by Qwillia Rain
“How long did it take? Three, four months?”
“Twice.” Mattie rolled her eyes and climbed out of the chair. Sitting on the coffee table facing Lyssa, she grimaced. “Bryce noticed I hadn’t gone to the bathroom, did a bit of exploring, and made sure he put my diaphragm in every night and used a condom all the other times.”
“Wow, talk about fertile Myrtle.” Lyssa chuckled.
“Hey, don’t put this all on my shoulders. Look at the Halsey family history. Not a single couple in the family line had less than four kids. At least until Jacob came along.” Mattie crossed her arms over her chest. “Yup, I figure if you want a baby, just keep little Mikey hard and uncovered.”
It was Lyssa’s turn to roll her eyes. “Gross, Mat. Very gross.”
“But true, sister dear.”
For the briefest moment, as Sean snuggled against her, his soft breath wafting over her shoulder as he drifted off to sleep, Lyssa imagined he was hers. Mike’s son and hers, physical evidence of the connection between them. Proof of her love—
“Mommy! Daddy’s bein’ dom ’gain!” preceded the slamming of a door somewhere in the house.
“Margaretta Alise Halsey, you get back here!” Bryce’s voice thundered through the house before the door shut firmly again. “Lawrence!”
“Ah, my master is home”—Mattie laughed, shaking her head as she headed for the door—“and hot on the heels of our vexing little girl.”
Lyssa soothed the startled baby as she eased out of the chair and followed her sister toward the sitting room doorway.
* * *
Cuddled close together in bed later that night, Lyssa asked Mike, “Do you think Tuma enjoyed meeting Ben and Vance?”
Mike laughed, his fingers playing with the soft strands of her hair. “I think she did. It was nice of you to invite her along for Steak Wednesday.”
“I noticed you didn’t tell either of them that she’s your daughter.” Lyssa had been curious about the omission, but she reasoned Mike’s silence was rooted in his own justifications.
“Tuma and I decided to keep quiet about our relationship until we can tell the rest of the family.”
That made her chuckle. “Don’t want word getting to your big brother before you can tell him?”
Mike grimaced but nodded. “Definitely. Bryce would not take it well if he heard about Tuma from anyone other than me.” Rolling onto his side, he trailed his hand over her hip and pulled her closer. “You certainly didn’t help with your story about Maggie.”
He felt like a warm blanket along the front of her body. The jut of his aroused penis rubbed against her belly, but he wasn’t in any hurry to assuage his need. In the days since she’d posed for him, Lyssa had noticed Mike’s tendency to draw out their lovemaking. Where before he’d focused on stimulating her body so she achieved climax quickly, now he seemed intent on demonstrating the satisfaction to be found in a long, slow burn.
She was growing more and more aware of the fact that her desire for him was developing into an addiction. A frisson of unease skittered through her at the thought of the repercussions that could ensue if she grew too dependent on Mike’s presence. The ripples of their breakup could extend beyond simply the two of them. If it went badly, Mattie and the kids could catch some of the fallout. Lyssa never expected Bryce or Jacob to take her side over Mike’s. And that type of discord would create issues in her sister’s marriage—
“Lyssa?” Mike’s concerned query drew her from the thoughts spiraling through her.
Remembering his earlier comment, she quipped, “And just how did my story about Maggie put Tuma off?”
“Put her off? Uh-uh, it only made her more intent on meeting the family.”
“So the idea of a cousin who comes home with baby rattlesnakes for pets didn’t faze her?” Lyssa allowed her hand to explore the firm contours of Mike’s shoulder before moving on to his chest, then his hip, and finally his flank. The tips of her breasts rubbed against his hair-dusted chest, their increased sensitivity making her gasp at the sensation of each crisp curl twining around her swollen nipples.
“I think Tuma believes it will be her responsibility to keep the minx out of trouble.”
Lyssa laughed. “I wish her luck. Did she not hear what Ben said?”
Mike’s fingers curled around the back of her thigh, drawing her leg over his hip, opening Lyssa’s body to further exploration. He continued the conversation as if they were still gathered around Ben and Vance’s dining room table. “Oh, she heard it. That only made her more determined. She told me nearly a dozen visits to the emergency room in three years of life was an indication that whatever guardian angel watched over Maggie was severely overworked.”
Lyssa couldn’t decide if she should groan or laugh. Tuma’s comment made sense, but the way Mike’s fingers gently stroked the flesh between her thighs distracted her. Unwilling to let him divert her, Lyssa shook her head. “Overwhelmed is more accurate, I think. If the people in San Diablo didn’t know Bryce and Mattie as well as they do, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone at the hospital entertained thoughts of child abuse.”
“How can anyone equate fire ant bites and fleas with child abuse?” Mike demanded, his fingers going still as he stared at her.
Lyssa leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Hey, don’t ask me, but there are also the dislocated shoulder, five stitches on her left shin, ten on her right, and the minor concussion to take into consideration. On top of the usual colds and flu.”
It took a moment as he considered the information before Mike relaxed and returned his attention to what he’d been doing. “True, that does seem a bit excessive for a three-year-old.”
“Until you consider the dislocated shoulder and concussion resulted from her escaping the emergency room,” Lyssa reminded him. She paused, then added, “I have to admit, I’ve been temped myself to see what it’s like to swing from one of the TV wall mounts in the waiting room.”
Mike groaned and buried his face against her neck. “Much as I love Maggie, I do not envy my brother the gray hairs that child is going to cause him.”
“I have to wonder what kind of man is going to be able to keep up with her when she gets older and starts to date.”
“Now that’s scary.” Mike seemed to think about something for a moment before he asked, “Have you ever thought about having kids?”
Lyssa held her breath for a moment. Twice in one day, she was having to confront this question. Although she’d hidden anything that might alert Mike to the plan that had sent her to the masquerade, she worried about how he’d react if he ever found out. Keeping her tone offhand, she lied, “Not seriously.”
“You have to wonder if there’s a chance you could end up with a little Maggie of your own,” Mike prompted.
“You make it sound like a bad thing.” Lyssa grinned.
His fingers stroked through her loosened hair. “I’m just picturing you yelling for me to handle things if we have baby rattlers, feral cats, or half-wild stray dogs running around the house.”
“It wasn’t a stray dog; it was a coyote pup,” Lyssa clarified. “I think I do rather well with Maggie’s scavenger hunt prizes.”
He cocked an eyebrow and reminded her, unable to hide his grin, “Aren’t you forgetting that little incident with the tarantula.”
Lyssa shuddered and grimaced. “Eww. Little, my ass. That thing was huge! Even Jacob was freaked out when she pranced in holding that icky bug.”
“You aren’t bothered by the thought that we could one day have a child as curious and fearless as Maggie?”
“We?” Lyssa looked at him. “Where did this we come from?” The censure in her tone hadn’t been intentional, but her heart hammered at the thought of his getting so close to her secret. Not to mention the feeling that spread through her at his mention of a child shared by them. The way he said it made it seem like he actually looked forward to the idea. As much as she did.
No, she couldn’t let herself fall
into that trap. Or let him fall into it.
Reaching over, Mike switched on the lamp and sat up in bed. “I was speaking hypothetically.”
“Okay, so hypothetically if I were to have a child, what makes you think I’d involve you in its raising?” The tone of confidence she’d wanted to feel was missing from her voice. Lyssa hoped it was only her imagination that put the thread of hope, wistfulness even, into her words.
“Rule number one means I would be the father. And that means I would be involved.” Mike smoothed his hand over her shoulder before cupping the back of her neck. “There hasn’t been an illegitimate Halsey in over two hundred and fifty years. I won’t be the one to break that tradition.”
“And that’s supposed to mean what to me, Mike?” Lyssa tried to roll away from him, ignoring the protest her body made to abandoning his warmth. “I’ve taken care of myself pretty well. Any child I have will be my child, and I’ll raise it the way I see fit.” Though not painful, the hold he had on her was impossible to break without a significant struggle. “Besides, rule number one won’t be around in two weeks, remember?”
“I assure you, it will be. And I’ll still be right here with you.”
“And if I didn’t want you around?” Lyssa tried again to ease out of his hold, but she wasn’t too surprised when Mike shifted their positions so she ended up supine beside him. He propped himself on his elbows over her.
“I would never leave you, Lyssa. And I would never leave my child.”
“Yes you would. You’d get some call to photograph invading armies or rebels fighting or something equally dangerous, and we’d be left behind.” A brief struggle reinforced Mike’s hold on her. “I understand. It’s your job. I don’t blame you.”
“It sure sounds like you do.” He looked irked at something, but she doubted he’d come right out and say what bothered him.
Was it something to do with the phone call? The one from Trent she’d overheard last week? No damned way was he likely to reveal a secret, a weakness to her. That’s how she played it, so she doubted he worked it any differently. Maybe he was on edge over LaTreace. There hadn’t been any more late-night phone calls, but what about during the day? When he was at the studio?
His sharp rebuttal pulled her from her thoughts. “I wasn’t the one who walked away the last time, Lyssa. I made every effort to connect, but you froze me out.”
“You left me, alone, in the middle of a restaurant, with only a phone call from the airport.”
“How long are you going to make me pay for that? I said I was sorry. I tried to make it up to you.”
“Too late.” She bit her lip to stop the secret trembling on her tongue. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She lay there, soft and quiet beneath him. Before she could ask what was going through his mind, Mike let his opinion be known.
“Kids are precious. A gift that should never be denied or ignored. If you were to have my baby, Lys, don’t expect me to walk away.”
Dread rippled through her. “I feel the same way,” Lyssa admitted. “I just—”
“Despite all your arguments, Lys, if you got pregnant, we’d get married.”
She shook her head. “No. That would be a mistake, Mike. A huge mistake.” She could read how determined he was in his eyes. It was there for anyone to see how he thought he felt about her. Reason and common sense had disappeared, and it was up to her to return them to this conversation. “How did a discussion about a hypothetical baby turn into a demand for marriage?” She kept her tone cool. “You aren’t thinking clearly.”
“I’m not thinking clearly?”
“No. First of all, there is no baby. And second, we’re totally unsuited for one another.”
“Unsuited?” Before she could anticipate what he intended, one of Mike’s hands was between her thighs, cupping her pussy. “You’re wet for me, babe. All the time.”
“That’s hormones—”
The careful nudge of first one finger, then a second inside her, and Lyssa arched against him. The satisfaction on his face wasn’t arrogant as Mike asked, “How many of your other lovers could make you come with a touch? Or by whispering what he wanted in your ear?”
Lyssa groaned. “None, but—”
“Did any of them talk you into letting them play with your ass?” His hand abandoned her cunt, slid over her hip, and eased between the cheeks of her bottom as if to emphasize his point.
“You know I haven’t, but—”
“I remember.” One of his fingers rubbed against the tight opening.
Now his expression grew smug, which pissed Lyssa off. He wants to emphasize how great a lover he is? Gripping his arm, she pressed on it until he pulled his hand away and braced it on the bed beside her hip. “You talk as if I’ve had an army of lovers, Mike.”
“Not an army—”
It was her turn to cut him off, and she took pleasure in shutting him up. She held the forefinger on her right hand up and put it in his face. “One, Mike. Besides you, I’ve had one lover. And two near misses.” Shifting out from under him, Lyssa sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “And it wasn’t any great shakes the single time I did have sex.”
Lyssa watched him slide from beneath the covers to follow her, but fought the urge to cuddle up against him. She needed to get this over with. Maybe then he’d understand why she didn’t want him around. “You seem surprised.” The robe he’d pulled off her earlier was draped over a chair. Grabbing it, she slid it on and cinched the belt tight.
“A bit.” He kept his distance. “What happened?”
“Guys tend not to want to be around a girl accused of murdering her father. Especially when she supposedly did it not twenty minutes after being dumped at her door and told she’s worthless and what a lousy lay she is.” Lyssa was actually surprised at how bitter she sounded. She’d always considered herself over Craig’s rejection, but perhaps some of the pain still lingered. “Blows the mood entirely.”
Not to mention it served as proof that her father had been right. If the boy who’d professed to love her for three years could turn his back on her after one night, what chance did she have with Mike? Especially if he learned the secret she’d kept from him for the last four years.
“But you didn’t do it. It wasn’t you who pulled the trigger.” Mike’s fingers slid along the cloth covering her left shoulder, directly over the scar.
Lyssa shrugged off his touch. “I did—”
“You didn’t.” His eyes held hers, the steady brown gaze reassuring even as it demanded she admit the truth—something she’d never revealed in twenty-three years. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise,” Mike assured her.
“Why would I say I did it if I didn’t?” How can he be so confident?
“For the same reason you took the blame. To protect Mattie.” His fingers went back to her shoulder. “Just like you stepped in front of her when your father was aiming at her.”
“How did you—”Bryce. It wasn’t a surprise that her brother-in-law knew things not even Gino could prove. But the fact that Mike knew and understood—Lyssa fought the burn of tears. “It was my responsibility—”
“You were seventeen.” Mike shook his head. “No one would hold you responsible for what happened.”
“I do.”
Mike cocked his head and watched her carefully. “Do you also take the blame for the boyfriend?”
Lyssa shook her head. “No, he was seventeen and hadn’t much experience. I understand that now. Hell, I understood that years ago.”
“He was an ass—”
His vehement response surprised a chuckle from her. “You’ve never met Craig.”
Mike stepped close. “He dumped you because he couldn’t perform.” His finger hooked through the knotted belt of her robe. “That kind of behavior doesn’t impress me.”
“I didn’t say he couldn’t perform.”
“You didn’t climax, right?”
Lyssa rolled her eyes but didn’t commen
t.
“And the near misses?” He tugged her closer, his fingers loosening the belt and easing the robe open. “Something tells me it wasn’t their idea to put the brakes on.”
“You’d be wrong,” Lyssa confessed.
“I doubt it, but enlighten me,” Mike argued. “Who were they?”
“No one important.”
Mike tugged her close. “Who were they? How old were you?”
His expression warned her there was no avoiding the conversation. Maybe if he realized other men knew how unlovable she was, Mike would figure it out as well. “Jerry was my partner in a design project in school. I was twenty; it was my senior year.”
“Did he try to push you?”
Lyssa chuckled and pulled out of his hold. “No, just the opposite. I thought that meant he cared. That there was something real between us. I even let him talk me into modeling the outfits.” She shook her head and settled onto the side of the bed, tugging her robe around her. “I didn’t find out the truth until I walked up on him snuggled up with one of the other design students. Seems he was glad he didn’t have to ‘fuck the cow’ in order to secure extra credit for his full-figure designs.”
Mike sat beside her, his hand covering hers, stilling the fingers plucking at the edge of her belt. “He was a brainless prick, babe. Not worth your time.”
She didn’t look up at him. “Maybe.”
“No maybe about it.” He didn’t elaborate. “And the other near miss?”
This time she looked at him and grinned. “You’ll find this funny.”
“I doubt it. If he hurt you, he’s a dead man.”
“He was a photographer.” She slipped her hand from beneath his and stood up. Taking a few steps away, she wrapped her arms around her waist. “And he asked me to pose for him. Nude.”
“No fucking way,” Mike snapped, pushing off the bed to follow her.
Again his hands went to the belt at her waist, loosening it before his hands slid inside and wrapped around her waist. “I was twenty-three, Mike, just getting started. I didn’t pose for him, but he really knew how to turn a phrase. Drinks, dinner, compliments. Two solid weeks of his attention and I probably would have agreed.”