’s obvious.”

She heard him sigh again, felt a jarring motion as he shifted furiously in the car seat. “Don’t give any ground here, dammit. Whatever you do, don’t meet me halfway!”

Shay could look at Mitch now; in fact, her pain forced her to do that. She sat up very straight in her seat, heedless of her tousled hair and the tears on her cheeks. “I’ve met you more than halfway, Mitch. I came up on this damned mountain with you. I shared your bed. And you turned on me.”