The Marshal (Harlequin Intrigue) by Adrienne Giordano

Author:Adrienne Giordano [Adrienne Giordano]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780373698103
Amazon: 0373698100
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

He loved her? He did not just say that. Not now, when things had been so perfect. So fun. But no, Brent had to remind her just how emotionally twisted he really was.

As much as she’d fooled herself into thinking they could have a fling, a physical release that would satisfy both their curiosities, she should have known better. She cared too much. About him. About his family. About his mother.

Now he claimed he loved her, and she was just needy enough—and smitten enough—to believe it and get her heart stomped on when his infatuation cooled.

Brent rolled off her, his big body landing precariously on the edge of her queen-size bed. Need a bigger bed. Great. Already buying king-size furniture for the king-size man she had no business buying anything for. With his need to close himself off and her need for constant approval, they’d be New Orleans the day after Katrina. One heck of a mess.

But she had yet to respond to his big announcement. What was a girl supposed to do with that? Thank you? Back at ya? No.

He rolled to his side, kissed her bare shoulder. “I promised you pizza. I’m starving.”

Pizza. Really? She shook her head, smacked her palm against her temple and shook again. Yep. Fully awake. “Um, did I miss something?”

“I said I’m hungry.”

“Before that. The thing you said.”

He cocked his head, closed one eye. Thinking. He must be joking. How could he forget something that important?

“The I-love-you thing,” she said. “Did I hear that right?”

Brent laughed and in one quick move was on his feet, dealing with the damned condom and collecting his clothes, all those yummy muscles and hard lines of his body kicking up her pulse.

“You heard it. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Oh, now she got it. People said all kinds of nutty things during an orgasmic high—not that she’d ever been afflicted with that particular problem. But obviously, Brent had.

And now he needed to backpedal because he was afraid she’d start dropping the “L” word also. That made total sense. A weird sense of relief set in and the sudden tension in her shoulders eased.

“It’s all right. I just didn’t know what I should do.”

Brent zipped his jeans, checked that all was in proper order and shoved his T-shirt over his head. “About the fact that I love you? Or that I said it?”

“Uh...both?”

Again, he laughed. “You’re funny. You don’t need to do anything. I said it. I meant it and we can be done.”

“You can take it back.”

He gave her an are-you-on-medication? look. “Is this third grade? Why would I take it back?”

She grunted—take a second—and rolled to the opposite side of the bed where her bathrobe hung from a hook on the wall.

“You know what I mean. We were caught up. It was fun. A great stress reliever. Even if you think you’re in love, you’re probably not.”

Propping his hands on his hips, he stared up at the ceiling and blew air before facing her again.

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