Wanted by Her Lost Love. Maya Banks

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steps backward, her arms curling protectively over her belly.

      He filled the doorway, looking as big and formidable as ever. Nothing had changed except for new lines around his mouth and eyes. His gaze stroked over her, piercing through any protective barriers she thought to construct. He’d always had a way of seeing right to the heart of her. Except when it mattered the most.

      Fresh grief flooded through her chest. Damn him. What else could he possibly want to do to hurt her? He’d already destroyed her.

      “Get out,” she said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. “Get out or I’ll call the police. I have nothing to talk to you about. Not now. Not ever.”

      “That’s too bad,” Ryan said as he stalked forward, “because I have plenty to talk to you about. Starting with whose baby you’re pregnant with.”

      Two

      Kelly willed herself not to rage at him. Instead, she looked calmly at him, coolly, while emotions boiled beneath the surface like molten lava ready to erupt. “It’s none of your business.”

      His nostrils flared. “It is if you’re carrying my baby.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. “Now why would you think that?”

      For a man only too willing to believe she’d slept around, it seemed pretty damn ridiculous that he’d barge into her apartment demanding to know whether or not her baby was his.

      “Damn it, Kelly, we were engaged. We lived together and were intimate often. I have a right to know if this is my child.”

      She raised an eyebrow and studied him for a moment. “There is no way to know. After all I was with so many other men, your brother included.” She shrugged nonchalantly and turned away from him, going into the kitchen.

      He was close on her heels and she could feel the anger emanating from him. “You’re a bitch, Kelly. A cold, calculating bitch. I gave you everything and you threw it away for a little gratuitous sex on the side.”

      She whipped around, the urge to hit him so strong that she had to curl her fingers into a fist to keep from doing just that. “Get out. Get out and don’t ever come back.”

      His eyes glittered with anger and frustration. “I’m not going anywhere, Kelly, not until you tell me what I want to know.”

      She bared her teeth. “It’s not your baby. Happy? Now go.”

      “Is it Jarrod’s then?”

      “Why don’t you ask him?”

      “We don’t talk about you,” he bit out.

      “Well, I don’t want to talk about either of you. I want you out of my apartment. It isn’t your baby. Get out of my life. I did as you asked. I got out of yours.”

      “You didn’t give me a choice.”

      She looked scornfully at him. “Choice? I don’t remember having a choice either. You made that choice for both of us.”

      He stared at her in disbelief. “You’re a piece of work, Kelly. Still the innocent martyr, I see.”

      She walked over to the door and opened it, looking expectantly at him.

      He didn’t move. “Why are you living this way, Kelly? I can’t wrap my head around why you did what you did. I would have given you everything. Hell, I still gave you a hefty amount of money when we broke up because I didn’t like to think of you being without. But now I find you living in squalor working a job that is far beneath your abilities.”

      A wave of hatred hit her hard. In this moment she realized that she truly loved and hated him in equal measure. Her chest hurt so bad that she couldn’t breathe. Her mind went back to the day when she’d stood in front of him, devastated, completely and utterly broken, while he scribbled his signature on a bank draft and disdainfully shoved it toward her.

      The look in his eyes had told her that he didn’t love her, had never loved her. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t have faith in her.

      When she’d needed him the absolute most, he’d let her down and treated her like a paid whore.

      She would never forgive him for that.

      She slowly turned and dragged herself over to the kitchen drawer where she kept the crumpled envelope containing the check. A reminder of broken dreams and ultimate betrayal. She’d looked at it often but had sworn she would never walk into a bank and cash it.

      She picked it up and walked back over to where he stood, his expression inscrutable. She crumpled the envelope into a ball and hurled it at him, hitting him in the cheek.

      “There’s your check,” she hissed. “Take it and get the hell out of my life.”

      He bent slowly and retrieved the balled-up envelope. He unfolded it and then opened it, taking out the worn check. He frowned and then stared back at her. “I don’t understand.”

      “You’ve never understood,” she whispered. “Since you won’t leave, I’m out of here.”

      Before he could stop her, she walked past him and slammed the door behind her.

      Ryan stared at the check in his hand in stunned disbelief, unable to formulate his thoughts. Why? She acted as though he was a piece of scum. What the hell had he ever done to her but make sure she was taken care of?

      He glanced around at the efficiency apartment, noting the disrepair and the cheapness of the furnishings. Two cabinet doors were barely hanging on their hinges and there was nothing inside. No food.

      With a frown he stalked to the refrigerator and threw open the door. He cursed when he saw only a carton of milk, half a package of cheese and ajar of peanut butter.

      He hastily rummaged through the rest of the kitchen, growing more furious when he found nothing more. How was she surviving? Furthermore, why was she living like this?

      He glanced back down at the check and shook his head. There were enough zeros in the amount for her to live a good, modest life for years to come.

      The ink had run in several places and it was smudged with fingerprints. But she’d never tried to cash it. Why? There were so many questions running around in his head that he couldn’t process them all.

      Did she feel guilty over what she’d done? Had she been ashamed to take money from him after betraying him?

      Not the best time to develop a conscience.

      One thing was for certain. He wasn’t leaving. There were too many unanswered questions and he wanted answers. Why was she here in this run-down place with a job that obviously didn’t net her enough money to feed herself, much less live a comfortable life? What in the world was she going to do when the baby came? Whether it was his baby or not, he couldn’t allow himself to walk away. Not when she had meant so much to him.

      She wasn’t taking care of herself. He had always taken care of her in the past and he would do it again. Whether she liked it or not.

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