at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘When?’ Abby withdrew her hand from his, twisting her fingers together in her lap. ‘That first day you came to the café, when you accused me of cheating on my husband? Or later, when, although you were making love to me, you were making it plain that you’d never trust a woman like me?’
Luke scowled. ‘What about the night you arranged to meet me at the wine bar? Couldn’t you have told me then?’
‘Oh, right.’ Abby gave a little cry and pushed herself up from the bed, raking trembling hands through her hair. ‘How would I have phrased that, I wonder?’
She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her expression pained.
‘Let me see, how about—by the way, Luke, I should have told you, I’m married. My husband is abusing me, but he’s only agreed to go on paying for my mother’s palliative care if I don’t tell anyone about it.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Yeah, I can quite see how that would have worked.’
Luke couldn’t listen to any more. He caught her wrist and pulled her down onto the bed again. Then, before he could stop himself, he hooked his hand behind her head and brought her mouth to his.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said against her lips. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been such a fool. Will you ever forgive me?’
He heard her catch her breath, but she didn’t draw back. And what began as an attempt to make amends for his past sins quickly became a hungry assault on his senses. It might have been weeks since he’d held her in his arms, but she felt so right there, and he didn’t want to let her go.
Ignoring the pain in his arm, he bore her back against the tumbled sheets and covered her with his body. The soft sweat pants he was wearing did nothing to disguise the erection pushing against the cotton, an erection that fitted so perfectly into the yielding juncture of her thighs.
One of her hands slid down between them, finding the throbbing pulse of his arousal before slipping inside his pants.
Her fingers closed around him and Luke’s senses spun.
He wanted her. Dear God, he wanted to be with her. Not just for now, but always. Did he have the right to feel this way? When he might be an invalid for the rest of his life?
No!
He was soon aware that he was in danger of losing what little self-respect he had left. When he pulled away, she was forced to release him, and for a moment he could only lie on his back beside her, striving for control.
When his breathing eventually steadied, he pushed himself up into a sitting position again. And from there, he used the crutch to haul himself to his feet and slowly make his way back to the chest of drawers.
This time he managed to get the drawer open, and he pulled out the sheaf of documents safe inside a green plastic file.
Then he turned and made his way back; but not to the bed. To his earlier position on the window seat.
‘LUKE?’ ABBY FROWNED, propping herself up on her elbows. ‘Why are you sitting over there?’
Luke pulled a wry face. ‘Because I don’t trust myself to sit beside you. Abby, much as I want to be with you, it’s not going to happen.’
Abby sat up then and stared at him. ‘What’s not going to happen?’
‘You. Me. Us.’ He avoided her eyes by bending over the file he’d collected from the drawer. ‘You must have wondered why I asked you to come and see me today.’
Abby frowned. ‘I was beginning to think it was because you’d come to your senses.’
‘Well, yes.’ Luke’s mouth twisted, and he cast her a rueful glance. ‘In a manner of speaking, you could be right.’ He paused. ‘Though not in the way you perhaps mean.’
Abby was tense now. ‘Go on,’ she said, half knowing she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
Meanwhile, Luke had drawn out a sheaf of official-looking documents, and, putting the plastic folder aside, he lifted his head and looked at her.
‘I suppose I should have had my solicitor do this,’ he said, ‘but I gave in to my desire to see you again and decided to speak to you myself.’
‘Speak to me about what?’ Abby was confused. ‘If this has something to with the accident—’
‘It has,’ he broke in before she could continue. ‘Apart from my obvious injuries, there are complications. I’m informed that, at the least, there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever regain the full use of my legs.’
‘So?’ Abby was confused. ‘You know I’ll be there for you, whatever happens.’
‘No.’ Luke’s tone was harsh. ‘Do you think I want you to spend the rest of your life looking after an invalid? I could spend half my life in a wheelchair. I don’t want that for you.’
Abby took a disbelieving breath. ‘And what about what I want?’
‘Abby, I know you mean well, but this isn’t something to be taken lightly. I haven’t even spoken to you about the other injuries I’ve had.’
‘I know they had to relieve the pressure on your brain by drilling a hole in your skull,’ said Abby defensively. ‘Your father said that had been a complete success.’
‘How would he know?’ Luke was impatient. ‘There are always doubts about how successful that kind of treatment has been.’
‘But your brain is working perfectly well,’ she insisted vehemently. ‘You know that.’
‘And what if I had a relapse? What if I became paralysed or worse?’
‘We’d face that if it happened.’ Abby sighed. ‘Don’t be pessimistic, Luke. No one knows what’s round the corner. Even me.’
‘Which is very brave of you, but you have to be practical.’ For a moment, his eyes dropped to the slight swell of her stomach and his lips compressed. ‘You’re going to have enough to cope with, what with the baby. I would only create more problems for you.’
Abby’s lips tightened. ‘You don’t think it’s more important for the baby—our baby—to know its father?’ she demanded. ‘Luke, the baby needs you. I need you. I love you. Isn’t that enough?’
Luke bent his head over the papers he was holding, and, instead of answering her, said, ‘I’ve made arrangements for you, and the baby. And I’ll get to them in a moment.’
‘Luke...’
‘But first, I want to tell you that the development will go ahead as planned. However, I’ve made certain amendments to my original drawings, which I think you’ll approve of.’
‘Luke, you shouldn’t be thinking about such things right now.’
