Summer Love - Page 57

She’d cried out. He’d heard the shock and pain in her voice. And he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Yes, he needed a drink. “It mattered,” he tossed back as he rose and strode into the other room.

Alone, she let out a shuddering breath. Of course it mattered. Only a fool would have thought otherwise. He’d thought he was dealing with an experienced, emotionally mature woman who knew how to play the game. Words likeloveandneedandwantwere interchangeable. Yes, he’d said he loved her, but to many love was physical and physical only.

She’d made a fool of herself and she’d infuriated him, and all because she’d begun a relationship built on illusions.

She’d knowingly taken the risk, Rebecca reminded herself as she climbed out of bed. Now she’d pay the price.

He was calmer when he started back to the bedroom. Calmer, though anger still bubbled inside him. First he would show her how it should have been, how it could be. Then they had to talk, rationally, coherently.

“Rebecca…” But when he looked at the bed it was empty.

She was wrapped in a robe and was hurling clothing into her suitcase when she heard him knock. With a shake of her head, she rubbed the tears from her cheeks and continued her frenzied packing. She wouldn’t answer…. She wouldn’t answer and be humiliated again.

“Rebecca.” The moment of calm he’d achieved had vanished. Swearing through gritted teeth, he pounded on the door. “Rebecca, this is ridiculous. Open this door.”

Ignoring him, she swept bottles and tubes of toiletries off the bureau and into her bag. He’d go away, she told herself, hardly aware that she’d begun to sob. He’d go away and then she’d leave, take a cab to the airport and catch the first plane to anywhere.

The sound of splintering wood had her rushing into the parlor in time to see the door give way.

She’d thought she’d seen fury before, but she’d been wrong. She saw it now as she stared into Stephen’s face. Speechless, she looked from him to the broken door and back again.

Elana, tying the belt of her robe, rushed down the hall. “Stephen, what’s happened? Is there a—”

He turned on her, hurling one short sentence in clipped Greek at her. Her eyes widened and she backed away, sending Rebecca a look that combined sympathy and envy.

“Do you think you have only to walk away from me?” He pushed the door back until it scraped against the battered jamb.

“I want—” Rebecca lifted a hand to her throat as if to push the words out. “I want to be alone.”

“The hell with what you want.” He started toward her, only to stop dead when she cringed and turned away. He’d forgotten what it was like to hurt, truly hurt, until that moment. “I asked you once if you were afraid of me. Now I see that you are.” Searching for control, he dipped his hands into the pockets of the slacks he’d thrown on. She looked defenseless, terrified, and tears still streaked her cheeks. “I won’t hurt you again. Will you sit?” When she shook her head, he bit off an oath. “I will.”

“I know you’re angry with me,” she began when he’d settled into a chair. “I’ll apologize if it’ll do any good, but I do want to be alone.”

His eyes had narrowed and focused. “You’ll apologize? For what?”

“For…” What did he expect her to say? Humiliated, she crossed her arms and hugged her elbows. “For what happened… for not… explaining,” she finished lamely. “For whatever you like,” she continued as the tears started again. “Just leave me alone.”

“Sweet God.” He rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I can think of nothing in my life I’ve handled as badly as this.” He rose, but stopped again when she automatically retreated. “You don’t want me to touch you.” His voice had roughened. He had to swallow to clear his throat. “I won’t, but I hope you’ll listen.”

“There’s nothing more to say. I understand how you feel and why you feel it. I’d rather we just left it at that.”

“I treated you inexcusably.”

“I don’t want an apology.”

“Rebecca—”

“I don’t.” Her voice rose, stopping his words, stopping her tears. “It’s my fault. It’s been my fault all along. No, no, no!” she shouted when he took another step. “I don’t want you to touch me. I couldn’t bear it.”

He sucked in his breath, then let it out slowly. “You twist the knife well.”

But she was shaking her head and pacing the room now. “It didn’t matter at first—at least I didn’t think it would matter. I didn’t know who you were or that I would fall in love with you. Now I’ve waited too long and ruined everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

Perhaps it was best, best for both of them, to lay out the truth. “You said you knew me, but you don’t, because I’ve done nothing but lie to you, right from the first moment.”

Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself to the arm of a chair. “What have you lied to me about?”