Page 53 of Captivated
Step right up, ladies and gentlemen. Step right up and see an average man transformed into a puddle of nerves and terror by the love of a good woman.
He bent over the sink and splashed water on his face. He didn’t know how it had happened, but he was going to have to deal with it. As far as he could see, there was no place to run. He was a grown man, Nash reminded himself. So he would do the adult thing and face it.
Maybe he should just tell her. Straight out.
Morgana, I’m crazy about you.
Blowing out a breath, he dashed more water onto his face. Too weak. Too ambivalent.
Morgana, I’ve come to realize that what I feel for you is more than attraction. Even more than affection.
This time his breath hissed out. Too wordy. Too damn stupid.
Morgana, I love you.
Simple. To the point. And scary as hell.
He majored in scary, he reminded himself. He ought to be able to pull this off. Straightening his shoulders, bracing his system, he started out of the kitchen.
The wall phone shrilled and nearly had him jumping out of his shoes.
“Easy, boy,” he muttered.
“Nash?” Morgana stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes full of curiosity and concern. “Are you all right?”
“Me? Yeah, yeah, I’m great.” He dragged a nervous hand through his hair. “How about you?”
“Fine,” she said slowly. “Are you going to answer the phone?”
“The phone?” While his mind scattered in a thousand directions, he glanced at the ringing phone. “Sure.”
“Good. I’ll fix us that cold drink while you do.” Still frowning at him, she walked to the refrigerator.
Nash didn’t notice that his palms were wet until he picked up the receiver. Forcing a grin, he wiped his free hand on his jeans.
“Hello.” The excuse for a smile faded instantly. Stunned, Morgana paused with one hand on a soft-drink bottle and the other on the refrigerator door.
She’d never seen him look like this. Cold. His eyes had frosted over. Ice over velvet. Even as he leaned back against the counter, there was tension in every line of his body.
Morgana felt a shudder rush down her spine. She’d known he could be dangerous, and the man she was staring at now had stripped off all the easygoing charm and good-natured humor. Like one of the characters Nash might have conjured out of his imagination, this man was capable of quick and bloodless violence.
Whoever was on the other end of the telephone should have been grateful for the distance between them.
“Leeanne.” He said the name in a flat, gelid tone. The voice rattling brightly in his ear set his teeth on edge. Old memories, old wounds, swam to the surface. He let her ramble for a moment, until he was sure he had himself under control. “Just cut to the chase, Leeanne. How much?”
He listened to the wheedling, the whining, the recriminations. His responsibilities, he was reminded. His obligations. His family.
“No, I don’t give a damn. It’s not my fault you got hung up with another loser.” His lips curved in ahumorless smile. “Yeah, right. Bad luck. How much?” he repeated, barely lifting a brow at the requested amount. Resigned, he pulled open a drawer and rummaged until he found a tattered scrap of paper and the stub of an old pencil. “Where do I send it?” He scribbled. “Yes, I’ve got it. Tomorrow.” He tossed the paper onto the counter. “I said I would, didn’t I? Just drop it. I’ve got things to do. Sure. You bet.”
He hung up and started to let loose with a stream of oaths. Then he focused on Morgana. He’d forgotten she was there. When she started to speak, he shook his head.
“I’m going for a walk,” he said abruptly, and slammed out of the screen door.
Carefully Morgana set the bottle she still held on the counter. Whoever had called had done more than anger him, she realized. She had seen more than anger in his eyes. She had seen grief, too. One had been as vicious as the other.
Because of it, she blocked her first inclination, to go after him. She would give him a few minutes alone first.
His long strides ate up the ground quickly. He stalked over the grass that had given him so much pleasure when he had mowed it only an hour before, passed without noticing the flowers that were already lapping up the sun now that they were free of choking weeds. Automatically he headed for the tumble of rocks at the edge of his property that separated his land from the bay.
