“And?” Flustered and furious, he glared at her. “And it’s not right.”

She only lifted a shoulder in dismissal, then turned to open the truck door.

“It’s not right,” he repeated, grabbing her again and turning her to face him. “I’m not having it.”

“So you said, in clear terms.”

“I don’t mean that.”

“Oh, well, if you’ve decided you’d like to have sex with me after all, I’ve changed my mind.”

“I haven’t decided—” He broke off, staggered. “Changed your mind?”

“I have. Kissing you wasn’t altogether what I thought it would be. So you were right and I was wrong.” She gave him a deliberately insulting pat on the cheek. “And that’s the end of it.”

“The hell it is.” He trapped her against the truck, quickly and firmly enough to have both excitement and annoyance rising inside her. “If I want you, I’ll have you, and that’s the end of it. Meanwhile, I want you to behave yourself.”

She couldn’t speak. She was certain that if she tried she would strangle on the words. So she did the only thing she could think of. She plowed her bunched fist into his gut.

It cost him some breath, and the color that temper had brought to his face drained completely. But he held his ground. The fact that he did, that he could, when she knew she had a solid punch, sent another trickle of excitement sliding through her.

“We’ll talk about this, Brenna, in private.”

“That’s fine. I’ve plenty to say.”

Satisfied that he’d made his point, he stepped back. “You can come by the cottage in the morning.”

Seething, she climbed into the truck, slammed the door. “I could,” she told him as she started the engine, “but I won’t. I came to you once, and you spurned me. I won’t be back.”

He stepped back again, to save his toes from being run over. If she wouldn’t come to him, he thought as she drove away, he’d find another way to get her alone so they could . . . come to terms, he supposed it was.

In private.

SEVEN

A BODY WOULD think the woman had never jumped into his arms and kissed him senseless. A man could start believing himself delusional and that she’d never sat across from him at his own kitchen table and suggested they have a romp in bed.

But she had done both of those things. He knew it because every time he came within a foot of her the muscles in his belly knotted.

Shawn didn’t care for it, not a bit. No more than he cared for how easy and bloody normal she was acting as they fell into the Saturday night routine at the pub. Every time he came out of the kitchen for one reason or another, she’d shoot him that look of hers that was caught somewhere between a sneer and a smile.

It made him wonder why he’d ever enjoyed seeing that selfsame expression on her face in the past.