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Page 179
"How can you say that? After our moment of tenderness?" He poured coffee for himself.
"What a hateful man you are," she said hotly.
"No argument," Morgan said. "We'll talk about it sometime, and you can psychoanalyze me. But not now." Her eyes are such a dark blue they look almost black in this light, he thought.
Anna watched Morgan intently. She tasted the coffee, made a face, and set the mug down on the table. "I'm asking for a truce. Something terrible is going on, isn't it? I don't mean just to Pierre, and you, and me. Something bigger."
"I don't know," Morgan said. "Possibly."
"Those men in the car following us. You killed them."
"It seems that I did."
Anna shuddered, and the response made Morgan angry. Protect me, but don't injure anyone in the process. Christ, he thought, what was it with these people? On what planet did they live their utopian lives?
Anna walked to the window and looked out, blinking away hot tears. I did it again, after all those firm resolutions, she thought unhappily. As if making love was going to save me from my demons. What in God's name is Morgan thinking behind that poker face? His contempt was only thinly disguised. Probably that I'm a fool, she thought. She studied the weed-lined runways of the airport, the colorful array of private airplanes tied down just inside the fence between the field and Highway 1. The sight brought a sudden and powerful memory of Sean McCarthy. She flushed with guilt. She had not given thought to Sean since leaving the hospital. Her couplings with him were meaningless. And what was she to say about the explosive encounter with this stranger? Intimate? Empty? Intimate emptiness.
Morgan watched her, trying to stay emotionally uninvolved. She seemed very far away again, in that private zone. He wanted to bring her back, to here and now, to him.

 
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