by Niki Green
“I bet Betty Tucker wouldn’t think so. Do you think a woman who might be dying cares at all about how many newspapers get sold in Denver?”
Damn him. He’d always had a way of making her feel small when that wasn’t what she’d meant at all. Couldn’t he see it was a greater-good issue? But Dev had never been one to see the big picture. He’d had the most annoying tunnel vision of anyone she ever met. Right and wrong. Black and white.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” she huffed, lifting her nose and moving to walk past him to her car. Forty-eight hours. Hmph. If he’d sign by the X right now, he’d be off the hook and she’d consider it two thousand dollars well spent. They could end this farce of a marriage and get on to their respective lives.
He reached out and grabbed her arm.
“You never expected me to understand, Ell.” The words were laced with unexpected venom. “I understand a hell of a lot more than you think.”
His fingers burned holes in her sleeve and she fought back the thrill of excitement thrumming through her just by having his hands on her again. It shouldn’t happen after all this time, but he’d always had that effect on her. She pasted on the brightest smile she could muster. “Brilliant. So why don’t you tell me what I’m thinking right now?”
He still had a firm grip on her biceps and she tilted her chin way up to look at him. Even with her heels on, he was taller than her. Over six feet of manly sexiness. Her gaze caught on his lips. Those lips had known every inch of her when they’d been little more than kids. She blinked. Back then he’d been the solution, not the problem. The savior, not the devil.
“You’re thinking, how am I going to get Dev to sign those papers I’ve got sitting in my car?”
She twisted out of his grip and stomped to the car as his knowing laughter echoed behind her. She had been thinking exactly that. Along with wondering how his mouth would feel over hers when she wanted nothing more than to be free of him. For good. How was it possible to think both at the same time?
“Well. You’re smarter than you look,” she answered, determined he not know the effect he was having on her. If ever she’d needed confirmation that she’d done the right thing by not looking back, here it was staring her in the face. She couldn’t even manage a simple conversation with him without losing perspective.
“Yep. So where to now, Ell? Because according to your terms of purchase, we’ve got forty-eight whole hours.”
A shiver went through her at the possibilities. But possibilities got a girl absolutely nowhere. “You sign these now, and we’ll call it even. Both of us free as a bird.”
He came towards her, walking with that lazy long stride she remembered. His T-shirt was untucked and had a line of dust across it from the floor inside. She wanted to reach up and brush it off. But she didn’t. She couldn’t touch him. Not after the way her body had reacted when he’d whispered in her ear.
She backed up against the door of her car, her breath hardly moving her chest.
“I’m in no rush, Ella McQuade.”
“You never were.” She said it with a snarky twist so he’d be sure to get the insult. “And don’t call me that.”
His body was warm as they hovered only inches apart. If she leaned forward the slightest bit they’d be touching in several places. Her body strained against her clothing while her head warned her to stay put.
“Why not? It’s your name.”
“Not anymore.”
He lifted his hand and traced a finger down her sleeve. She shivered. He’d always been that way. He’d always known what a simple touch could do to her. They’d learned together, discovering all the special spots. Only now it was worse. Now they were older, wiser. Knowing he still had that effect on her hurt. She should have moved on by now. Moving on was the entire reason she’d brought those papers to begin with.
“It is until I sign those.”
“Please, just sign them then. Sign them and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”
His finger went up her sleeve and down again. “Not yet. Come back to the house. I still have some things of yours anyway. You can pick them up.”
“Devin.” She looked up at him, censoring him with her eyes. “You know that’s not a good idea.”
Dammit, saying it did nothing more than give credence to the attraction shimmering between them.
“When have you and I ever had good ideas?”
The door to Ruby’s opened and shut again and she sighed. Did she really want to argue this in a public place?
“Almost never,” she admitted.
“Forty-eight hours. That’s my deal, Ell. You spend the weekend with me, and at the end of it I’ll sign your precious papers. You’ll be free as a bird, as you said.”