Chapter 12
After a full minute of pulsing silence, Zane wondered if he should be the one to fill it. Before the thought could be fully formed, Kara spoke.
"Well, you've met my mother. Charming, isn't she? She will probably hold me in contempt for two to three weeks and freeze me out. I'm sorry."
"Kara-" Before he could finish, she burst into tears.
His heart stuttered and his emotions took a slow dive. If there was one thing he hated, it was a woman in tears, especially one he cared about deeply.
After a few seconds of indecision and being rooted to the spot, he moved fast. Scooping her into his arms, he turned and went straight upstairs to the bedroom.
She clung, her fingers gripping his shirt and soaking it with her bitter tears, tears that showed no signs of ceasing.
Toeing off his shoes, he climbed into bed and cradled her like a baby, hands stroking her back, her neck, her hair.
Each sob tore through his chest and made him feel angry and helpless.
What the hell could he say to her? How the hell could a mother talk to her child like that?
He wanted to find the woman and tear a strip out of her.
But he had no business butting into another person's family deal, even if that person was a woman he had fallen in love with. Christ! he thought viciously. What a goddamned mess.
"Hush now, baby," he whispered, trying to get her to calm down. "You're going to make yourself sick. Nobody is worth that."
The tears abated slightly. He continued rubbing her back slowly, hypnotically.
Kara felt the exhaustion taking hold of her.
She supposed everything was in an upheaval.
First, the piles and piles of really great sex, and then her mother topping it off by humiliating her in front of the man who had managed to blow the top of her head off.
Closing her eyes, she wondered why he wasn't making a beeline for the door. Yet, here he was, trying to comfort her. Humiliation turned on a dime to wonder and then contentment. She had no idea when she drifted off.
It was a few minutes before he heard her even breathing, indicating that she had fallen asleep.
Easing her away carefully, he studied the tear-blotched face and the spiky lashes. She looked so vulnerable and small. The urge to snatch her up and carry her where no one could hurt her was overwhelming.
Bending his head, he pressed a kiss on her forehead before easing her onto the pillows. The bed was still a wreck after the marathon lovemaking, and he wondered if this was the first time she had left it unmade.
Taking the soft shoes off, he tugged the sheets over her and just lay on his side, watching her. Her eyes were swollen from the crying jag. Using two fingers, he pushed back the lock of curl that had fallen over her forehead. She was going to have a bitch of a headache when she woke up.
Pushing off the bed, he rose slowly and decided he could use some of that bracing air. He had noticed the balcony off her bedroom. It would be as good a place as any to take a smoke. He didn't want to leave in case she woke up and needed him.
He wanted to be needed by her. It was his yearning to be needed. Making his way downstairs, he dug into his jacket pocket and came up with the case of cigars. He didn't normally cart it around with him, but he had been wearing this jacket since the weather changed.
Selecting one of the thin cigars, he went into the kitchen and noticed the leftover meal. Picking up the cartons, he dumped them out and did a half-decent job of tidying up. He was beginning to know her. She might have changed up things drastically, but under it all, she was as neat as a pin.
Being down here reminded him of the horrible scene he had been a witness to, the woman spewing her vile accusations.
His mouth tightened as he ran the washcloth over the tiled counter.
Feeling the anger coursing through him afresh, he dumped the cloth, grabbed his case of cigars and a lighter, and headed back up.
He spent another few minutes staring at her.
The sheet had shifted, and she was now turned onto her side.
Turning away, he strolled to the glass doors and slid them open.
A fresh blast of air hit him full on. The scent of rain was mixed with flowers still in their heyday.
Trees dripped moisture, leaves bent over by the rain earlier on.
Clamping the cigar between his teeth, he cupped his hands and lit it, inhaling the fragrant smoke.
Shoving the case and lighter into his jacket pocket, he went and leaned on the rail, his eyes narrowed against the smoke. He could try and forget about the ugly scene, or he could ask her to talk about it.
He wasn't usually one for heart-to-hearts. He tended to stay clear. But this woman, one he had met just a few weeks ago, tugged and wrapped around his heart like no one else.
The wind tugged at his already tangled hair and shifted his jacket. He should have been cold by now, but he was too angry to feel anything but the heat from that anger coursing through his body.
He wasn't a violent man normally, or at least that's what he told himself.
He could hold his own during a fistfight.
He was an expert in the art of hand-to-hand combat and dabbled in jujitsu.
He never backed down from a fight, ever.
His anger was slow in coming, because once it was loose, it was frightening.
So he kept it leashed. But the one thing that always set his teeth on edge and his temper burning was someone hurting the person he loved.
Unclamping his teeth, he tossed the cigar into the grass below, watching its light sizzle and then die.
Dragging restless fingers through his hair, he turned to go back in, stopping short when he saw her standing just inside the bedroom.
She hadn't slept long. He had hoped she would.
Without a word, he went in and closed the doors with a snap, eyes studying her face.
"I should apologize."
"Why?" he bit out. Swearing softly at the injured look on her face, he walked to her and took her hands. "You'll only piss me off if you do." He drew her over to the sofa. When she settled next to him, he pulled her onto his lap.
"I never make it a habit to give a damn about what people think of me or even what they say." He stared at her curiously. "I'm guessing it's not the same for you."
She moved her shoulders restlessly. She had opened her eyes a few minutes earlier, hoping to see him next to her. When she hadn't, she had wondered if he had left. "They, my parents, had a strong influence on my life." A small smile touched her lips. "I told you I was a very obedient child."
She closed her eyes when he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. His gentleness surprised her.
She would never have thought that a man who hung out with bikers and looked like him, with tattoos and that cynical look stamped on his handsome face, would show such empathy.
William would never have stayed and offered her comfort.
He would more than likely blame her and demand that she apologize to her mother.
Zane offered no judgment and was here, still here for her, even though her mother had insulted him. The very memory had her cringing.
"Why are you still here?"
Her abrupt question had him staring at her, puzzled.
"Pardon?"
"I'm sure you're not used to people talking to you like that." She was as stiff as a board, and he figured it was embarrassment that was causing it and the cool tone that had entered her voice. "I rather thought you would have gone by now."
"Is that right?" He continued to regard her steadily until she was the one who dropped her gaze. "It so happens I hate bullies, and that was what your mother was. You don't have to put up with it."
"Is that the only reason you stayed? Because you hate bullies?"
"Among others. What do you want to hear, Kara?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing."
"Try again."
"I was humiliated."
"I figured that."
"She was unforgivably rude to you," she whispered.
"I can take care of myself, and the fact is I don't know her, so her opinion means nothing to me. I know who I am."
She stared at him for a moment before nodding. "That's what I lack."
"What is that?"
"Confidence." She shrugged. To his surprise and pleasure, she leaned into him, arms wrapping around his waist, face burrowed against his chest.
"Can we drop the subject? I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Fine by me. We'll just stay here." He cradled her, breathing in her scent. She had asked him why he stayed. The answer was simple: he didn't want to be anywhere else. Kissing the top of her head, he closed his eyes and contented himself with just holding her.
*****
"No. Absolutely not." His voice was firm, expression resolute.
He had spent another night with her after running by his place to pick up some extra clothing.
He hadn't even stayed long enough to take a shower, in case her mother or that prick she had been involved with took it into their heads to pay her a visit and beat her while she was down.
He had spent the night making love to her, wanting to erase the haunted look from her lovely face and replace it with something else.
He believed he had accomplished that. Now, this morning, they were fresh from shower sex and having a meal in the kitchen.
They were on their second cup of coffee after polishing off the pancakes and bacon she had prepared when she made the shocking request.
"I want to meet your friends." She pointed her cup at him. This morning, she looked fresh as a daisy and rested, which was something, considering that he had kept her up most of the night. "Unless you're ashamed of them."
He narrowed his eyes at her obvious ploy. "That's not going to work. I like them well enough, but there's no way in hell I'm taking you to that bar. Those are some pretty rough individuals who are not used to beautiful women like you. They'd probably start a bloody fight."