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His gaze met hers, but he didn’t speak.
The arrogance of the man, she thought, irritation growing. It had been a couple of hours at the movies, followed by dinner. Nothing had happened. The fact that she’d wanted him to kiss her wasn’t the point. She’d never hinted at it, so he didn’t know what she’d been thinking. Lucky for him, the whole kissing thing was a lot less appealing now than it had been.
“As I don’t recall proposing,” she told him, “I can only assume that you have such a high opinion of yourself that you believe a single evening in your presence is so overwhelming that women automatically want to marry you. That has to be tough to deal with. Fortunately, I seem to be immune.”
“Reggie, I can’t go there. Not while Harrison is young. I can’t risk it.”
“Fine. It’s all clear now. I hate to have to return the ring. Oh, wait. We’re not engaged.” She slapped her hand against her forehead. “Silly me.”
“Be serious.”
“Why? This is a ridiculous topic. You’re not getting married? Who says that? Who thinks it? Do you honestly believe I spend my life thinking about you? I don’t. I haven’t thought of you in years.”
He watched her. “Last night was different.”
“We went to the movies. Big whoop.”
“It was more than that.”
Was it? He’d felt it, too? Only she couldn’t say that because he was currently being a butthead, or slipping into madness.
“We have chemistry,” he continued. “That hasn’t gone away. But you’re not the casual sex type, and I don’t do anything else.”
She took a second to digest all of that. Yup, a butthead.
“Wow,” she said, letting herself build up steam. “Just to quickly recap, you’ve assumed I want to marry you, and you wanted to let me down on that one. Now you’re telling me how I feel about sex. You don’t actually need me for this conversation, do you? What’s wrong with you? I mean that as a genuine question, because you’ve screwed this up from the second you opened your mouth. I suggest you take yourself home and figure out how to get your head out of your ass. I’m guessing when that happens, you’re going to feel like a first-class jerk, which is good, because you are one.”
She pointed to the stairs. “Get out.”
“Reggie, we have to talk.”
“No, we don’t. Get out. I mean it. Go.”
He nodded once and went up the stairs. She walked to the sofa and sat down. She had no idea what had just happened. Where had all that come from, and why had he felt the need to dump all over her?
She looked at Belle. “Never like a guy. I’m serious. They’re nothing but trouble.”
Anger churned inside her, along with just a hint of sadness. So much for him being like the guy she’d once known. If this was the real grown-up Toby, she wanted nothing to do with him.
“You’re being difficult for no reason,” Electra said, her full lips forming a pout.
Micah looked away from the computer screen, wishing he hadn’t agreed to the online call. He’d known what she wanted to talk about and had mistakenly thought he could change her mind.
“I’m not interested in going away with you,” he said flatly. “I’m not going to write with you, and I’m not coming back to LA.”
She flipped her long red hair over her shoulder. “Why are you being like this? You know we write well together. Why are you resisting the inevitable?”
“There is no inevitable. Electra, look at me. No. I’m saying no.”
Her green eyes narrowed slightly. “You need me, Micah. You’re not writing on your own. If you were, I would have heard. I can be your inspiration.”
“I doubt that.”
“You’re not even trying.”
“I’m going now,” he said, just as someone knocked on his door.
“Micah, wait. I have something to tell you.”
