would remind her how sweet their lovemaking had been. Sweet seemed too tame a word for what they’d shared.
As simple a thing as it was, she’d called him Ross again rather than Dr. Lane. Hearing his name on her lips pleased him way too much.
“Tonight? After your shift?” A wise man would get a commitment on a date and time. Ross was no fool.
“Tonight is as good a time as any,” she sighed, her face pale as if she was battling nausea. “I want to get this over with.”
Her tone made going to dinner with him sound worse than having root-canal treatment. Did she dislike him so much?
“Not that I’m not grateful you said yes, albeit with less enthusiasm than one would hope for, but why did you?”
“A glutton for punishment, obviously.” She laughed a laugh he recognized as one full of irony. “But we both know you weren’t going to let up until I said yes. Meet me at Julian’s just down the street about thirty minutes after my shift change. A quick dinner. Nothing else.”
She wasn’t happy about agreeing to go but at least she’d said yes and that was a start. He’d take whatever crumbs she tossed his way until he convinced her he had seriously missed her.
Clinging to the fact that he was having dinner with her, he smiled. “You need my number in case you get stuck working late?”
“No, Dr. Lane.” Deep furrows cut into her forehead with her glare. “I figured out your number a long time ago.”
Brielle was late arriving to Julian’s, but she didn’t call or text Ross to let him know. Despite her claim, she didn’t have his number, not his cellular phone number at any rate.
Sheer stubbornness had prevented her from taking it earlier when he’d offered. That and her need to put him in his place even if it had only been a short-lived balm on the mega-blows he had delivered her way.
Maybe he’d have left already.
No such luck. She paused in the entrance of the restaurant, easily spotting where he sat in a back booth. A waitress stood next to the table, her pretty face bright with interest in whatever Ross was saying, her gaze eating him up.
Some things never changed.
Not that Brielle blamed the young girl. There was no denying that he was a beautiful man. He was. Yet Ross’s appeal went so much further than the deep blue of his eyes, the coal-black allure of his soft, thick hair, the strong lines of his tanned face, the width of his broad shoulders or the taper of his narrow hips. His appeal came from the sharp intelligence that quickly became apparent when in his presence, from the witty humor that was always just beneath the surface, the charm that bubbled over without him even trying, the smile that dug dimples into his cheeks and made a woman need to smile back.
Based on the waitress’s high-pitched laughter and flushed cheeks, Brielle guessed Ross’s charm was bubbling. Although he was probably just being friendly, the sight brought her back to when she’d gone to Boston.
Just as now, he hadn’t known she was there, watching him. What had been the point? He’d told her he wanted nothing else to do with her. He’d meant his words when he’d told her he was done. Some crazy part of her had clung to the belief that he’d realize he made a mistake, that they were good together, meant to be together always and for ever. Seeing him kiss the blonde when she’d still thought of him as hers had driven his words home as perhaps nothing else could have.
She’d fled heartbroken, pregnant, and uncertain about her future.
Perhaps she should have told him about her pregnancy anyway, but she hadn’t been thinking clearly, had only wanted to get far away.
Later, when her emotions had settled somewhat, she’d made the decision to take him at his word, to let him have the life he’d said he wanted and had chosen over her.
Ross had no idea he had a son.
Or did he?
Nausea hit her. Hard. The room spun. Clamminess coated her skin with hot moisture. She dropped onto a bench meant for waiting customers. Wave after wave of fear slammed into her and she thought she was going to throw up.
“Brielle? Are you okay?” Concern poured from Ross, his expression worried and his voice gentle.
She blinked at him, shocked to see him so close. Obviously he’d noticed her and had left the table to check on her. He sat on the bench next to her, his hand on her face as if checking for a fever.
“Brielle?” he repeated, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t respond other than to stare at him.
Had Ross come to Bean’s Creek to claim his son?
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