Unfinished Business by Nora Roberts

his hands on her shoulders and stepped back.
    â€œThat’s not a good idea.” When her mouth turned into a pout, he nearly groaned.
    â€œA few hours ago, you seemed to think it was a very good idea.” She shrugged his hands off her shoulders before she turned. “Apparently you’re still a lot of talk and no action.”
    He spun her around quickly, threats hovering on his tongue. As she watched, the livid fury in his eyes died to a smolder. “You still know what buttons to push.”
    She tilted her head. “And you don’t.”
    He slipped a hand around her throat. “You’re such a brat.” When she tossed back her head, he was tempted to give her throat just one quick squeeze. He reminded himself that he was a doctor. “It would serve you right if I dragged you upstairs and made love to you until you were deaf, dumb and blind.”
    She felt a thrill of excitement mixed with alarm. What would it be like? Hadn’t she wondered since the first moment she’d seen him again? Maybe it was time to be reckless.
    â€œI’d like to see you try.”
    Desire seared through him as he looked at her, her head thrown back, her eyes hooded, her mouth soft and sulky. He knew what it would be like. Damn her. He’d spent hours trying not to imagine what now came all too clearly to his mind. In defense he took a step backward.
    â€œDon’t push it, Van.”
    â€œIf you don’t want me, why—?”
    â€œYou know I do,” he shouted at her as he spun away. “Damn it, you know I always have. You make me feel like I’m eighteen and itchy again.” When she took a step forward, he threw up a hand. “Just stay away from me.” He snatched up his beer and took a long, greedy swallow. “You can take the bed,” he said more calmly. “I’ve got a sleeping bag I can use down here.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œThe timing stinks.” He drained the beer and tossed theempty bottle into a five-gallon drum. It shattered. “By God, if we’re going to have another shot at this, we’re going to do it right. Tonight you’re upset and confused and unhappy. You’re angry with your mother, and you’re not going to hate me for taking advantage of all of that.”
    She looked down at her hands and spread them. He was right. That was the hell of it. “The timing’s never been right for us, has it?”
    â€œIt will be.” He put a hand on either side of her face. “You can count on it. You’d better go up.” He dropped his hands again. “Being noble makes me cranky.”
    With a nod, she started toward the stairs. At the base, she stopped and turned. “Brady, I’m really sorry you’re such a nice guy.”
    He rubbed at the tension at the back of his neck. “Me, too.”
    She smiled a little. “No, not because of tonight. You’re right about tonight. I’m sorry because it reminds me how crazy I was about you. And why.”
    Pressing a hand to the ache in his gut, he watched her go upstairs. “Thanks a lot,” he said to himself. “That’s just what I needed to hear to make sure I don’t sleep at all tonight.”
    Â 
    Vanessa lay in Brady’s bed, tangled in Brady’s sheets. The dog had deserted him to sleep at her feet. She could hear the soft canine snoring as she stared into the deep, deep country dark.
    Would she—could she—have gone through with her invitation to come to this bed with him? A part of her yearned to. A part of her that had waited all these years to feel as only he could make her feel.
    Yet, when she had offered herself to him, she had done so recklessly, heedlessly, and in direct opposition to her own instinct for survival.
    She had walked away from him just this evening, angry, even insulted, at his cocky insistence that they would become lovers. What kind of sense did it make for her to have