He chuckled.
She was whipping herself up into a drama, so caught in everyone else’s troubles she couldn’t see what was happening around her.
She couldn’t see that he, long since, had stopped using her and started courting her.
She couldn’t see that even though she pretended she wanted less of him, she never left, not last night, not this morning, not the first night they met, not any time before and not now.
She couldn’t see that she hid something splendid (if a little warped and certainly a habit he needed to break her of), an act of such selflessness it was breathtaking, when telling him would have ended their battles days ago.
At his chuckle, her eyes flared.
“What’s so damned funny?” she snapped, in a flash moving from despair to anger.
“Would you have taken the money from Paul and slept with him for it?” Colin asked, watching her closely, knowing her answer and trying to hide his mirth.
“Paul?” She blinked, momentarily confused.
“The drunk from the club.”
“No! How could you even think –?”
“Your medic?” Colin persisted.
“My… Steve?” Her eyes narrowed. “Of course not. And he’s not my medic.” This was said with extreme distaste as if the thought was beyond foul.
Her reaction satisfied Colin tremendously.
He shook it off and charged on, “Can you think of anyone, besides me, who you would have taken the money from, sold your body to for a minibus?”
This stopped her. She froze and glowered at him. Then her eyes narrowed again and he could swear (to his immense relief) he saw the dawning of understanding.
Then, to his surprise and extreme displeasure, she said, “Yes.”
“Who?” he clipped.
“Clark Gable!” she announced and tried to slip out from under him but he hauled her back, this time, he was no longer chuckling but laughing, his entire body shaking with it.
Then Colin informed her helpfully when he had his humour under control, “I think, darling, you’ll find he’s dead,”
“Well,” she muttered huffily, “I would have taken it from him when he was alive, of course, during his Gone with the Wind years.”
“I’m in good company then,” Colin muttered as he dropped to his side and pulled her against his body.
“It’s time for you to answer some questions now,” she demanded, recovering quickly from her drama and spearing him with her eyes.
He dipped his chin to look at her, giving her his full attention.
“What do you want to know?” he asked without hesitation.
“This Royce and Beatrice business, you and me, what am I to you now? What does that mean to us?”
“We have seven months to figure it out.”
Her body stilled and her eyes, emerald before, started shifting back to hazel. This, he was beginning to interpret, when not just her norm, was when she was confused, mildly upset or melancholy.
“So nothing has changed?” she asked.
He shook his head and she bit her lip, her eyes sliding to the side, away from his, trying to mask her disappointed reaction. It took every ounce of his willpower not to grin.