Releasing the chair, she twirled her fingers in the front of his oversize shirt, abruptly aware of how little it covered. Strangely enough, she felt more naked now than she had in his bed wearing nothing at all. “Before I make that decision, will you answer just one question for me? Honestly?”
“That depends on what you ask,” he said guardedly.
“Did you first ask me out because of my friendship with the McBrides?”
“Yes.”
His starkly honest answer made her heart sink. “Damn,” she whispered.
Mac had used her. He’d just admitted it. It seemed that Brad had been right. She would try to remember to apologize to him—after she’d had a good cry.
“I want to get dressed now,” she said, moving toward the doorway in which he stood.
He didn’t move, but continued to block her passage. “Maybe it started out that way, but that isn’t why I’m here with you now.”
“I’d like to believe that,” she murmured, unable to meet his eyes. “But I saw what you’ve written on these pages. I don’t know what you’re doing, or why, but I know you got part of that information from me. You used me.”
“In some ways, that’s true. And I’m sorry. But—”
“Please let me get dressed, Mac,” she begged miserably. “I can’t think clearly like this.”
He hesitated for one tense moment, then moved aside.
She almost dashed to the bedroom.
She couldn’t look at the rumpled bed while she gathered her clothes and took them into the bathroom to dress. Her thoughts were whirling, her stomach clenching. She had plunged so swiftly from euphoria to despair that she could hardly process what had happened to her. She still didn’t have a clue what Mac was up to, but it didn’t really matter just then. She knew she wasn’t going to like it. If there was a simple, innocuous explanation, he would have told her already. And he had already admitted that he’d first been interested in her because of her connection to the McBrides.
Foolishly enough, she’d thought it was her personality he’d been drawn to. Her talent, perhaps. Hell, she wouldn’t have been this upset if he’d confessed that he’d only wanted her for her body. But to use her against her friends, to pump her for information about the people she liked so much, and who had been so good to her…well, that really hurt.
Whatever he was up to, there was no excuse.
Dressed again in her blouse and shorts, she wished she had worn something more formal that evening. It wasn’t easy to be cool, clipped and intimidating in shorts. But she intended to try. She took several deep breaths before she stepped out of the bathroom. She wasn’t eager to face Mac again.
He was still in the kitchen. The photograph had been put away, she noted. So had his notes. The bourbon bottle still sat on the table, capped now. The tumbler was empty.
Mac leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his bare chest. “Do you feel better now?”
“No.” She wasn’t sure she would ever feel better again, not as badly as he had hurt her tonight. “Will you tell me now why you’re gathering information about my friends?”
“I can’t, Sharon. Not yet.”
“Do you ever plan to tell me?”
He hesitated for a long time before answering. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”
“Does it have something to do with your police work? Are you undercover for some reason? Do you think any of the McBrides are involved in something illegal?”
He was shaking his head even before she paused for a breath. “I’m not a cop, Sharon. Not anymore. My reasons for being here are strictly personal.”
“And you won’t tell me what they are.”
“There are people who might be hurt. I don’t know yet if I want to be responsible for that.”
&n
bsp; “You must have known when you came here that someone could be hurt. Didn’t it bother you then?”
“I didn’t know them then.”