He stared down at her.
"What's wrong?" He could detect the desperation and frustration in his voice.
"You know what's wrong. This whole damn thing is wrong." She struggled to sit up, pushing him off the desk as she did so.
She sat, perched on the edge of the desk and glared at him. She pushed her short cream skirt down. It was the most conservative thing he'd seen her wear. The white sleeveless shirt was just as unexciting, but seeing her br**sts heaving where he'd opened it drove him wild. Wilder. He kissed her lips again.
She pushed him off.
"Abbey," he growled, suddenly realizing he may have to leave frustrated.
"No! I can't keep on doing this, Damien. It's too hard."
He ignored the name and smiled wickedly. "Very hard." He pressed himself into her to get his point across.
"That's not what I meant and you know it."
He placed a hand on the desk on either side of her hips and stared into her bright blue eyes. She had amazing eyes. As blue as the sky and just as vast. He could get lost in those eyes.
"Abbey, I'm sorry I got annoyed before—"
"Annoyed! You looked like you were about to explode."
"I have a quick temper. But it's just as quick to disappear." His gaze dropped to her lips. "When I kiss you." He leaned forward and took her bottom lip between both of his and sucked.
She jerked away.
"Don't," she said. "I can't do this."
"We're two consenting adults—"
She held up a hand and he dutifully stopped. "I've heard that line a million times in the last few days and I don't want to hear it anymore. Look, I don't do casual sex with strangers very well. It's not exactly in my makeup if you know what I mean."
No, he had no idea what that meant. That she had feelings for him? That it was more than just sex to her? Or that it was just that—casual sex—and she'd realized she didn't have any feelings for him, and wanted it to end.
"No, I don't know what you mean. Tell me."
But she didn't. Instead, she sighed and put a hand on his chest. He felt her fingers tighten against his skin, as if having one last feel of him, then she pushed him backward.
"I think I'm the one who should be pissed here. You've got photos of me naked."
"And me."
"No one knows it's you except us." He glanced at the glass door. "And Lucy. And since she's a P.I. I hate to think where those photos are going to end up."
Abbey looked away. "I can't tell you that."
"I figured you wouldn't." He zipped his fly. "I also figure you're not about to tell me what's going on. And what role you've been playing throughout this little game."
"I haven't been playing any game."
But she didn't look at him. Nick didn't trust people who avoided eye contact.
He took her chin in his hand and drew her face round so she had no choice but to look into his eyes.
"If you're not going to tell me what's going on, then I'm going to walk out that door and not turn back."
Her lashes lowered and she said nothing.
He let go. An ache gnawed his gut. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to give in, tell him everything, tell him... What? That she had feelings for him?
Why? Just because he had feelings for her didn't mean she reciprocated them. Obviously this hadn't meant anything to Abbey otherwise the threat of walking out would have weakened her resolve.
She hadn't even flinched. She didn't shed a tear and she didn't even look at him.
This was something Nick wasn't used to. He always got answers. He'd always got the woman he'd wanted too. This one, the only one he'd wanted this badly in a long time—perhaps ever—wasn't giving him an inch.
He blew out a breath and forced himself to go over the facts again. Since Abbey called him Vane, it was likely that the photos had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Damien Vane and his jealous wife, Lorraine. But that wasn't the point. The point was that Nick always got answers. Always.
The truth was, Abbey didn't feel the same way about him that he felt about her. So it was for the best if he just walked away, before he got himself in further than he already was. Before he made an even bigger fool of himself.
"I see," he said quietly. He resisted the urge to give her a goodbye kiss, turned and walked out the door.
He didn't look back.
***
"Shit." Lucy took her sobbing friend in her arms.
Abbey, annoyed at herself for allowing her feelings for Damien to get the better of her, cried into her friend's shoulder, letting the pain wash out of her. Then, sucking in a deep breath, she straightened, wiped her cheeks and hopped off the desk.
"I'm not going to let him get to me," she said, as much to convince herself as Lucy.
"Bit late for that," said Lucy, eyeing her closely.
Abbey tried to smile. "I'll be fine. I'm tough."
"Yeah, as tough as marshmallow when it comes to Vane."
Abbey cursed. "I shouldn't have let him get so close to me again." It's just that he was so persuasive. She just couldn't keep her hands off him. There was something...magnetic between them.
Lucy surveyed her desk and placed her fists on out-thrust hips. "It's partly my fault. I shouldn't have left you alone with him."
Abbey picked up the stack of files that had fallen to the floor and arranged them neatly on the edge of the desk. "Sorry about the mess," she muttered, pushing the laptop back into the center.
"Don't be. I should've known better. He's got some kind of hold on you."
"He's bad news, that's what he is. I've got to learn self control."
"Maybe you should take up judo. Martial arts are a great way to learn self-control. When you realize you can kick butt it takes a hell of a lot of self control not to. I've got a great instructor." Lucy grinned. "He's really sexy."
"No thanks. It isn't necessary to kick butt in my line of work."
"I don't know—Tarken needs a good butt-kicking."
Abbey giggled despite herself. Lucy had a way of getting her out of a glum mood. Although this was one hell of a glum mood.
Lucy gave her friend a quick cuddle. "Forget about Vane. He's a bastard. He's also married and has a mistress in every port. You can do way better than him."
Abbey nodded but didn't really agree with her. Her choice in men had gone from lousy to downright atrocious. A pathetic idiot like Tarken was one thing, but a serial womanizer like Damien was entirely another.
The problem was, she felt far more for Damien than she ever had for Tarken. It might have started out as just sex, but it had rapidly turned into something else. Something that had aroused feelings and emotions that she'd begun to think weren't possible. The sort that happen in movies and books but she was yet to experience in real life.