All the Possibilities by Nora Roberts Page A

he pulled into the alleyway next to her building. "That was good timing. I'll have a chance to take a bath and a change before I go out." Shelby leaned over to give him a careless kiss on the cheek before she slipped from the car. "Thanks, Alan. Ciao ." Despising herself, Shelby made it all the way to the top landing before he caught her arm. She fixed a mildly surprised expression on her face before she turned her head.
    "What the hell is this all about?" he demanded. There was enough pressure on her arm to make her turn fully around.
    "What the hell is all what about?"
    "Don't play games, Shelby." She sighed sharply, as if bored. "It was a nice afternoon, a

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    …
    Alan tightened his grip fractionally to prevent her from slipping inside. Temper he
    —
    never, or rarely, gave in to it. It was a by-product of his heritage, the stock-in-trade of his family, but he'd always been the controlled one. The clearheaded one. He fought to remember it. "And?"
    "And?" Shelby repeated, lifting both brows. "There is no and , Alan. We spent a couple of hours at the zoo, had a few laughs. That certainly doesn't mean I'm required to sleep with you."
    She saw the anger, volatile and fierce, sweep into his eyes. A bit stunned at the strength of it, Shelby took an automatic step back. Her throat went dry instantly. Had that been sleeping in there the whole time? she wondered.
    "Do you think that's all I want?" he asked in a deadly voice as he backed her into the door. "If I only wanted you in bed, you'd have been there." His hand came up to circle her throat as she stared at the livid fury on his face.
    "There's the matter of what I want," she managed, surprised that her voice was thready and breathless. Was it fear? she asked herself swiftly. Or was it excitement?
    "The hell with what you want." When he took a step closer, Shelby pressed back so the door gave way. She would have stumbled if he hadn't been quick enough to grab her. Then they were just inside, with her body crushed close against his, her hands on his shoulders, for once indecisive.
    She tossed back her head, furious that her knees had liquefied with fear while her blood pumped hard and fast with pure desire. "Alan, you can't

    —
    "Can't?" His hand was in her hair, dragging her head back further. It poured into him fluidly
    anger, resentment, passion. He'd never felt all at once. "I can. We both know I
    —
    can now, and could have before." And I should have, he told himself as fury and frustration took over. "You want me right now; I can see it." She shook her head but couldn't dislodge his hand. How could she have forgotten the panther so soon? "No, I don't."
    "Do you think you can take shots at what I do, at what I am, with impunity, Shelby?" The arm around her waist tightened so that she struggled not to gasp. "Do you think you can push me so far and not pay any price?"
    She swallowed, but her throat stayed dry. "You're acting as though I've encouraged you when I've done precisely the opposite," she told him in what almost succeeded in being a mildly annoyed tone. "Let me go, Alan."
    "When I'm ready."
    His mouth came down toward hers. Shelby sucked in her breath
    whether in protest or
    —
    anticipation, she wasn't sure. But he stopped, just short of contact so she was trembling. All she could see in his eyes was fury, and her own reflection. Yes, she'd forgotten the panther, and that wicked, seething temper of the Bronte heroes he'd first reminded her of.
    "Do you think you're what I want? What I can rationally, easily, say I want? You're everything but what suits me. You flout everything that's vital to my life." That hurt. Though it was precisely what she'd set out to do, it hurt that he could say it.
    "I'm exactly what I am," she tossed back. "Exactly what I want to be. Why