"So why didn't you ask me?" The words were as sharp as a stiletto.
She gave him a wry, humorless smile. "I did. Many times. You're a master at evasion, though. I've been to bed with you, but I don't know much more about you right now than I did the day we met."
He neatly sidestepped the charge by asking, "What made you feel uneasy? I never threatened you, never pushed you. You know I own and run my company, that I'm solvent and not on the run." "You just did it again," she pointed out. "Your ability to evade is very good. It took me a while to catch on, but then I noticed that you didn't answer my questions. You always responded, so it wasn't obvious, but you'd just ask your own question and ignore mine."
He surveyed her silently for a moment before saying, "I'm not interested in talking about myself. I already know all the details."
"I'd say that the same holds true for me, wouldn't you?" she asked sweetly. "I wanted to know about you, and got nowhere. But I didn't have you investigated."
"I wouldn't have minded if you had." Not that she would have been able to find out much, he thought.
Great chunks of his life after high school graduation weren't to be found in public records.
"Bully for you. I minded."
"And that's it? You walked out on me and broke off our relationship because you were angry that I had you investigated? Why didn't you just yell at me? Throw things at me? For God's sake, Elizabeth, don't you think you took it a little far?"
His tone was both angry and incredulous, making it plain that he considered her reaction to be nothing short of hysteric, far out of proportion to the cause.
She froze inside, momentarily paralyzed by the familiar ploy of being made to feel that she was in the wrong, that no matter what happened it was her fault for not being good enough. But then she fought the memories back; she would never let anyone make her feel that way again. She had gotten herself back, and she knew her own worth. She knew she hadn't handled the matter well, but only in the way she had done it; the outcome itself had never been in question.
Her voice was cool when she replied. "No, I don't think I took it too far. I'd been feeling uneasy about you for quite a while. Finding that you had investigated me was the final factor, but certainly not all of it."
"Because I hadn't answered a few questions?" That incredulous note was still there.
"Among other things."
"Such as?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. "Such as your habit of taking over, of ignoring my objections or suggestions as if I hadn't even said anything."
"Objections to what?" Now the words were as sharp as a lash. His blue eyes were narrowed and vivid. A bit surprised, she realized that he was angry again.
She waved her hand in a vague gesture. "Any little thing. I didn't catalog them--" "Surprises the hell out of me," he muttered.
"But you were constantly overriding me. If I told you I was going shopping, you insisted that I wait until you could go with me. If I wanted to wear a sweater when we were going out, you insisted that I wear a coat. Damn it, Quinlan, you even tried to make me change where I bank!''
His eyebrows rose. "The bank you use now is too far away. The one I suggested is much more convenient."
"For whom? If I'm perfectly happy with my bank, then it isn't inconvenient for me, is it?"
"So don't change your bank. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal," she said slowly, choosing her words, "is that you want to make all the decisions, handle everything yourself. You don't want a relationship, you want a dictatorship."
One moment he was lounging comfortably, long legs sprawled out in front of him; the next he was in front of her, bending over to plant his hands on the arms of her chair and trap her in place. Elizabeth stared up at him, blinking at the barely controlled rage in his face, but she refused to let herself shrink from him. Instead she lifted her chin and met him glare for glare.
"I don't believe it!" he half shouted. "You walked out on me because I wanted you to change banks? God in heaven." He shoved himself away from the chair and stalked several paces away, running his hand through his hair.
"No," she shouted back, "I walked out because I refuse to let you take over my life!" She was unable to sit still, either, and surged out of the chair. Instantly Quinlan whirled with those lightning-quick reactions of his, catching her arms and hauling her close to him, so close that she could see the white flecks in the deep blue of his irises and smell the hot, male scent of his body. Her nostrils flared delicately as she instinctively drank in the primal signal, even though she stiffened against his touch.
"Why didn't you tell me you were married before?"
The question was soft, and not even unexpected, but still she flinched. Of course he knew; it had been in that damn investigative report.
"It isn't on my list of conversational topics," she snapped. "But neither is it a state secret. If our rela- tionship had ever progressed far enough, I would have told you then. What was I supposed to do, trot out my past life the minute we met?"
Quinlan watched her attentively. As close as they were, he could see every flicker of expression on her face, and he had noticed the telltale flinch even though she had replied readily enough. Ah, so there was something there.
"Just how far did our relationship have to go?" he asked, still keeping his voice soft. "We weren't seeing anyone else. We didn't actually have sex until that last night together, but things got pretty hot between us several times before that." "And I was having doubts about you even then," she replied just as softly.