by Nora Roberts
“I think you’ll find it painless.” She started toward him now, and he took his hand out of his pocket to take hers before she could touch him.
“So how are you?” he asked.
“Fine.” Was he just tired, she wondered, or was this distance she felt? “Did things go well in L.A.?”
“Yeah, it went. They’ll start shooting in about three weeks. We’ll get a couple months’ work out of it. Maybe more.”
“You’ll stay in L.A. during the filming,” she said slowly as a weight sank in her stomach.
He shrugged. It wasn’t the time to get into all of this, and he was spared when Ali marched back down the hall, bearing her vase of baby roses like a trophy.
“Don’t they look beautiful, Mama? Annie’s going to put them in my room.”
“They’re perfect. We really need to go. Performers have to be there thirty minutes before curtain.”
“I’ll take those now, sweetheart.” Annie slipped the vase from Ali’s hand. “And I’ll be there to see you dance.” She inclined her head toward Michael in what, from anyone else, he would have taken as a friendly smile. “We all will.”
It wasn’t impossible to put everything out of his mind for a couple of hours. The kid was so cute. All of them were. But it was hard to sit beside Laura, in the middle of all those people—the families, the partners, the couples—and not be miserable.
But he’d had time, and he’d had the distance to allow himself to take a good hard look at what was going on. And what was happening to him. He’d fallen for her, all the way.
It would never work.
He’d seen himself in the dingy little bar in south L.A., drinking beer and swapping stories with wranglers. Going back to his hotel room after a long day, sweaty, dirty, smelling of horse. And he’d seen himself growing up in a house that had breathed neglect and violence and tension.
He’d seen himself for what he was. A man who had chased all the wrong things most of his life and had found plenty of them. A cliff rat, son of a waitress and a wastrel, who would in time and with effort be able to make a decent living.
And he’d seen Laura, the Templeton heiress, sitting in her plush country club drinking tea, dressed in her tidy suit, running a fancy boutique, strolling through a grand hotel that she owned.
He didn’t doubt that he’d given her something. Or that under different circumstances, they could give each other more. But it would be only a matter of time before the haze of lust cleared from her eyes and she saw what she was doing. Having an affair with a horse trainer.
They were both better off that he’d seen it first. Knowing her, he doubted she would be able to break it off clean. She was too soft, too kind, to walk without guilt. Worse, she might continue the relationship long after she’d realized her mistake because of that sterling sense of obligation.
He was no good for her. He knew it. The people who knew both of them understood it. Eventually she would know it. And it would kill him.
Maybe if he hadn’t run into that old buddy of his in L.A., the old merchant marine stevedore he’d shipped with, drunk with, raised hell with. One of the men who had gone to war with him for profit after the sea lost its lure.
But they had run into each other. And the stories were rehashed, the memories swam back. And for one harsh, illuminating moment, he had looked into the surly, bitter, used-up face of the man across from him. And had seen himself.
Michael Fury was a man he never wanted to touch Laura, a man he never wanted her to know. If such a man tried to touch her, to know her, she would cringe in shock.
Before either of them had to cope with that, he would do her a favor and slip out of her life.
As Ali twirled on stage, Laura laid a hand over his and squeezed. And broke his heart.
“Don’t they look wonderful?” Margo murmured.
Beside her, Josh tapped his foot absently to the music and continued to watch his niece. “They’re all great, but Ali’s the best.”
“Naturally.” She chuckled a little, leaned closer to his ear. “But I was talking about Laura and Michael.”
“Hmm?” Distracted, he shifted and glanced at the couple one row in front of them. “Laura and Michael what?”
“They’re wonderful together.”
“Yeah, I guess . . .” He trailed off, stunned as the meaning seeped in. “What do you mean ‘together’?”
“Ssh.” She shushed him, fighting back another laugh. “Together, together. What, are you blind?”
His throat went dry and tight. “They’re not seeing each other. They’re not dating.”
“Dating.” She had to clamp a hand over her mouth. “For God’s sake, Josh, they’ve been sleeping together for weeks. How could you not know?”
“Sleeping—” Shock, rage, disbelief all slammed together against the words. “How the hell do you know that?”
“Because Laura told me,” she hissed into his ear. “And because, if she hadn’t, I have eyes in my head. Ssh,” she ordered when he opened his mouth. “You’re annoying people. And here’s Ali’s solo.”
He shut his mouth, but not his mind. He had a great deal to think about. And as far as he was concerned, his old pal Michael Fury had a great deal to answer for.
There’d been nothing he could do about it that night but go home and grill his wife. Then argue with her over the situation. Josh put her attitude down to female hormones. Women found Michael romantic—which had always been his good luck and was the crux of the current problem.
Josh found him in the paddock, working a yearling on the lounge line. “I need to talk to you, Fury.”
Michael recognized the tone. Something was stuck in Josh’s craw. He wasn’t in the mood for it, not when he was still thinking about the baffled hurt on Laura’s face the night before when he’d given her a quick pat on the head and told her he was beat.
In other words, I’m going to bed, sugar, and you’re not invited.
Still, he released the yearling and walked to the fence where Josh waited. “So talk.”
“Are you sleeping with my sister?”
Ah, well, the time had come. “We don’t sleep much,” Michael said easily and braced when Josh’s hand whipped out and gripped his shirt. “Watch it, Harvard.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Who the hell do you think you are? I asked her to rent this place to you. Do you a favor, and you just jump right in.”
“I didn’t jump alone.” Damned if he’d take the rap for that. “She’s a big girl, Josh. I didn’t lure her into the stables promising her candy. I didn’t force her.”
The idea of it curdled his blood, then shamed him. “You wouldn’t have to,” he shot back. “You forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Mick. I know your style. Christ, we cruised together often enough.”
“Yeah, we did.” Eyes level, Michael pried Josh’s fingers off his shirt. “But that was all right, the two of us going out sniffing out babes.”
“This is my sister.”
“I know who she is.”
“If you knew, if you had any idea what she’s been through the past few years, how easily bruised she is, you’d stay the hell away from her. The women you played with always knew the rules, went in for the game. That’s not Laura.”
“And because she’s your sister, because she’s a Templeton, she’s not entitled to play.” Bitterness rose like bile. “Certainly not with me.”
“I trusted you,” Josh said quietly. “I always trusted you. It’s one thing for you to hit on Kate, and on Margo, but I’m damned if I’m going to stand back and watch you make it three for three.”
His eyes went very cold, very hard. At his side his fist clenched, and in his mind he saw it strike out, fast. It took all of his will and a lifetime of friendship not to follow through.
“Get the fuck away from me. Now.”
“You want to take a swing, you take one. We’ve gone around before.”
Not like this, Michael thought as his system rev
ved toward violence. Now they were men, and the stakes were higher. And if he had any family, any that really mattered, this was it, standing here right now, prepared to break his neck.
“Why don’t we try this instead—I’ll be out by the end of the week. I’ve already started making the arrangements.”
Torn now between friendship and family, Josh narrowed his eyes. “What arrangements? You barely have your foundation up on the new construction.”
“I’ll probably sell it as is once I’ve relocated to L.A. Is that far enough away from your sister, Harvard? Or do I have to go to hell?”
“When did this come up?”
“Do I have to check that with you too? Go away, Josh. I’m busy here and you’ve made your point.”
“I’m not sure I have.” And as he watched his oldest friend walk away, Josh was no longer sure what the point was.
He knew she would come. There was no way to avoid or prevent it. They hadn’t been together in two weeks, and she would expect him to want her. Of course he did, pitifully.
But he wouldn’t touch her. It was only worse now. He’d nearly talked himself out of his earlier decision, had told himself he could find a way to make it work between then. The visit from Josh had snapped things back into reality.
He would make it clean, he would make it quick.
She would be hurt, a little. There was no way to avoid or prevent that either. But she would get over it.
Still, though he’d known she would come, he hadn’t expected her so soon, hadn’t expected himself to be so unprepared when he saw her standing in his doorway with the sun in her hair and her eyes so pure, so gray, so warm.
“I took off from the shop a little early,” she began. She knew she was talking quickly, bubbling over with nerves. Something was wrong. She could have been deaf and blind and still have sensed it. “I thought since my parents were taking the girls into Carmel for dinner, I’d see if you’d like me to fix yours.”
“Women like you don’t cook, sugar. They have cooks.”
“You’d be surprised.” She came in, not waiting for the invitation, and swung past him into the kitchen. “Mrs. Williamson taught us all, including Josh, at least the basics. I make an exceptional fettuccine Alfredo. I thought I’d see what you had before I brought over ingredients.”
Seeing her poking around the kitchen as if she belonged there, as if he could come home after a hard day and find her cheerfully waiting for him, tore him apart. So his voice was cool and careless.
“I’m not much on fancy sauces, sugar.”
“Well, we’ll try something else.” Why wouldn’t he say her name? she wondered, fighting panic. He hadn’t once said her name since he’d come home. She turned to him and couldn’t prevent herself from leading with her heart. “Oh, I missed you, Michael. So much.”
She was halfway across the room, reaching for him. He could all but feel the way her soft, delicate arms would wrap around his neck. He stepped back, lifted both hands to ward her off.
“I’m filthy. I haven’t had a chance to jump in the shower. You wouldn’t want to mess up a nice silk blouse.”
Why should it matter? He’d once torn one off her. He hadn’t held her in days. Yet he stood there now with—was it boredom in his eyes?
“What is it, Michael?” Her stomach jittered, echoed in her voice. “Are you angry with me?”
Deliberately he tilted his head. “Why do you do that? Why do you always assume that whatever’s going on around you is your fault or your responsibility? That’s a real problem you’ve got there,” he added as he walked past her to get a beer out of the refrigerator.
He twisted off the top, drank deep. “Do I look mad to you?”
“No.” She folded her hands, gathered her composure. “No, you don’t. You look vaguely annoyed that I’m in your way. I assumed you’d want me to come, that you’d want to be with me tonight.”
“It’s a nice thought, but don’t you think this has run its course?”
“This?”
“You and me, sugar. We’ve taken this about as far as it’s going to go.” He tipped the beer back again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Listen, you’re a hell of a woman. I like you. I like your style, in bed and out. But we both know we’ve got to move on eventually.”
She would breathe, she told herself. However tight the fist was around her heart, she would breathe, slow and easy. “I take that to mean you’ve decided to move on now.”
“Some things came up when I was in L.A. Changed my plans. I like to be fair with a woman I’ve slept with, so I figured I should let you know I’m moving down there next week.”
“You’re moving to L.A.? But your house—”
“Never meant a damn to me.” He jerked his shoulder. “Just a place. One’s the same as the other.”
One’s the same as the other, she thought dully. One house. One woman. “Why did you come back at all?”
“I left my horses.” He forced his lips into a grin.
“You went to Ali’s recital. You brought her flowers.”
“I told the kid I’d go. I don’t make many promises, so I don’t break the ones I do make.” In this at least, he didn’t have to improvise. “You’ve got terrific kids, Laura. I’ve liked getting to know them. And I wouldn’t have let her down last night.”
“If you go, they’ll be devastated. They’ll—”
“Get over it,” he said, his voice roughening. “I’m just a guy who passed through.”
“You can’t believe that.” She stepped toward him. “You can’t believe you mean so little to them. They love you, Michael. I—”
“I’m not their father. Don’t lay that guilt trip on me. I’ve got my own life to worry about.”
“And that’s it.” She drew in another breath, but it wasn’t slow, it wasn’t easy. “ ‘See you around, it’s been fun?’ We meant nothing to you.”
“Sure you did. Look, sugar, life’s long. A lot of people walk through it. Both of us gave each other what we were looking for at the time.”
“Just sex.”
“Great sex.” He smiled again. Then, because his reflexes were good, dodged by inches the bottle she picked up and heaved at him. Before he could recover from the shock of that, she was using her hands. Both of them shoved hard enough against his chest to knock him back two full steps. “Hey.”
“How dare you! How dare you lower what we have, what I felt, to some animal urge? You son of a bitch, you think you can brush me off like an inconvenient speck of lint, then walk away?”
A lamp went next, and he could only watch, speechless, and duck, fast, when she threw whatever came to her hand at his head.
“You didn’t think I’d cause a scene, did you?” She picked up an end table, toppled it. “Wrong. Finished with me, are you? Just like that.” She snapped her fingers under his nose. “And I’m supposed to meekly walk away, sob into my pillow and say nothing?”
He backed up. “Something like that.” So it wasn’t going to be quick and clean, he decided, but messy. Nonetheless, it had to be done. “Break the place up if it makes you feel better. It’s your stuff. I expect even royalty has to have its tantrums.”
“Don’t you speak to me that way, as if I were some interesting toy that’s suddenly run amok. You came into my life, you exploded into my life and changed everything. Now you’re just finished?”
“We’ve got nothing here and we both know it. It’s just one of those times I saw it first.”
She snatched up a bowl and sent it crashing through his kitchen window. Another time he might have been impressed with the force and velocity. And her aim. But at the moment he could only suffer.
“I ain’t paying for the damages, sugar. And I never made you any promises, told you any lies. You knew yourself what you were getting when you came looking for me. You wanted me to take the choice out of your hands. You wanted me to take you so you wouldn’t have to say it. That’s fact.”
“I didn’t know how to
say it,” she shot at him.
“Well, I did, and that was fine with both of us. You haven’t got a choice here either. It’s just done.”
Her breath was heaving, shuddering as she tried to calm it. Temper—her temper—she knew, was horrible when unlocked. And when the key was turned with pain, so much the worse. “That’s cruel, and it’s cold.”
Where the temper had missed its mark, the quiet words arrowed straight into his heart. “That’s life.”
“Just done.” She let the tears come, they hardly mattered. “So that’s how this sort of thing is accomplished. You say it’s just done, and it is. So much less complicated than divorce, which is the only way I’ve ended a relationship.”
“I didn’t cheat on you.” He couldn’t bear having her think that of him, or herself. “I never thought of another woman when I was with you. This has nothing to do with you. I’ve just got places to go.”
“Nothing to do with me.” She closed her eyes. The temper was gone now, quickly as always. Drained to exhaustion. “I never would have said you were a stupid man, Michael, or a shallow one. But if you can say that, you’re both.”
She lifted her hands, rubbed away the tears. She wanted to see him clearly, since it would be the last time. He was rough, wild, moody. He was, she thought, everything.
“I wonder that you don’t even know what you’re throwing away, what I would have given you. What you could have had with me, and Ali and Kayla.”
“They’re your kids.” This was another hurt, just as deep, just as bloody. “Templetons. You wouldn’t have given them to me.”
“You’re wrong, pathetically wrong. I already had.” She walked to the door, opened it. “You do what you have to do and go where you have to go. But don’t ever think it was just sex for me. I loved you. And the only thing more pitiful than that is that even as you turn me away like this, so carelessly, I still do.”
Chapter Twenty
Michael took a step forward, then stopped himself. She didn’t know what she was saying. Couldn’t know.