“She had her hand on you.”

“I didn’t have mine on her, did I?”

“That’s not the—” Damn it. Brenna folded her arms, unfolded them and jammed her hands in her pockets. She’d wanted to shred the skin off the blonde’s face. Still did, she admitted, if it came to that. It wasn’t in character at all. Not that she’d back down from a fight, but she wasn’t one to start a brawl. And surely not over a man.

“You were smiling at her.”

“I’ll be sure not to smile at anyone unless you approve it first.”

“It looked overly cozy.” Her hand was still balled in her pocket. If she hadn’t felt so foolish, she might have given in to the urge to pop him with it. “I’ll apologize if I misunderstood.”

“Fine.” Leaving it at that, he walked over to push open the door and call out his good nights. When he turned back, she looked so frustrated and unhappy he nearly relented. But a man had to finish what he started. He spoke coolly, with just enough bite to let her know she had more making up to do. “Would you prefer staying over with Darcy?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t.”

“All right, then.” He crossed to the back door, opened it, waited. She got her cap and jacket from the hook by the door, then bundled them under her arm and stepped out into the chill.

They didn’t speak as they got into opposite sides of his car. She brooded out the window while he drove out of the village and up the road toward the cottage.

She told herself she’d had a perfectly normal reaction. And shifting in her seat, she told him the same. When he didn’t answer, she had to struggle not to squirm. “Can we agree this is new territory for both of us?”

Ah, he thought, just the direction he’d hoped for. He sent her one quiet look, then nodded.

“And we never, I suppose you could say, discussed the boundaries of it.”

“You wanted sex. You’re getting it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her flinch. Perfect.

“That’s true. That’s true,” she repeated in a mutter when he pulled up to his cottage. She was starting to feel a little sick to her stomach. “But I . . . it’s only that I—” She cursed and had to scramble out of the car to keep up with him. “Damn it, you can at least hear me out.”

“I’m listening to you. Do you want tea?” he asked, viciously polite as he walked inside.

“No, I don’t want tea. And take that stick out of your arse for one bloody minute. If you don’t have the sense to see that woman wanted to jump you, you’re blind as six bats and twice as dim.”

“More to the point would be what I wanted—and intended.” He started up the steps.

“She’s beautiful.”

“So are you. What does that have to do with it?”