The emotion blazing in his eyes shocked her. They were dark, tortured, his expression a furious grimace as he stared back at her.
“I can’t imagine it would cause you a sleepless night,” she yelled back at him, tugging at the hold he had on her hair. “Now let go of me.”
He was breathing as hard as she was. “Not on your life, sweetheart. By God, you’ll answer me or you’ll answer to Reno. Take your choice.”
“I don’t answer to either one of you.” She was panting with her own anger now. Anger and arousal. The anger she could understand; the arousal infuriated her.
She watched his eyes widen at her response.
“There is where you are so wrong.” This was more nerve-wracking than being shot at. Clint looked ready to commit murder.
“Oh my God, you have so lost it.” She pushed at his chest; unfortunately, it was like shoving at a boulder. “Who the hell do you think you are? What I do is none of your business. And how do you know the bastard playing with guns wasn’t after you? I could see someone wanting to kill you. I fantasize about it often.” She glared back at him, anger surging through her system.
“Answers, Morganna. Now.”
She hated it when he got like this. When he decided he was the law, that she was answerable to him just because that was what he decided.
“I have no answers for you, Clint. Even if you did deserve them. Which you don’t.” She kept her voice low, despite her anger, despite the fact that she had intended to attempt to explain things to him earlier. The look on his face assured her that no explanations were going to help. There was the potential of making things worse.
She lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to back down, even as she refused to admit that his rage sparked more than just her answering anger.
But it wasn’t just rage. For the first time, she saw emotion. It shadowed his eyes, roughened his voice, and she had to tamp back the hope flaring inside her at the evidence that somehow he might very well care for her.
“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” he shouted to no one in particular as he jerked away from her, his dark glower causing her to watch him with wary suspicion. “Why, Morganna, doesn’t it surprise me that you’re doing something stupid?”
“Stupid?” She stared back at him incredulously. “Excuse me, Clint? What do you do for a living here? I was just having a good night at a nice little club. Honestly, I’m beginning to suspect that car was after you. What did you do, manhandle the wrong woman?”
He snarled as he cast her a fulminating look, his eyes burning with anger. “I knew you were up to something. I told Reno last year you were up to something. You’ve been acting sneaky as hell for years now.”
“You are so paranoid.” She jutted her hip and braced her hand on the bare flesh with a mocking laugh. “Really. Just because I’m not chasing after you day and night anymore doesn’t mean I’m up to something.”
God was going to get her for that lie. The day she had stopped watching the door for him, had decided to get a life, it was as though he had known. But instead of accepting what she felt for him, he had automatically assumed she was up to something.
And perhaps she was. She had a life. A productive one. One that gave her purpose.
He turned on her, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes as they went over her body. And she didn’t look bad; she knew she didn’t. She had worked hard over the last four years to make certain her body was in peak shape, that the clothes she wore enhanced her figure, and that the makeup enhanced her role. Though she was pretty certain the makeup had worn off when he’d pushed her face into the truck seat earlier.
“What were you doing at Diva’s?” he demanded. “Dressed like that and flashing your body to every damned pervert there? And don’t lie to me, Morganna. I have friends there. I’ll find out the truth.”
Now why didn’t that surprise her?
“So asks the man that owns his own private room,” she snorted. “Clint, I know exactly how much those rooms cost per year. And it’s more than obvious you use it. Does that make you a pervert as well?” She arched her brow mockingly.
“The worst kind.”
Her breath slammed from her throat as his gaze became more intent, touching over the flesh bared by her clothing, reminding her of his touch, the dominance in his kiss.
“Well, at least you’re honest,” she breathed out. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to call me a cab . . .”
“Explain the receiver.” Cold fury filled his lowered voice. He was no longer pissed; now he was dangerous.
She arched her brow.
“I’ll track it to the other side, Morganna. I’ll find out who’s on the other end and I’ll start by questioning that leather-toting Dom wannabe first. You want to see his pretty face messed up?”
Could Craig take him in a fight? Morganna knew in a heartbeat he couldn’t. Clint had nearly killed him in the hallway earlier.
She lifted her chin defiantly.
“I don’t owe you explanations, Clint. I don’t owe you anything. Now I’m ready to go home.”
“Now isn’t that just too bad,” he drawled, his expression shifting, lust mixing with the anger as he continued to watch her. “You know, Morganna, I have that room there for a reason. I don’t know who you think you’re playing with, but it’s not a fake Dom willing to let you play your little games. Is that what you were hoping for? That this game you’re playing would get you into my bed?”
No. She didn’t. But the subtle throb of arousal in his voice had her sex clenching in response, her juices gathering, weeping from her aching vagina.
This was a part of Clint she had never seen before. A part that filled her with trepidation and excitement.
“And who says I’m going to end up in your bed?” She tried to forget how much she wanted to be there.
Every cell in her body was throbbing in need. She remembered his kiss. One brief, possessive melding of lips when she had been eighteen and he was twenty-seven. His hands had held her to him, his lips had possessed her, and she had never forgotten it. Now, ten years later, she still remembered. She wanted his lips on her again, anywhere, everywhere.
“Oh, you’re going to end up there,” he assured her smoothly. Morganna swallowed tightly.
“Why now?” She had ached for him for years. Done everything she could think of to make him see her, make him want her. And now, when she had given up, he wanted to play sex games. Talk about lousy damned timing.