LITMIR.BIZ

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      Vague poignancy … That was something, right? She took a breath. ‘It doesn’t.’

      Blue eyes challenged her. ‘Liar.’

      ‘I’m not lying.’

      His gaze grew acute. ‘Then why is tonight any different to any other night we’ve shared if it has no other meaning? Why can’t I draw you into the warmth of that bed, the warmth of my arms and body, and farewell you slowly and thoroughly, like a goodbye should be?’

      It literally hurt to push words past her constricted larynx. ‘Because we’re done. We decided that out at the ridge, today.’

      ‘We confirmed this trip would be our last,’ he allowed. ‘We’re not done until I drop you back at your front door.’

      She stared. ‘Seriously? Down to the wire? Just so you can get one more roll in the hay?’

      ‘This isn’t about sex.’

      She snorted. ‘Of course it is.’

      ‘This is about us meaning more to you than something casual. Because if you truly didn’t care then you wouldn’t have any concerns about sleeping with me now.’

      Every muscle squeezed. He was way too close. ‘No. This is about you wanting to milk a good thing for every drop.’

      And she’d been beyond foolish to ever set herself up for this.

      His expression grew dangerously blank. ‘You think I’m hard up for female company, Shirley?’

      She’d never asked him if he was seeing anyone else. She’d never wanted to know. Because asking meant trusting his response and somewhere way deep down inside that she never looked she feared she couldn’t trust him. Not with her heart.

      ‘I’m sure there’s a queue waiting for their chance at a rich, handsome man, no matter how damaged.’

      He pursed his lips and nodded. Then he spoke. ‘Casting stones, Shirley?’

      To look at him—his casual stance, his even colour—you’d think he was supremely unconcerned by this awful discussion. But the vein pulsing high in his temple said otherwise.

      He was bothered.

      She just didn’t know by what.

      She held her ground. ‘I’m not damaged.’ Not to the same degree.

      ‘Oh, please … Look at the extremes you’re going to in order to please a woman who’s been dead for a decade. Your career choice. Your choice in men.’

      ‘What men?’

      ‘Exactly my point. And when you did finally relent to one, it’s casual and commitment-free. You’re hiding from the entire world one way or another.’

      ‘Pot, meet kettle.’ Shirley glared. ‘For someone who hasn’t left his cottage in two years or had a steady relationship ever you’re very fast to spot deficiencies in others.’

      ‘I know why I went underground. Can you say the same? Why hide behind the job? The crazy outfits?’

      Really? Now even her clothes were a crime? She threw her hands in the air. ‘It’s fashion, Hayden. It doesn’t mean I dally in self-harm or dance around naked in a circle of stones when the moon is in its zenith.’

      ‘It’s a mask. And it fits you so well you’ve forgotten you’re wearing it.’

      She locked eyes. ‘I’m having no problem right now understanding why commitment-free seems attractive …’

      ‘Come on, Shirley, ask yourself. Why do you do all of this? What are you protecting yourself from?’

      She stopped, dead. ‘What?’

      ‘How many close friends did you have growing up?’ he challenged.

      The rapid subject change threw her. ‘A few.’ Two. Two tenacious girls who never had been able to recognise subtext. They stayed with her, no matter what.

      No matter what you did to ditch them, a voice whispered.

      Or maybe test them.

      She frowned.

      ‘What do my friends—’ or lack thereof ‘—have to do with anything?’

      ‘It’s indicative of you avoiding opening yourself up to people. What is it that you think they’ll find if you let them in?’

      Insufficiency. Her mind immediately filled in the blank. Someone who is somehow sub-par.

      Her bunching muscles forced her to shove that away and focus on the man in front of her. ‘I’m confused, Hayden. A few minutes ago you were the champion of keeping things light, now you’re criticising my lack of commitment. You can’t have it both ways.’

      Like white blood cells rushing in to swamp an open wound, excuses clustered around her vulnerable heart, making a prickly shield for it. She wanted to be sorry she’d ever agreed to sleep with him in the first place. But she couldn’t. He’d moved her in too many ways. But she certainly could be damned sure it never happened again.

      ‘This whole conversation is only reinforcing my decision to end things now,’ she said as she started stuffing her belongings into her two backpacks.

      ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Packing. I’m not staying here.’ With you.

      ‘Where exactly do you plan on going? We’re in the middle of the desert.’

      He had a point. She hardly knew the museum crew well enough to crawl in with one of them. The back seat of the troop carrier was looking pretty good at this moment. ‘Not your problem.’

      ‘Shirley—’

      She spun around on him. ‘I found a dinosaur fossil.’ Or close enough. ‘So the achievable list is now complete.’ She flat-lined her hands in front of her. ‘We’re done.’

      ‘You’ll freeze out there.’ His voice dropped. ‘You can’t leave.’

      Damn him for being right. Her hand stopped, mid-stuff. ‘I can’t stay.’

      ‘Why?’

      Her chest rose and fell with alarming regularity. Why couldn’t she be more like the women in his past? Why couldn’t she just enjoy a good physical send-off? Why did she want tomorrow to never come?

      ‘Because it feels wrong,’ she whispered.

      ‘You offered a no-strings, casual relationship, Shirley. I just took you up on it.’

      Yeah, well … that was before her feelings had changed. Although … maybe they hadn’t changed at all. Maybe she’d had them all along and just saw them clearly now. Because even though she had all the reason in the world to despise him right now, she couldn’t help but be drawn to his sheer presence, still. It was galling.

      Lord. Had she fallen for him that very first day? Or had she just never got him out of her system from when she was fourteen?

      She lifted her chin. Tired of subterfuge. ‘Are you really that much of a machine, Hayden? You have no other feelings complicating things at all?’

      His face became a mask. ‘That’s not what we were about.’

      ‘And so you won’t miss me? You won’t wonder what might have been?’

      He didn’t answer. But he looked like he wanted the answer to be nope.

      ‘And will you still be doing that in twenty years? Thirty?’ she prodded, desperate to even up the emotional score. ‘Is that how you plan to end your days? Alone?’

      His tan turned slightly sallow under the lamplight. ‘If I play my cards right.’

      ‘You

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