Chapter 11
She was curled into a ball, wondering how to edge away from him and gather up her clothing as well as her dignity.
As if sensing her thoughts, Cade shifted so that she was sprawled on top of him.
"Please take me home."
"If you tell me you regret--"
"I do. Take me home, Cade. This was a mistake."
Anger shimmered, replacing the passion that had grabbed hold and clung to him like a well-worn cloak.
"Then you're a goddamned hypocrite. Even now, I can feel your heart trembling." His eyes held hers. "How can you say--"
"That it's a mistake?" Her eyes flared. "Because it is. I made one five years ago by following you like a docile mouse and let you seduce me."
His eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you saying that our daughter was a mistake?"
"Don't!" Curling her hands into fists, she beat them against his chest. "My daughter was the only good thing that came of that night."
The silence that followed her impassioned statement was fraught with tension. She was still in his arms. He was still buried deep inside her and even though he could feel the anger coursing through him, he was still hard, still yearning.
"I'm in love with you." He had not meant to say it, but it just came out, and he could not take it back.
Her eyes widened and then narrowed. "What do you expect me to say to that?"
Despair coated him like a wet blanket. "Evidently nothing." Plucking her off him, he nudged her over to the passenger side and started to pull on his clothing. "I'll take you home."
Abby sat hunched into one corner of the vehicle as he made the turn, her face almost pressed to the glass.
Tears formed at the back of her eyes and refused to spill.
How dare he say that to her now! Five years ago, she would have begged him for a declaration of love.
Five years ago, she would have done anything for him.
But not now. Pressing her lips together to compose herself, she started to open the door, then stopped.
"You have a reputation." She spoke tonelessly.
"Telling me you love me makes me question your motive.
It makes me wonder if you think I'm so hard up for love that I would fall at your feet when you say the words and hand over my daughter.
I'm no longer the na?ve girl you took to bed and seduced beyond reason. I've had to grow up pretty fast."
Every single word she spoke was like a sharp two-edged sword tearing him to pieces and leaving him bleeding.
If she had set out to get her revenge, she had achieved it.
For a moment, he did not say anything. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he looked straight ahead.
Her scent was still inside his nostrils.
He could still feel the imprint of her slender curves against his.
He had made a declaration of love for the first time in his life and had it flung back in his face. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. Drawing on a reserve of pride and self-preservation, he nodded curtly.
"Get out."
Barely waiting for her to slam the door shut, he floored the accelerator in his haste to get away from her.
Wrapping her hands around her waist in defense, she watched the taillights disappear, tears burning her eyes and making her throat ache.
Hoping she would not encounter any family member, she bolted for the front door and ran inside.
Her breath came in short, shaky bursts as she leaned against the closed door, listening for any sound that might signal someone had heard her arrive.
The house was silent, save for the ticking of the hall clock, offering no comfort but at least granting her a moment's solitude.
She pressed her forehead to the cool wood, letting herself feel the weight of the night before forcing herself to straighten and move further inside, determined not to show any sign of her turmoil to anyone who might still be awake.
Locking the doors behind her, she crept upstairs and felt like a teenager coming in after curfew, something she had never done before.
Heading straight for the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes and deviated from habit. She left them strewn on the floor. Crawling under the shower, she allowed the water to beat down on her back and the tears to fall.
The bastard! She thought passionately. The sick bastard.
How dare he say those words to her? As if she would gobble them down and simply open her arms wide.
She had learned her lesson, hadn't she? From a wide-eyed college graduate to a very successful entrepreneur.
She didn't need his brand of charm and his so-called love. He didn't know the meaning of the word.
The cooling water had her staggering to her feet and turning off the tap. Stepping out, she wrapped a towel around her and wondered at how cold she was.
Dropping the damp towel on the tiled floor, she put on a robe and went into her bedroom. Sliding between the sheets, she sat up against the headboards and wrapped her arms around her drawn up knees.
She was contemplating making the effort to go and make some tea when her door was pushed open. Her brother stepped in wearing casual jogging pants and a white tee.
"What're you doing here?" The annoyance in her voice had him raising his thick brows. Crossing the room, he got in next to her.
"I still have a room here." Shifting so he could look at her, he tugged at the damp ends of her hair. "Must be bad."
"What?"
"Whatever it is that's eating away at you."
"I miss Zoe." She muttered defensively and had him turning her to face him.
"Must be a hell of a lot to have you using your daughter. You're forgetting that my old room faces the driveway."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"About what? The fact that you went somewhere with Tyrell and came back looking very disheveled?" He asked in amusement. "How was it?"
She sent him a murderous look before shifting and putting space between them.
"Why don't we talk about the very deliberate way you and Jillian tried to avoid each other?
And the fact that you who never spend time away from that cozy apartment of yours, is spending the night here?
" She asked sweetly. "The last time we spoke, Jillian was going to try and seduce you. What happened, Dre, or should I guess?"
This time, he was the one to put space between them.
A frown marred his brow as he stretched his legs out and leaned his head back.
"We had something and now it's over."
Abigail gave him a disgusted look and a poke in the arm hard enough to have him wincing. "You complete idiot. Why on earth can't you see you belong together? Are you going to allow that bitch Marcie to dictate the rest of your life?"
"I could ask you the same thing." He pointed out dryly.
"My circumstance is different." She muttered. "He cannot waltz back into my life after what he did and expect me to fall at his feet. That by saying he loves me--" She cried out sharply when he grabbed her arm. "What the hell!"
"Tyrell told you he loves you?"
"So?" She angled her head, expression mutinous.
"And what did you say to that?"
"I told him to go to hell, that I was not the na?ve girl back then. I grew up."
Amusement coated his face. "I admire your spunk. But what do you really feel about him?"
"Contempt and nothing more." His raised brows caused her to shift restlessly. "Okay, there might be an attraction."
"Just an attraction?"
"I don't care if there's anything more. I will not be making the same mistake again."
Letting go of her arm, he linked his hands between his thighs and stared at a Jackson Colby painting above the fireplace. The bold splash of color was the man's signature style and had him wondering what the hell the painting was supposed to represent.
"I don't know what to do about Jillian." His quiet admission had her staring at him.
"You're an educated man."
Turning his head, he sent her a dry look. "I'm afraid that what we shared will end badly. She means too much to me for me to want that to happen."
She touched his arm briefly. "You're overthinking things. She's loved you for years."
He felt a jolt at that. "I messed up royally. Told her we had to take a step back." He slid her a glance. "Mentioned that you're going through a lot and I had to be there for you."
"Oh, Andre."
He hunched his shoulders defensively. "It was getting too intense and I was damned scared." Lifting a hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Now she refuses to talk to me. I had no idea she would have come."
"She never missed a Thanksgiving dinner."
"No." He shook his head. "Ours is the only family she knows."
"That's right." She rubbed his arm. "You need to make it right."
"And your thing?"
"Is pretty complicated. Besides, after what I said to Cade, I doubt he ever wanted to speak to me again."
He gave her a curious stare that had her squirming. "Not that I care."
"You do. One, he's the father of your little girl and I think you're denying or burying what you really feel.
The Abby I know would never be with a man she cares nothing about.
" He tilted her chin up. "I'm certainly not in a position to tell you what to do.
My own personal life is a living testimony to that fact.
But for Zoe's sake, try and find some sort of a middle ground.
You're holding onto the past." He shook his head with a grim smile.
"Yes. Pot. Kettle. Christ, what a pair we are.
" He tugged her into his arms. "How about we sit here for a minute or two and not think about the two people tormenting our souls?
What do you think of the Red Sox and their chances in the final? "
He drew a startled burst of laughter from her that eased the tension inside the room.
*****
It took everything in him to pretend that he wasn't dying inside. He had barely managed to get to his suite and washed off the scent of sex and put something on when his daughter came racing into the room to show off her painted nails.