What he had to say, to ask, was far too important to blurt out in anger, or in retaliation for whatever she threw at him. Given what he’d put her through, he deserved it.
“You haven’t asked why we’re headed to the airport,” he said abruptly.
Her mouth was half-open, ready for a retort, but then it closed. As she thought, her lower lip pushed out, almost like pouting but far sexier because it was natural. Like her sensuality, it was so much a part of her she didn’t think about it.
Suddenly his body reminded him that it had been a long time since she’d shown him the full extent of that loving sensuality. He ached with the need for her touch, for the beauty of their union—and even more he ached for the connection that, to him, meant he’d found his one and only, the commitment to forever he’d made in his heart the night she’d said the words he’d cherish all his life. “All I want is you.”
A shaft of pain pierced him like a gunshot, as he thought of the way she’d loved him right from the moment she’d tripped and landed at his feet the first day. She’d looked up, laughing at her clumsiness, willing to share the joke against herself in a way he’d come to know was uniquely Julie. Then the look in her eyes turned to wonder as she saw him. “Here’s my number,” she’d said within a minute in that adorable accent of hers, writing with a permanent marker on his hand. “And here’re my lips,” she’d whispered when she’d finished writing. She’d kissed him with a sweetness and desire he’d never known in his life. It was so amazing he’d forgotten they were in the middle of a milling crowd on a busy city street. He’d forgotten he was in a convenient, please-the-parents relationship with Elise, and he’d vowed never to cheat on a woman in his life. He hadn’t been able to think beyond the moment, the woman whose name he hadn’t even known. He’d drawn her into his arms and kissed her right back.
She hadn’t known his name, either. For the first time a woman hadn’t known he was Matthew McLachlan of McLachlan Marine Industries, one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors. And when on their second date he’d told her, she’d said, “Oh?”, with a semblance of polite interest when she so obviously didn’t care that it had made him laugh out loud, something he’d rarely done in his lifetime. “So does that mean I don’t have to worry about how you’re going to pay for dinner?”
And she’d stood by him after his father’s sudden death eight weeks later, and he’d discovered how deep the problems at McLachlan’s ran. The mess in which his father had left the business with schemes and investments that had failed time after time.
“I never had wealth in my life to care about, Matt,” she’d said, holding him close. “I care if it hurts you—but whether you want to save the business or you want to start over—no matter what, I’ll still be here.” And then she’d said those beautiful words he’d never forget. “All I want is you.”
He was about to test “no matter what,” and “all I want is you” to their limits. Would she still be here tomorrow? Would he still be all she wanted? Would she want him at all?
“So, why are we going to the airport?”
In their fourteen months together, he’d never heard such a distant tone from her.
He exited onto the airport turnoff. They were almost there. He swallowed the bitter bile rising in his throat and said the words he’d rehearsed ever since he’d recruited The Belles to help him “kidnap” her. “I realise this is terrible timing. I wouldn’t blame you if you never want to see me again. But I’m asking you not to walk away, not today. I need you, Julie.”
After a few moments, she asked, simply, “Why?”
There was nothing else to do but blurt it out. “My ex, Kirsten, was married on Saturday—”
“You…you were married?” The shock, the pain of quick jealousy in her voice made him want to hit himself, and yet a small part of him rejoiced. What a stupid jerk to shock her like that—but she wouldn’t feel any pain, surely, unless she still cared?
“No,” he was quick to reassure her. “We never married. Kirsten’s my ex-girlfriend. But that isn’t the point. We had—have a child together. Molly’s seven, and she’s on her way to stay with me for two weeks while Kirsten and Dan are on their honeymoon. Her plane lands in an hour.”
CHAPTER THREE
ONE moment passed, then two, before Julie made a small, choking sound, then another and another. “You…you…?” Further words were impossible, as she doubled over herself, coughing and spluttering.
But as she choked on her words, she couldn’t stop them going round and round in her head. He has a daughter?
She must have spoken them aloud at some point, for he answered in a restrained, polite tone that made her long to biff him over the head. “Yes. I should have told you about Molly long ago. I didn’t. There’s no excuse I can give you.”
Somehow she found her voice, even if it came out as a croak half-lost in a cough. “Just like that?” The words came out strangled as she coughed again and again, choking on saliva.
He must have pulled the car over sometime in the past minute, because she felt the stillness around her, and a gentle hand patting her back. He didn’t speak until her fit subsided. “What do you want me to say?”
“Maybe an apology, an excuse, a reason?” was all she managed in reply.
He frowned at her, as if she’d said something stupid. “What reason could I have? What excuse would work? Would an apology help you feel better, or make me any less of a jerk for not telling you about Molly before?”
Strangely his admission that he’d acted badly only made her angrier with him. “Maybe not— though it might have helped to have had some preparation time to meet her, say, a bit more than an hour?” She coughed a final few times and finally felt clear—at least in her throat and lungs. “You’re right, nothing could make you less of a jerk now, but it doesn’t mean I don’t deserve an apology, does it?”
“No. I should have told you earlier, Julie. I’m sorry.”
She kept her gaze on her hands, formed into fists on her lap. She mumbled, “Of course you are. Such a gentleman.” The words sounded sarcastic, even to her ears. She’d expected the words—but right now, she didn’t feel like forgiving him.
As if in echo of her thoughts, he said, “Don’t think it, Julie. Say it. Say what you’re feeling, about Molly—and about me.”
That was the trouble. There were too many things she wanted to say, to ask. Would he know the answers? Did she want to hear them?
Suddenly she felt tired of living in this limbo. She hated feeling so cold, so numb inside, filled with fear and regret, not knowing what was going on between them or why. Even the shock running through her veins was better than the nothingness. It was time. She had to know.
“Is that where you went when you flew out of Boston those few times, and didn’t want me to come?”
He nodded. “I don’t see enough of Molly, but I fly down to spend time with her whenever
