Surrender by Metsy Hingle Read Free Book Online Page B

consolation in the fact that she doesn’t seem to like your friend Jacques, either.”
    Aimee couldn’t argue with that. It was true. Liza didn’t like Peter and, evidently, she didn’t care for Jacques. In truth, Liza didn’t like most men, nor did she trust any of them. And with reason. “She just doesn’t want to see me get hurt,” Aimee said defensively.
    “What makes her think I’d hurt you?”
    Aimee shrugged. “She knows how I feel about you. She also knows those feelings aren’t reciprocated.”
    A tortured expression crossed his face. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wish I were capable of more, Aimee. But I’m not. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman in my life, but I’m not capable of love. I’ve never pretended that I am. My ex-wife used to say it wasn’t a part of my genetic makeup. I guess she was right.” His voice grew gentle. “If it were possible, if I was capable of loving anyone, I would love you.”
    His words cut through her like a beam of light piercing a midnight sky. Don’t give up, she whispered silently to herself. Peter had so much love inside him to give. She just had to keep trying to find a way to unlock the prison that held him an emotional captive.
    “Please believe me. I’d never do anything to hurt you. At least not intentionally.”
    “I know,” Aimee said, smiling. “That’s what I told Liza. But for some reason, she’s got this strange notion that you’re after something. I mean, that you want something from me. Something besides…” Aimee hesitated. She dropped her gaze, searching for the right word to describe their lovemaking.
    “Something besides sex.”
    Aimee wanted to cringe at the word, but instead she forced her gaze upward to meet his. “I mean something besides just a physical relationship.”
    “Like what?”
    “Who knows? Certainly not my paintings,” she said good-naturedly. “Other than my art, I don’t have much else.”
    An odd expression crossed Peter’s face, but before she could define it, he turned away. He walked over to the French doors and stared out at the street below.
    “Peter?”
    “You’d better go on downstairs. I could do without another verbal thrashing from your friend.”
    “But—”
    “Go on, Aimee. You’ve been looking for a dealer to hook up with. Now’s your chance. You’ve got one waiting for you downstairs.” His voice was hard, almost cruel, with no trace of the gentleness of only moments before.
    Aimee could almost feel the tension emanating from him. “I don’t need to go,” she offered.
    “Of course you do.” He whipped around to face her. He looked tormented, haunted, as he did when he first awoke from one of his nightmares. “Liza might be right. This could be the big break you’ve been waiting for.”
    “Then my big break can wait. If he’s a legitimate dealer and really interested in my work, he’ll wait for me or he’ll come back. I’d rather stay with you.”
    “Not very smart, Aimee.” He ran his finger along the line of her jaw. “We both know you’ll never get that big break from me. And I certainly wouldn’t expect you to pass up the chance of being discovered just for a quick tumble on the sheets with me.”
    Aimee gasped.
    Peter knew at once that he had gone too far.
    Her already pale skin had drained of color. Her ghostblue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, then sparked with a fury that turned them an eerie silver. Her fingers curledinto tight fists at her sides, and for a moment, Peter thought she was going to slap him.
    For a moment, a part of him wished she would.
    Feeling lower than the belly of a snake, he started to touch her. “Aimee, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
    She slapped his hand away. “Save your apologies. I don’t need them and I don’t want them.” She glared at him, her pale eyes glittering with anger. And pain.
    Peter dropped his hand.
    Shoving past him, she headed for the bedroom.
    He had felt rotten deceiving her. He