“No.”
“Stop being difficult or we’re never going to reach an agreement.”
“You earned the money. Keep it.” His voice was low and quiet. Determined. “I want you to have it.”
I frowned. And then I paused, taking his face in my hand and inspecting his stubbled jawline. The pad of my thumb ran back and forth over a small pink indentation. “What is this? How did you get this scar?”
“Someone threw a chunky silver ring at me at a festival about six months back. I think it was meant to be a gift.”
“Hell of a gift.”
“Just bad luck.” He reached up and gave my hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I thought you had security.”
“They can’t be everywhere all the time. Things happen.” A sweet slow smile curled his lips. “Jill, baby, I’m fine. It’s just rock and roll. No need to get angry.”
“I’m not angry.” Mildly outraged he’d been harmed, but not angry.
“Then stop scowling, you’re scaring me to death.”
“Very funny.” With a deep breath, I relaxed my face and channeled some nice calm thoughts. “People shouldn’t be throwing things at you. It’s rude and dangerous.”
“Usually it’s just panties, flowers—soft stuff like that.”
“Ew.”
His smile amped up and he was back to staring. God I liked that way more than I wanted to admit. But he had to know. What with the way I kept meeting his gaze before looking away, acting all nervous and on edge.
Finally, he licked his lips. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I thought about picking up the phone to call you. Wanting to tell you about something that had happened. Then I’d remember…you didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Like you weren’t mad at me too.”
“Oh, I was. For a week or two. Then I just felt like an ass more than anything.”
“So, what? You wrote that whole album during the week or two you were angry at me?”
“Yeah. Basically. Channeled everything into the music. Worked through it all and realized I was wrong, and you were right.” He watched me with a raised brow. “But the songs were good. It wasn’t like I was going to let them go to waste and not play them.”
“Of course not.” I snorted and set down the scissors. “Say it again, the I was right and you were wrong part.”
“I was right, and you were wrong.”
I growled and launched myself at him, putting much energy into messing up his now nice and neat hair, making it fall all over his stupid handsome face, sprinkling tiny snippets of cut hair all over us, like so much confetti. “You’re done, Adam. In all the ways.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” He grabbed my hips, grinning all the while. “I was wrong. You were right. There…I said it.”
“Again.”
All amused-like, he looked skyward. “You’re a demanding woman. You know that?”
“Damn right I am.”
“Damn right you are.”
Impossible not to smile back at him. Lord, I was a weak-willed woman. His fingers flexed, digging into the flesh of my hips just a little, and perhaps Adam still felt a touch possessive about me and my body too.
He slipped a hand behind my ear, gentle as can be. “I like the silver hair.”