Bound For Me(14)

“You could have had a bad reaction to whatever it was they gave you,” he all but growled. “They could have hurt you.”

Like those thoughts hadn’t already occurred to her?

The anger inside was almost uncontrollable. To have her strength taken away from her? To be incapacitated like that—forcing her to be dependent on someone else? On Connor freaking Hughes?

“I know you’re angry,” he said.

“You have no idea how I’m feeling,” she choked.

He leaned closer but she flinched back, snatching her hand out from under his.

She did not want his sympathy. She did not want his touch.

“We’ll get them, Savannah. I promise.”

Really? What was his promise worth? “Justice is that important to you?” she asked sceptically.

“Of course. Isn’t it to you?”

“It’s very important to me,” she answered in a hard voice. “When someone has done something wrong, they ought to have to pay.”

His eyes narrowed.

She breathed in. Maybe she’d said that a little too vehemently.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked.

Her lungs constricted. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here, in Summerhill?”

“I need money and I get good tips here.” She swept her hair back from her face in a casual gesture.

“Really?” He sounded so disbelieving.

“Some people like my bitch bartender act.” She sent him a pointed look.

“And we both know it’s an act.” He laughed under his breath. “You’re not anywhere near as cold as you make out.”

She stiffened, unable to contain her anger any longer. “You should have told me who you were.”

His laugh was louder that time. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

“No? I asked if you knew Rex Hughes. If you knew Connor. You didn’t tell me. Then we had sex and you still didn’t tell me.”

He sobered completely. “And why do you want to know Rex? Why do you want to know me?” He put one fist either side of her, bracing forward to ask right in her face. “What do you want from me?”

That really wasn’t a question she wanted to answer right now. Her brain was too scrambled. And her body? Too confused to know what was best for it.

She’d come here with the general notion of making them pay somehow. But it wasn’t like she was actually about to blackmail them like in some TV soap. Probably the worst she could do was go to the press and see if someone was interested in her story.

But she didn’t want that humiliation for her father.

Truth? She’d been so lost after discovering what her dad had done. That he’d lied to her. Lost her money. Lost her home. Lost his dignity.

Coming here was the one idea that she could cling to. To come to Summerhill and see them for herself and find out how fake they were. Because she was certain they were fake. She wanted to prove that this whole perfect life image that they sold—that they promised anyone could have—was a facade. Then she could go back to her father and show him something—anything—to get him to pull himself together.

“You said you were supposed to hate me,” he said.

She shot him a startled glance.

“Last night, when you learned who I was. You said you were supposed to hate me.” He leaned over her again. “Why?”

“I do hate you.” She loathed him at this moment.

“No. You don’t.”

She gasped. Of all the breathtakingly arrogant things to say?

“You wanted me before you knew who I was,” he said. “You still want me now.”

“No. I don’t,” she ground out a mocking echo of his arrogance.

“I don’t really want to want you either,” he smiled wryly. “I don’t trust you.”

He didn’t? “I guess that means we’re even.”

“You don’t trust me?” He cocked his head, eyes widening in disbelief. “I did everything in my power to ensure your safety last night, but you don’t trust me?”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t.”

“By omission.”

“But what information are you omitting now, Savannah?”

Her mistrust sharpened. “How do you know my name?” she asked. “When did you find out my name?”

Did he know who she was? Did he know about the thread connecting them? And if he did—when did he know?

He met her gaze square on. “Why are you here, really? Don’t tell me it’s for the good tips.”

If he thought that she didn’t need money, then he didn’t know what had happened—how broke she was.

For a long moment she stared at his chiseled features. So hard edged. Was it really for a charity fundraiser that he’d ended up looking so ruthless?

Suddenly it seemed pointless. The whole mess was hopeless. Like her father—like her life. She leaned back against the pillow. “I want to go to my apartment.”

He hesitated, then frowned. “You can’t stay there alone.”

Oh for heaven’s sake, she just wanted some space. “Why not?” She sat upright again. “Don’t try to steal my independence. You can’t make it seem as if nowhere is safe. I’m assuming those guys have disappeared, right?”

He pressed his lips together for a moment, then answered. “Yes, they checked out of their hotel unit early.”

“Then I need to have faith that the rest of the people in this town are honest.” She shot him another pointed look. “Almost all the people.”

“You don’t think I’m honest either?”

“Jury’s out,” she snapped.

Connor chuckled, relieved to see her fighting spirit return so quickly. A couple seconds ago she’d looked defeated. It wasn’t a look he’d liked.

But damn, it turned out she sure knew how to dance. Not giving a thing away, was she? No answers. No info. But he saw the fatigue circling her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to push for what he wanted. Nor for everything else he wanted.

Not going there. Not messing with her more. Get a freaking grip.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment.” He made himself stand and turn away before he got harder.

“I don’t need you to do that,” she answered, back to her frigidly snappy self.

“I know you don’t need me to. But I’m going to.” He hated the thought of her being alone, but he didn’t trust himself not to start pushing her for all the wrong things. Jeez, the woman had to be feeling horrendous, as if she’d be wanting to get hot and heavy this instant?

And he didn’t want to either, right? All he wanted was to know what she really wanted.

“Get your boots on, there’s a bathroom just through that door,” he nodded his head in the direction. “I’ll be waiting out in the lounge.”

He’d have laughed at the look of profound relief on her face, if he weren’t feeling so edgy. He didn’t bother grabbing a coat, too hot. He buzzed down to the porter to bring his car round the back entrance.

She emerged from the bedroom, looking too pale and wobbly. Like a freaking newborn lamb. But was she as innocent?

He drew her to the elevator rather than the narrow spiral stairs.

“This is a guest apartment?” She gave the lounge a vague glance.

“Staff,” he answered blandly, not about to elaborate. He jabbed the elevator button a couple more times.

She didn’t question more. Yeah, not really one for small talk. In fact, she didn’t utter a word during the entire drive to her building. Was out of the car before he could get around to open her door for her. Refusing to act the invalid wasn’t she?

Refusing to accept any help whatsoever.

His irritation spiked and he walked her right to her door, just to annoy her.

And because he couldn’t quite leave her yet.

“Any headaches, nausea, anything. Call me. Or if you can’t bring yourself to call me, at least call Austin.” He handed her a card with Austin’s mobile number on it.

“You think I’m ungrateful,” she said baldly, not looking up at him.

“I think you’re confused.” He ran his finger over her beautiful mouth. “I’m not the baddie here.”

But she just might be.

She’d frozen under his touch. He couldn’t hear her breathing, wasn’t sure he was breathing either.

Lust surged. He wanted to kiss her, everywhere. He wanted to see her this time—to watch her as he made her come. Wanted to taste her the way he hadn’t the other night. Wanted to hear those gorgeous moans again. Wanted to feel her utterly naked body under his, over his, embracing his—wet and writhing again.

She was so fucking hot.

And now? Now her eyes were wide and her breathing had restarted, raggedly. Color had returned to her cheeks and—

She stepped back, turning to quickly stab her key in the lock.

He stood on the doorstep, sending her a mocking smile as she slammed the door in his face. He heard the lock snib.

She’d bolted. Literally.

Slowly he walked back down the path to his car, welcoming the bitterly cold breeze. It reminded him of what really mattered. He shouldn’t have gotten involved with her at all. Last night he should have taken her to Austin’s medical suite and put her out of his mind.

He’d wasted enough time flicking ‘stop’ and ‘go’ switches on the slopes as it was in this last week, let alone chase skirt now.