It might have been cowardice, he thought, but it was also discretion. He stepped back from her. “Stay away from me.”

“If you don’t want to go to bed with me, you’ve only to say that I don’t appeal to you in that fashion.”

“I’m not thinking about you in that fashion.” He took another step back, right through the little herb bed. “You’re practically my sister.”

She bared her teeth, a sure sign of temper about to snap. “But I’m not your bloody sister, am I?”

The wind caught her hair, sent it streaming so that he wanted to take it in his hands—something he might have done a hundred other times, when it would have been a harmless gesture.

Now he was afraid nothing between them would ever be harmless again.

“No, you’re not. But I’ve thought of you—tried to think of you—that way most of my life. How do you expect me to just flip that about and . . . I can’t do it,” he said quickly when his blood began to stir again. “It’s just not right.”

“You don’t want to have sex with me, that’s your business.” She nodded coolly. “Others do.” With this she turned on her heel and started to march toward home.

“Wait a damn minute.” He could move fast when he needed to, and he had her arm before she’d taken three full strides. He whirled her around and took as firm a hold on her other arm. “If you think I’m going to let you walk off with that in your head, you’re badly mistaken. I’m not about to have you go off and throw yourself at some man because you’re mad at me.”

The flash in her eyes should have been a warning, but her voice was so calm, so cool, he missed it. “You think far too much of yourself, Shawn Gallagher. If I want to be with a man, with him I’ll be. You’ve nothing to say about it. It may come as a shock to you, but I’ve had sex before, and I like it. I’ll have it again when I please.”

She might as well have plowed the business end of a sledgehammer into his gut. “You—who . . .”

“That’s a matter of my concern,” she interrupted with a smug look in her eye. “And none of yours. Now let go of me. I’ve nothing more to say to you.”

“Well, I’ve plenty more to say to you.” But he couldn’t think of a thing, not with images of Brenna wrapped around some faceless man burning into his brain.

She tossed back her head, and her eyes burned once more into his. “Do you want to have sex with me or not?”

Truth or lie? He was suddenly certain that either answer would send him straight to hell. But he thought the lie safer. “No.”

“Then that’s the end of it.” Humiliated, furious, she shoved away. Then—perhaps it was pride, or perhaps it was just need, but she acted before she thought.