Free Surrender by Metsy Hingle

Aimee to him. And the look that the other man sent Peter was a definite warning. “Come along, Liza,” Jacques said, nudging Liza’s shoulder and urging her to leave. He paused. “You have only to call out if you need me, mon amie.”
    “She won’t need you,” Peter assured him through gritted teeth. Irritated by the other man’s protective instincts toward Aimee, he watched the duo leave the shop.
    “All right, Peter. It’s just the two of us now. So, why don’t you explain to me what kind of game it is you’re playing?”
    Exasperated, Peter shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m not playing any games. I’m going to take your work on at my gallery.”
    “Why?”
    “What do you mean, why?”
    “I mean, why now? Why the sudden change of heart? A week ago, you wouldn’t even look at my work. You still haven’t looked at any of it. And yet you’re suddenly willing to represent me?”
    “Yes,” Peter said, growing impatient with Aimee’s insistence that he provide her with a reasonable explanation for his actions. He couldn’t. Hell, how could he explain it to her, when he couldn’t even explain to himself why he had made the offer?
    “So, why did you change your mind?”
    Peter remained silent. What could he tell her? That he hadn’t wanted to rep her work because he didn’t trust her? That even though he had decided to back off on his own rule about mixing business and pleasure and take her on as a client, his reasons for doing so had nothing to do with her work? He still didn’t trust her not to use him. He was sure she would if he gave her the chance. But he wasn’t ready to let go of her. At least not yet. Not until he got the building. And not until he sated this need for her that burned so hotly in his blood.
    “I’m not buying the brooding silence, Peter. You owe me an answer.”
    But any answers he gave her would hurt her. And he didn’t want to hurt her…not again. He didn’t want to see pain mirrored in her eyes. Because it would cause her pain if he told her the truth. He didn’t trust her. He would never trust her, or any woman, ever again.
    “Say something,” she demanded.
    “What do you want me to say?”
    “I want you to tell me why you changed your mind. Why now?”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “It does to me.” Her eyes searched his for answers, answers he would not give her. “Tell me the truth, Peter. An hour ago, if I had asked you to rep my paintings at your gallery, what would your answer have been?”
    “Dammit, Aimee. What difference does it—”
    “What would your answer have been?”
    Looking into her pale blue eyes, Peter couldn’t lie to her. “No. I would have said no.”
    “That’s what I thought.”
    “But it doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I’m going to give you the chance you wanted. I’m going to place your work in Gallagher’s.” Her silence made him uneasy, caused the fears rumbling around inside him to resurface. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
    “It’s what I wanted at one time,” she said softly, sadly. “Now I’m not so sure. After all, you said yourself, I’m hardly another Leslie.”
    He heard the hurt in her voice, and it tore at him, because he realized he had caused it. He felt like a bastard, and he could gladly have wrung Stephen Edmond’s neck for his insinuations. “I would never want you to be another Leslie,” he told her, pulling her close. “Never.”
    His ex-wife had been beautiful, talented, and as cunning as a fox. She had used him, drained him, and then dumped him as soon as a better opportunity came along.
    “Then why are you willing to represent me now, when you wouldn’t even consider it before?”
    “Because I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted honestly.
    She tipped her head to one side and looked up at him, her brows creasing as though she didn’t understand him.
    Releasing her, Peter shoved his hands through his hair. He paced up and down before her, feeling like a