by Heidi Rice
‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that.’ His mother propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. ‘You ignore my calls for weeks and now you turn up in the middle of the night and use profanity in my house.’
His temper cooled rapidly as he cradled his cheek—which was on fire.
‘That hurt—’ He bit off a curse, before he ended up with two sore cheeks.
‘That’s because it was meant to,’ she returned, not looking remotely apologetic. She gave a huge yawn, making the guilt return. ‘Now sit down and tell me what’s going on and what Iona has to do with it.’ She indicated the kitchen table, the moment of temper gone as quickly as it had come.
He hesitated. He didn’t want to stay and talk. He had to keep searching. But as the anger and desperation drained away, it was replaced with hurt and confusion. If Iona wasn’t here, where was she? Watching his mother placing home-made cookies onto a plate, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to take the comfort she offered. He slumped into one of the dainty kitchen chairs, absently rubbing his flaming cheek.
His hand dropped to the table, the pain from the slap nothing to the tearing pain in his chest as exhaustion and hopelessness overwhelmed him.
He couldn’t keep looking, because there was nowhere else to look.
He waited for his mother to finish the tea-making ritual. Placing the freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies in front of him, she poured some tea into a china teacup and pushed it towards him. ‘Now what’s all this about?’
Steepling her fingers, she observed him with the firm but compassionate expression he remembered so well from his childhood and something broke open inside him.
He gazed at the cup of tea, the scent of fresh mint making his stomach leap into his throat and then become a huge brick that he couldn’t swallow down.
If only she could fix this, as she had when he was little. Back in the days when she’d been able to make nightmares go away. But that had all stopped when he was twelve and he’d first found out the truth about his father.
Her warm hand covered the one he had fisted on the table and she squeezed. ‘Talk to me, Zane. Don’t shut me out any more.’
He raised his eyes and Iona’s note came back to him:
You’re a good man, Zane. Go ask your mum, she’ll tell you.
‘I did something unforgivable.’ The words tumbled out. ‘And she left me. And I can’t find her.’
His mother nodded. ‘Is this Iona we’re talking about?’
‘Yes,’ he said, humiliated when his voice cracked.
‘So you’ve fallen in love with her.’
He stared blankly at her hand where it held his, noticed the solid gold wedding band Terry had put on her finger a decade ago, when Zane had given her away—and the abject panic he might have expected at her suggestion didn’t come. Instead it all felt a little unreal. ‘Maybe.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What did you do to her that was so unforgivable?’
He shook his head, tried to swallow past the brick in his throat. He couldn’t tell her that, because then she’d know that despite all her efforts he was no better than the man who had sired him.
But then she cupped his chin in cool fingers and raised his face.
‘Does this have something to do with your father?’
He jerked his head out of her grasp, so stunned he forgot to mask the emotion. She’d always been intuitive—but now was she a damn mind-reader?
‘I don’t want to talk about him.’
‘I know you don’t.’ She sighed. ‘But don’t you think it’s past time we did?’
‘No. I can’t.’
‘Why can’t you?’
He dragged his hands out from under hers, and blurted out the truth. ‘Because damn it, I know he raped you. And I can’t stand it. To know he hurt you. And that I’m the result.’
‘What…?’ Her face went white, with shock or pain, or quite possibly both. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I saw the two of you together when I was a kid. When he came to the cottage that time. I saw him try to hurt you again. And I heard everything he said.’
‘Oh, Zane.’ She took his hands in both of hers, clutched them hard. ‘I had no idea you were there—if I had I would have explained it to you. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell you.’ He pulled his hands away, all the anger and bitterness and self-loathing he’d kept hidden for so long threatening to choke him. Until finally he had to ask the question that had been lurking inside him for so long. ‘How can you not hate me?’
‘Stop that.’ She stood up, and pulled him into her arms. The magnolia scent enveloped him as she held his head to her breast, ran her fingers through his hair. ‘Now you listen to me.’
His whole body shook, but the quiver of emotion calmed as her sure steady voice drifted through him.
‘Yes, he raped me, but it wasn’t as black and white as you probably think. I was young and foolish and he was handsome and sophisticated and married and I had a crush on him. I knew he liked me and I flirted with him, encouraged him. It was only when he came to my room that I panicked. I asked him to stop and he wouldn’t.’
She drew back, cupped his cheeks in gentle hands. ‘I’m not saying what happened was my fault, because it wasn’t. He was a ruthless, selfish and ultimately cruel man who took advantage of my naivety. But even though I hated him at the time, and for years afterward, I managed to find forgiveness for him. And do you know why?’
Zane shook his head, not sure he could bear to hear it.
‘Because out of that horror, out of that cruelty and selfishness, I got you.’
He covered her hands with his, drew them away from his face. ‘You don’t have to say that. I’m not a kid any more. And I know having me ruined your life.’
‘Zane!’ Her gaze became shadowed with hurt, and it cut into his heart. ‘Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You didn’t ruin my life.’ She placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘You are and will always be the best part of my life.’ Her voice strengthened. ‘I thought that after twenty-four excruciating hours of labour. I thought it when you were eight and broke a tooth in a fist fight that cost me three hundred dollars to fix.’ She gave him a little shake as if trying to force the words into him. ‘I thought it when you insisted on losing your virginity to that dreadful girl Mary-Lou who thought it was funny to call you a “wetback.”’
‘You knew about that?’ he croaked as mortification engulfed him.
She waved her hand dismissively. ‘And I even thought it when you beat up Nate, for no other reason than he wanted to be your brother.’ A lone tear trickled down her cheek, and he ducked his head, humbled as all the shame and anger that he had held inside for so long was beaten into submission by his mother’s love.
‘Why on earth would I stop thinking it now?’ she whispered. ‘When you’ve become this big, strong, beautiful man who always tries so hard to do the right thing—even when he doesn’t know how?’
She cradled his cheek. ‘You may have come from a horrific act. But you’re not responsible for it. Any more than I was. And just because he fathered you, it doesn’t mean you’re like him, any more than Nate is like him. Or Brandon. Think about it, Zane. Because if you’re tainted by his blood then so are they and any child you might have. Surely you can see how foolish that is?’
He let out a heavy sigh.
Iona was right. He should have talked about this with his mother a long time ago. It would have saved them both so much heartache.
‘That’s some speech,’ he said, at last.
‘If I had known that you knew what you did, I would have given it to you twenty years ago,’ she said, giving his cheek a gentle pat and returning to her seat.
He smiled weakly. ‘I should have told you.’
‘Yes, you should have, but you’re a man, so it’s not all that surprising you didn’t.’ She laughed, but then her gaze sharpened. ‘Now, tell me all about Iona.’
&
nbsp; His smile faltered.
‘I knew there was something going on there,’ his mother added. ‘You seemed taken with her.’
He shrugged, more than a little uncomfortable talking about exactly how taken he had become with Iona. ‘There’s not a lot to tell.’ Or not a whole lot he could tell his mother. ‘We’ve been dating for a while. She’s been living at my place this past week…’
What did he say? That he’d fallen in love with her? How was he supposed to know that? He wasn’t even sure what the hell it meant?
‘And…? What?’ his mother prompted.
‘And it’s been good. Better than good.’ That much he knew was true.
He’d never been so desperate to get home every evening, and so torn when he had to leave every morning. And it wasn’t just the sex. He missed her bright aimless chatter. Her enthusiasm for home cooking and the little flecks of paint on all her clothing. Her kindness and her compassion and the easy no-nonsense way she handled C.D. The way she blushed like a blueberry whenever he teased her and then the smart, sexy way she teased him right back. He missed every bit of their time together and not just the time they spent in bed. In fact, better than good was probably an understatement.
‘But then…’ he began. Then he spotted the sparkle of interest in his mother’s eyes and stopped again.
Okay, no way was he telling his mother about the kitchen-counter sex, or the fact that he’d failed to wear a condom. One whack across the face was enough for tonight.
‘And then she ran out on me.’
‘Hmm.’ His mother lifted a cookie and bit into it, sending him a considering look. ‘And you want her back?’
‘Yeah. I do.’ That much he was sure of. And after what his mother had told him, he also wanted an explanation as to why she’d run off, because it seemed he might have overreacted about his part in that.
His mother slung the cookie down. ‘Then what are you doing sitting around my kitchen eating cookies?’ She got up and hauled him out of his chair.
‘Hey!’
‘Zane, you’ve never spoken about any woman like this before. You need to go find that girl.’
‘I know that,’ he said, feeling exasperated himself when she shoved him down the hallway. ‘But I don’t have a clue where she is.’
His mother cocked an eyebrow as she swung the door open. ‘Then go get a clue,’ she said as he stepped out into the night. ‘You’re a detective, remember.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IONA RINSED OUT the last of her underwear in the motel’s tiny washbasin and began hanging them on the rail.
The dull pain at the memory of Zane’s face as he’d left to take C.D. for a walk had her leaning heavily on the sink. She bit into her lip to stop the stupid flood of tears returning.
She’d cried far too much in the last week. And all it did was give her a headache. She needed to get over this now. It had been a fling, pure and simple. A fling that she’d taken a mite too seriously.
And if she had woken up an hour ago and stupidly remembered it was Brandon’s christening today and spent the morning moping about hoping that Zane had gone to it, that only proved how delusional she’d become.
The knock at the door had her dumping the last of the wet underwear in the sink. Please don’t let that be the piggy-eyed guy on Reception, who kept ‘checking up’ on how she was doing.
She gasped as she checked the peephole—her knees going to jelly—and opened the door on autopilot.
‘Zane, what are you doing here?’
Am I hallucinating?
‘What am I doing here?’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t that be, what the heck are you doing here? Do you have any idea how many favours I had to beg, steal and borrow from my buddies on the force to find you?’
He strode into the room as her hand went slack on the door. Okay, she definitely wasn’t hallucinating. The guy in the debonair linen suit making the small grotty room look smaller and grottier was certainly Zane; she’d recognise that devastating face and that lean, muscular build a hundred years from now.
He swung round, his brows drawing down. ‘Most of which were borderline illegal.’ He checked the time again. ‘Do you have something fancy to wear?’
She stared dully at the knickers and camisole she had on to survive the heat—because the air conditioner hadn’t worked since day one. ‘Why do I need something fancy?’
‘For Brandon’s christening.’ He checked the time again. ‘It starts in an hour. So you better get moving.’
She shook her head, worried she might be hallucinating again, but determined not to start bawling. ‘I can’t go.’
Zane looked disconcerted, but then warm strong fingers wrapped around her forearm. ‘No way are you skipping out on this. I spoke to Nate last night, after I finally found out you were here. And somehow got roped into being Bran’s godfather.’ The puzzled frown deepened.
‘That’s wonderful, Zane.’ Her heart lifted at the news. ‘I’m so happy, for you and your family.’ But as pleased as she was for him, she couldn’t get drawn in too deep again. Or she’d never survive.
‘Yeah, it is kind of cool,’ he said. ‘And you’re coming with me.’
‘I can’t come with you.’
‘Why the hell not?’ There was that edge again, so unlike the charming, charismatic man who had first seduced her, but so like the guarded, vulnerable man she had come to know and love. She sighed, the tears threatening again. And who didn’t love her.
‘Because I have no place there.’
She tugged her arm out of his grasp. It wasn’t fair that he should come back and make her feel this way again. She’d been stupid and naive and had fallen for a man who wasn’t interested, but he hadn’t done a whole lot to stop her making that mistake.
He’d pursued her, right from the start. He’d made her feel special and important and safe, given her mind-blowing sex, and some tantalising glimpses of the man behind the facade. And given how well he knew women, he must have known how irresistible that would be, especially to her, a woman who had a few self-esteem issues of her own.
She’d never even got The Speech. Not properly. He could at least have given her that much, so she could have had some chance of protecting her heart.
After all the tears in the last week, the rare spark of temper felt good.
‘Tess invited you, didn’t she?’ he said.
‘That’s beside the point. Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m ridiculous!’ he shouted. ‘You run out on me without a damn explanation and hole up here for nearly a week without a word and I’m the one being ridiculous. When were you planning to tell me where you were?’
‘I wasn’t,’ She declared.
‘Why not?’ he said, grasping both her arms this time and dragging her to him. ‘What did I do that was so unforgivable?’
‘Nothing, I just…’ She braced her palms against his chest, not wanting to be this close, her limbs shaking and the inevitable heat building. She couldn’t tell him, and have her last scrap of pride torn away.
‘You could be pregnant and you didn’t even give me a forwarding address.’
Pain and disappointment made her throat hurt. So that was the real reason he was here, the invitation to Brandon’s christening nothing more than a ruse to finesse the truth out of her. Because Zane always had to finesse women, charm them. He could never ask anything directly, because that would give them the power, she thought, forcing her temper back to the fore to work through the hurt.
‘I’m not pregnant. I had my period.’
‘You’re not pregnant? For sure?’ She’d expected him to look relieved, but strangely he didn’t, he almost looked disappointed.
‘No, I’m definitely not pregnant.’
‘Okay, then I want a damn good reason why you can’t come home.’
‘Home?’ she said, the anger faltering.
‘Yeah, home. I want you to come back to Seventeen Mile Drive. I want you to give me another chance.’
&nbs
p; ‘I canny do that…’ She shook her head, trying to pull away from him now. The tears welling in her eyes, closing her throat. ‘Don’t ask that of me—it isn’t fair.’
‘Why not?’ he asked, his voice thick too. ‘If this has to do with your father, we can go visit him…’
‘That’s not it. It’s because I’ve fallen in love with you,’ she whispered, her throat raw. She hadn’t wanted to tell him this, and now he’d forced it out of her.
To her astonishment, he laughed. ‘Is that all?’
She struggled out of his arms, the tears falling now. ‘Don’t you dare laugh at me. My feelings are important.’ She rapped her fist on her chest, believing it completely for the first time in her life. ‘My feelings matter.’ The sob burst out without warning. ‘I’m not going to prolong our fling just so I can feel even worse when I have to leave.’
‘Hey, hey, hey.’ He folded her into his embrace, smothering her struggles. ‘Iona, don’t cry. I know your feelings matter.’ He stroked a hand down her hair, cradled her cheeks, the sapphire-blue of his irises warm and unguarded. ‘Because there’s nothing more important to me.’
‘That’s not true,’ she replied, shaking now. ‘You told me I had no business talking to Tess. No business knowing about you and Nate. You never let me in, not really.’
‘Because I was a jerk. And terrified of you finding out something I’d believed about myself for years and wasn’t even true.’
‘Your father?’ she murmured.
‘Yeah, my father.’ He walked to the bed, sat down on it, the creak of the springs audible. ‘You know what’s ironic, when I was a little kid, I had this dumb idea he was a great guy. Back then, it was my mother who didn’t want to talk about him. But I knew who he was. Because I’d seen the photos at San Revelle and it didn’t take much to make the connection. Why my mom had gotten the job. Why the old guy who owned the place came by to ask how I was getting along from time to time.’
‘You mean your grandfather?’
He nodded stiffly. ‘But that day, before…’ He swallowed. ‘Before I saw him with her. I met him. It was hot and my mom had told me to stay away from the big house, because they had guests coming in a couple of hours for a weekend party and I shouldn’t get in the way. But he arrived early and parked right next to where I was playing on my skateboard.’ He shrugged, the movement defensive. ‘He looked me over and grinned, and said, “You’re Maria’s kid, right?” I nodded and everything inside me stopped. I figured this was the moment I’d been waiting for. That he’d tell me he was my father and maybe he’d take me for a ride in his car.’ He gave a sad smile. ‘He had a really hot cherry-red Ferrari with white wall tyres.’