Page 43 of Stripping Bare

“I got it,” Jonah said, but she beat him to it and slid off herstool.

Fruit in hand, she was straightening from her crouch when Jonah swiveled on his stool and she came face to face with the zipper on hisjeans.

The distended zipper on hisjeans.

He either really liked her cooking or he’d gotten hard from looking at her thigh andbreast.

She couldn’t help herself. She stayed there in a strange crouch staring at Jonah’s crotch until he drawled, “Wanna give me that fruit? A few more seconds and you’re gonna have asmoothie.”

His words shocked her out of her fascination with his erection, and she felt pulp and juice squishing through her fingers. “I need sex,Jonah.”

Silence.

“Withyou.”

Moresilence.

Extended silence. And he’d suddenly become fascinated with the one piece of ham left on hisplate.

Damned man. To keep from either kissing or choking him, she reached for a napkin to clean the fruit from her fingers. Shaking with anger and need and a sliver of embarrassment, she marched around the bar, swiped the mess into the trash, and cranked on the faucet to wash herhands.

When she turned, Jonah was standing there, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. His hands rose and fell. “I don’t know what to do with you,Tessa.”

She could give him a list, starting with a long, hard kiss and possibly ending with him lifting her to the countertop and screwing her blind. Why couldn’t he see what was between them? Whatcouldbe betweenthem?

“Why do you always turn away from me?” she asked, waving a vague hand near his hip. “Because unless your reaction really was to the omelet and not me, then I don’t know what I’m doingwrong.”

“You’re not doing anythingwrong.”

“Based on our history, I’ve been making the assumption that youareattracted to me. Did I miss a turn somewhere? Am I just imaginingit?”

“No.”

“Then why do you avoid touching me? The times you have, you’ve been ashamed and beaten yourself up afterward, haven’tyou?”

“Can we drop this? We need to focus on your break-in and the hackingincident.”

“Is helping me something you feel like you have to do? Because if you can’t look at me without that strange combination of guilt and need, I’m not sure this is smart. You’re obviously uncomfortable with any role you play in my life—lifesaver, reluctant friend, even more reluctant lover. And I am tired of wanting a man who won’t allow himself to want meback.”

He squeezed his eyes closed. “I keep my hands off youbecause…”

“Because when you look at me, you see her, the helpless Tessa, don’tyou?”

Jonah’s phone rang, and he grappled for it like a drowning man might reach for a life preserver. “Hello…yeah, this is a fine time. C’monover.”

When he hung up, Tessa touched his arm, a light stroke of fingertips. “Jonah, talk tome.”

“We can’t do this right now.” He removed her hand from his arm and pressed it against her side. “Not when someone is threateningyou.”

“Then we’re done here. Take me into town to pick up mycar.”

“Not happening,” he said. “Maggie is on her way so we can talk about that son of a bitch who painted on yourwall.”