Page 44 of Whispers

She bit her lip. “When—when do you leave?”

He lifted a shoulder and drew hard on his Camel. “A few weeks.” An arm thrown around his raised knee, he stared to the west. “Sit down,” he said without a smile. “I don’t bite—well, not on a first date.”

“This—this isn’t a date.”

He didn’t comment, but she knew he was silently calling her a liar as he smoked.

“You think I’m afraid of you,” she ventured.

“I think you should be.”

“Why?” Nervous as a frightened colt and just as ready to bolt, she walked to the ledge and sat next to him.

“I’ve got a bad reputation, or so people tell me.” His thoughtful gaze centered on her

mouth and her lungs stopped taking in air. “You don’t, Claire. At least not yet.” He ground his cigarette out in the dirt.

“I don’t think being with you alone this once is going to change that.” Sitting so near to him, Claire told herself she could hold her own, that she wasn’t nervous, that her palms were sweating because the night was sticky and humid, that her heart had a tendency to sometimes beat irregularly when she least expected it.

“You have more faith in me than you should.”

“I don’t think so.”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her with an intensity that heated her blood. A breeze, soft as the night, caressed her face and ruffled his hair. She couldn’t help wonder what it would be like to kiss this hellion, to feel his arms around her, to close her eyes and lose herself in him. But she would never. She loved another boy. “Why did you bring me up here?” Her voice sounded so low and breathy it scared her.

Frowning, not touching her, he studied her face for a long heart-stopping second. “It was a mistake.”

“Why?”

With a sigh, he leaned back on his elbows and cocked his head to look at her. For the first time since she’d met him, his hard-edged mask slipped, his face was raw with an unnamed pain. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

His jaw clamped tight.

She wasn’t about to be shut out. “You started this, Kane,” she reminded him. “You talked me into coming here with you—”

“It didn’t take much persuading, now, did it? I didn’t exactly twist your arm.”

He leaned closer to her, and she swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Admit it, Claire, you wanted to find out just what it is that makes me tick. You’re bored with your predictable and dull life, tired of always doing what’s expected, that’s why you took up with Taggert, to get your old man’s goat. But Harley Taggert doesn’t exactly make your blood pump, does he?”

“Leave Harley out of this.” Her heart knocked crazily against the confines of her ribs.

“Why? Afraid he’ll find out that you think he’s dull?”

“He’s not—” She bit her tongue. Defending Harley wouldn’t change anything. Besides, Kane was twisting her words around, manipulating the course of the conversation. “You brought me up here, Kane, and, without trying to psychoanalyze my reasons for coming, I want to know why.”

He lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

Without thinking, she reached forward, dug her fingers into the leather sleeves of his jacket, and felt his muscles stiffen. Slowly, he glanced at her hands, then let his gaze move deliberately up to her face, where the depth of his eyes made breathing impossible. Perspiration clung to her skin.

“You’re playing with fire, here, Princess,” he warned, his gaze dark with forbidden promise as he inched closer to her.

She licked her lips nervously and he groaned.

“I’m going to regret this in about two minutes,” he said, his face so close to hers she could smell the smoke lingering on his breath, see the doubts clouding his eyes. “But since I’m leaving town anyway, I guess it’s time to own up to the truth.”

She was shaking inside. Afraid of what he might say, desperate to hear it.