by Cat Schield
“Good image, thanks!” Laura took a deep breath. “Anyway, losing Thomas didn’t really hurt, Georgia. I don’t think I ever loved him and he deserved better.”
“So did you,” Georgia put in.
Smiling, Laura said, “And I shouldn’t let myself be hurt by Ronan, either. I knew going in that he was just temporary. He’s danger. I’m cozy. I’m stay at home, he’s adventure. Never the twain is going to meet or whatever.”
“And yet, you kept his dog.”
There was that small ping of guilt again. Especially when she recalled the dumbfounded expression on Ronan’s face when she refused to hand the dog over. “Well, it wasn’t Beast’s fault who his owner was.”
“Was?”
Beast whined in his sleep, and Laura reached a hand down to pat him. “Beast is mine now, and he’s going to stay mine.”
“Good luck with that.”
She’d need it. Yes, Ronan had left, but he’d be back. Laura knew that. Ronan Connelly didn’t accept defeat. Ever. Ronan was the kind of man who made things happen to suit himself. He had built his company into the premier private security business in the world. He traveled by private jet. Knew the famous and the infamous and swept through life with the confidence of a gladiator.
Which was both attractive and annoying. Impossible to have a good argument with a man who never thought he was wrong.
“This isn’t really about the dog anyway,” Georgia reminded her softly, “and we both know it.”
Laura’s gaze flicked to her sister’s, and she braced herself. She didn’t want to talk about this.
But Georgia was too stubborn to let it go.
“You can’t blame him for something he didn’t even know about.”
“I’m not blaming him,” Laura countered, though a part of her did, as ridiculous as that sounded. “I’m really not. Ronan’s in the past, that’s all. That affair of ours had an expiration date stamped on it. I knew that going in.”
“Doesn’t have to be over,” her sister suggested.
“I’m not the one who ended it, remember?”
When Georgia would have argued, Laura spoke up fast. “He’s not here forever, Georgia. He’s going back to Ireland and we both know it. Well, I live here. And besides all of that, we want different things. Move in different worlds. It’s just…doomed.”
“And you’re not going to tell him what’s behind all of this? Don’t you think he’s got a right to know?”
“Maybe he does.” Laura shifted her gaze to the trees outside and watched the last few yellowing leaves flutter in the wind before snapping free of the branches and flying off in a twisting dance. Rain pelted from the sky in a burst and tapped at the windowpanes like impatient fingertips against a table.
Funny, their mother had always hated fall and winter. She’d actually called autumn the Death of Hope season because it would be so long until summer again. Funny that she’d chosen to move to such a rainy place. Laura hadn’t thought of that in years. Now, it seemed unerringly apt.
Because in this Death of Hope season, she was finally accepting that what she had had with Ronan was over. Finished. Hope was ridiculous when there was absolutely no reason for it.
Turning her gaze back to her sister’s, Laura said, “What point is there in telling him that I miscarried his baby?”
“You said it yourself,” her sister pointed out gently. “It was his baby. Maybe that’s point enough.”
But it wouldn’t change anything, Laura thought. And what if she told him and he didn’t care? She didn’t think she wanted to find out what Ronan’s reaction would have been to almost being a father.
ISBN: 9781459244733
Copyright © 2012 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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