All Or Nothing (The Alpha Brotherhood #2)(11)
Author: Catherine Mann

He chose his words carefully, determined to get through the tough stuff so they could make love without the past hovering over them. “I figured we both needed space after last night if there was any chance of us enjoying our evening together.”

“That makes sense,” she conceded.

“I’m a logical man.” He rested a hand on the back of her seat, his fingers dangling a whisper away from her hair. He was so damn close to having her, he could already taste her.

“You may think you’re logical, but I don’t understand half of what you do, Conrad. I do know that if you’d really loved me, truly wanted to stay married, you would have been honest. Whatever game you’re playing now, it has nothing to do with love.” Words tumbled from her faster and faster as if overflowing from a bottle. “You just don’t want to lose. I’m another prize, a contest, a challenge. The way you’ve played me today and for three years? It’s a game to you.”

“I can assure you,” he said softly, his fingers finally—thank God—finally skimming along her silky hair. “I consider the stakes to be very high. I am not in the mood to play.”

“Then what are you doing? Because this back and forth, this torment, has nothing to do with peace.”

“I have to agree.” He traced her ear, down to the curve of her neck.

Her eyes slid closed and the air all but crackled. “Are you doing this to make me stay?”

“I told you what I want. A chance for us to say goodbye.” He thumbed the throbbing pulse along her neck, his body going hard at the thought of her heart beating faster for him. “Leaving was your choice, not mine, but after three years I get that you mean business.”

Her lashes fluttered open, her blue eyes pinning him. “And you really accept my decision.”

“You were yelling at me about thirty seconds ago.” He outlined her lips, her breath hot against his palm.

“Are you accusing me of being a shrew?” She nipped his finger.

He forgot to breathe. “I would never say that.”

“Why not? I’ve called you a bastard and worse.”

“I am a bastard, and I am far worse.” He took her face in both hands, willing her to hear him, damn it, to finally understand how much she’d meant to him. “But I’m also a man who would have been there for you every day of your life.”

She searched his eyes, her mouth so close to his their breaths tangled together. Something in her expression stopped him.

“Every day, Conrad? Unless it’s one of the times you can’t be reached or when you call but your number is blocked.”

Damn it. He pulled away, slumping back in his seat. “I have work and holdings around the world.”

“You’re a broken record,” she said, her voice weary and mad all at once. “But who am I to judge? You’re not the only one who can keep secrets.”

A chill iced the heat right out of the air. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Do you know what finally pushed me over the edge?” Her eyes filled with tears that should have been impossible to hold back. “What made me walk out?”

“It took me a couple of days to return your calls, and you’d had enough.” He’d fired the secretary that hadn’t put her calls through. He’d honestly been working at being more accessible to Jayne.

“Seven days, Conrad. Seven.” She jabbed a finger at him, her voice going tight and the first tear sliding down her cheek. “I called you because I needed you. I’d gotten a suspicious report back on a mammogram, and the doctor wanted to do a biopsy right away.”

Her words sucker punched everything out of him, leaving him numb. Then scared as hell.

He shot upright and started to grab her shoulders, only to hold back at the last second, afraid to touch her and upset her even more. “God, Jayne, are you all right? If I had known…”

“But you didn’t.” She pushed his hands away slowly, deliberately. “And don’t worry, I’m fine. The lump was benign, but it sure would have been nice to have you hold my hand that week. So don’t tell me you would have been there for me every day of my life. It’s simply not true.”

The sense of how badly he’d let Jayne down slammed over him. He closed his eyes, head back on his seat as he fought down the urge to leap out of the car and shout, punch a wall, anything to ease the crushing weight of how he’d let her down.

One deep breath at a time, he regained his composure enough to turn his head and look at her again. “What happened to the puppy?”

“Huh?” She scrubbed the backs of her hands across her wet cheeks.

“What did you do with Mimi after you left?” Mimi, named for the heroine in La Bohème.

“Oh, I kept Mimi, of course. She’s with…a dog sitter.”

Of course she’d kept the dog. Jayne wasn’t the kind of person to throw away the good things in her life. He was.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, stared out the window at the churning night sea below and wished those murky waters held some answers. Jayne’s ocean-fresh scent gave him only a second’s warning before she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

* * *

Desperate to forget the past, Jayne sealed her lips to Conrad’s. Right or wrong, she just needed to lose herself in the feel of his body against hers. The roar of the waves crashing against the shore echoed the elemental restlessness inside her.

With a low growl, he wrapped his strong, muscled arms around her. He took her mouth as thoroughly as she took his. The taste of coffee from dinner mingled with the flavor of him. And what a mix of the familiar and a first kiss wrapped up in one delicious moment. Goose bumps sprinkled along her arms, shimmering through her, as well.

Her hands slid from the warm bristle of his face to his shoulders and she held on. Because, God, this was what she’d wanted since the second she’d sensed him walk up behind her in the casino, drawn by the intoxicating warmth and bay rum scent of him. The way his hands smoothed back her hair, stroked along her arms, stoked a familiar heat inside her. She’d been right to instigate this. Here, in his arms, she didn’t have to think about the pain of the past. To hell with peace and resolving their problems. Rehashing old issues just brought more pain. She wanted this bliss.

And then goodbye.

His mouth trekked to her jaw as he dipped lower, his late-day beard a sweet abrasion against her neck. Her head lolled to the side, a moan rolling up her throat. She stroked along the fine texture of his tux over bold muscles, up and into his hair. Combing through his impossibly soft strands, she urged him to give more, take more. She tugged gently, bringing his mouth back to hers.