Midnight At Tiffany's by Sarah Morgan Page B

thought—you said—I thought you saw me that way.”
    “Yeah, well, I tried.” He gave a humorless laugh and drained his champagne in one mouthful. “God knows, I tried. I’ve done everything short of asking Matt for a baby photo of you and sticking that to my wall. Nothing works. And do you know why? Because I do have feelings, you’re not little and you’re not my fucking sister.”
    Shock struck her like a bolt of lightning.
    They were the only two people left on the terrace. Just them and the twinkling lights of Manhattan. The buildings rose around them, dark shapes enveloping them in intimate shadows and the shimmer of light.
    The storm clouds were gathering, creating ominous shapes in the dark sky.
    The sudden lick of wind held the promise of rain.
    Paige was oblivious. The sky could have come crashing down and she wouldn’t have noticed.
    Her mouth was so dry she could hardly form the words. “But if you feel that way—if—you do have feelings, why do you keep saying—” she stumbled, confused. “Why haven’t you ever done anything about it?”
    “Why do you think?” There was a cynical, bitter edge to Jake’s tone that didn’t fit the nature of the conversation. None of the pieces fitted. She couldn’t think. Everything about her had ceased to function.
    “Because of Matt?”
    “Partly. He’d kick my butt and I wouldn’t blame him.” He stared down at his hands, as if they were something that didn’t belong to him. As if he was worried about what they might do.
    “Because you’re not interested in relationships—or complications as you call them.”
    “Exactly.”
    “But sex doesn’t have to be a relationship. It can just be sex. You said so yourself.”
    “Not with you.” His tone was harsh and she took a step back, shocked. They’d often argued, baited each other, but she’d never heard that edge of steel in his voice before.
    “Why? What’s different about me?”
    “I’m not going to screw you and walk away, Paige. That’s not going to happen.”
    “Because of our friendship? Because you’re worried it would be awkward?”
    “Yeah, that too.”
    “Too? What else?” She stared at him bemused.
    He was silent.
    “Jake? What else?”
    He swore under his breath. “Because I care about you. I don’t want to hurt you. There’s already been enough damage to your heart. You don’t need more.”
    The first raindrops started to fall.
    Paige was oblivious.
    Her head spun with questions. Where? What? Why?
How much?
“So you—wait—” She struggled to make sense of it. “You’re saying that you’ve been protecting me? No. That can’t be true. You’re the only one who
doesn’t
protect me. When everyone else is wrapping me in cotton wool, you handle me like you’re throwing the first pitch at the game.” He didn’t protect her. He didn’t. Not Jake.
    She waited for him to agree with her, to confirm that he didn’t protect her.
    He was silent.
    There was a throbbing in her head. She lifted her fingers to her forehead and rubbed. The storm was closing in—she could feel it, and not just in the sky above her.
    “I know you don’t protect me.” She tried to focus, tried to examine the information and shook her head. “Just the other night, when we found out we’d lost our jobs, Matt was sympathetic, but you were brutal. I was ready to cry, but you made me so
angry
and—” She stared at him, understanding. She felt the color drain from her face. “You did it on purpose. You made me angry on purpose.”
    “You get more done when you’re angry,” he said flatly. “And you needed to get things done.”
    No denial.
    He’d goaded her. Galvanized her into action.
    “You challenge every idea I have.” She felt dizzy. “We fight. All the time. If I say something is black, you say it’s white.”
    He stood in silence, not bothering to deny it, and she shook her head in disbelief.
    “You make me angry. You do that on purpose because if I’m angry with you then