“Hey, Stretch. Carry those for you?”
Her pretty bubble of contentment burst. Before she could snarl,Jordan snatched the load of books away, tucked them under his own arm.
“Give me those.”
“Ive got them. Terrific afternoon, huh? Nothing like the Valley in October.” She hated that his words mirrored the ones that had played through her mind. “I thought the name of the tune was „Autumn inNew York .”
“And its a good one.” He tipped up the books to read the spines. She had one on Celtic lore, one on yoga, and the latest Stephen King novel.
“Yoga?”
It was like him, just exactly like him, to home in on the one thing that she found moderately embarrassing. “So?”
“Nothing. Just cant see you assuming the dragonfly position or whatever.” He narrowed his eyes, and something appealingly wicked moved into the blue. “On second thought…”
“Havent you got anything better to do than skulking around the library waiting to accost and annoy me?”
“I wasnt skulking, and hauling your books isnt accosting.” He matched his stride to hers with the ease of long familiarity. “Its not the first time Ive walked you home.”
“Somehow Ive managed to find my way without you the last several years.”
“Youve managed a lot of things. Hows your dad doing?” She bit back a vicious remark because she knew, for all his many flaws, thatJordan asked the question out of a sincere concern. Joe Steele and Jordan Hawke had gotten on like white on rice.
“Hes good. Hes doing good. The move toArizona was what he needed. He and Liz have a nice place, a nice life. Hes taken up baking.”
“Baking? Like cakes? Joe bakes cakes?”
“And scones and fancy bread.” She couldnt stop the smile. The thought of her father, big, macho Joe, in an apron whipping up cake batter got her every time. “I get a care package every couple of months. First few contributions made excellent doorstops, but in the last year or so hes found his rhythm. He makes good stuff.”
“Give him my best next time you talk to him.” She shrugged. She didnt intend to mention Jordan Hawkes name, unless it was in a curse. “End of the road,” she said when they reached the door of her apartment building.
“I want to come in.”
“Not in this or any other lifetime.” She reached for the books, he swung them out of reach. “Cut it out,Jordan . Were not ten.”
“We have things to talk about.”
“No, we dont.”
“Yes, we do. And stop making me feel like Im ten.” He hissed out a breath, prayed for patience. “Look, Dana, weve got a history. Lets deal with it like grown-ups.”
Damn if he would so much as hint that she was being immature. The pinhead. “Okay, heres how well deal with it. Give me my books and go away.”
“Did you listen to what Rowena said last night?” There was an edge in the tone now, one that warned her a good, sweaty argument was brewing. “Did you pay any attention? Your past, present, and future. Im part of your past. Im part of this.”
“In my past is just where youre going to stay. I wasted two years of my life on you. But thats done. Cant you stand it,Jordan ? Cant your enormous ego handle the fact that I got over you? Way over you.”
“This isnt about my ego, Dana.” He handed her back her books. “But it sure as hell seems to be about yours. You know where to find me when youre ready.”
“I dont want to find you,” she murmured when he strode away.
Damn it, it wasnt like him to walk away from a fight. Shed seen the temper on his face, heard it in his voice. Since when had he yanked the snarling beast back and hauled it off?
She had been primed for the argument, and now she had nowhere to vent her spleen. That was very, very nasty.
Inside her apartment, she dumped her books on the table and headed straight for the Ben and Jerrys. Soon she was soothing her ruffled feathers with a pint of cookie dough straight out of the carton.
“Bastard. Sneaky bastard, getting me all riled up and skulking off. These calories are his fault.”