“How much older do they need to be before it feels terrific?” she asked, unable to keep the bitter note out of her voice. “How old is the average major league groupie, anyway?”
Elliott backed out of the room. “That’s my cue to leave. Ty, I’m ready when you are.”
“Five minutes,” Ty replied tightly, his gaze never leaving Annie.
When Elliott was gone, he shut the door, then locked it for good measure. Annie began to get the idea that she might have pushed him too far.
“A lock won’t keep Elliott out if I scream,” she warned.
Ty just stared at her and shook his head, looking hurt and bemused. “What is wrong with you? You know that the women I was involved with were just that, women. You also know I would never lay a hand on you in anger. I get that you’re mad at me, but you’re crossing a line, Annie.”
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