Break The Rules

by CC MacKenzie

  He broke off as Danni leapt to her feet, got her cell phone, slid the screen and then showed him the evidence.

  When Pascale clicked on the picture and Linda's short video, something like horror gripped his heart. If only they had been taken a few seconds before and a few seconds after he would be in the clear.

  He shook his head and placed her phone on the table.

  "That is not what happened. It is not what it looked like."

  She nodded, returned to her seat. "I know. My mother has sent me three emails and four increasingly desperate text messages with blow by blow accounts. And my father tells me this is not the first time she's played these games."

  Gaze fixed to her face, he leaned across the table. "You believe me?"

  "Yes... but..."

  Between one heartbeat and the next, he was out of the chair and had her in his arms.

  All he wanted to do was just hold her, just like this.

  Forever.

  "But..." she said, her voice muffled in his chest.

  He shifted enough to gaze upon her flushed and beautiful face. "But?"

  Wary hazel eyes held his. "I want us to take this slow."

  He nodded.

  Okay.

  He could do slow.

  His deep inhale through his nose was filled with a heady relief. "I need to shower."

  "Believe me, you do. There's a pair of jogging pants and a T-shirt on the bed."

  Again he held her close before releasing her and headed for the shower.

  Well, at least she had not thrown him out of the door.

  Pascale reckoned that was called good news.

  ***

  After catching up with her fashion blog and sharing shots from readers, Danni touched base with T.C.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked.

  "A lot better today, especially after hot sex with Sean."

  Danni had to laugh. "TMI, thank you very much."

  "I can't wait to tell you and Ana the story of his reaction to the suggestion to a face pack and moisturizer."

  The picture the idea painted in her head had Danni laugh again. "I can't see it myself."

  "I thought he was gonna pee his pants, bless him."

  The ring of true affection in T.C.'s voice, made Danni's eyes sting. "That's so lovely. You're happy. I can hear it."

  T.C. sighed. "You need to quit with the little bow and arrow. How did the meeting go with Pascale?"

  "Not great," Danni admitted. "Then he turned up at my door roaring drunk. He kept talking in French—really fast French, saying that he loved me. He can't live without me. Yada-yada."

  "Wow."

  "Before you ask, he spent the night on the couch."

  "And I bet you hovered over him like a mother hen."

  Busted.

  "He's had breakfast and a shower."

  "Where is he now?"

  Good question.

  Danni hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since.

  With her cell at her ear, she padded into her bedroom, to find him dressed in long cotton pants and sound asleep on top of her comforter.

  "Snoring his head off on my bed," she whispered.

  "Aw. Poor guy. Gillian really put the two of you through the wringer."

  As she closed the door and returned to her desk, Danni's soft heart went hard as stone.

  "She won't get another chance. She's burned every single bridge this time. And Daddy's found love."

  "Really? Good for Tom. Who is she?"

  "Dunno. He wants this nasty crap from Gillian to blow over. I hope she's nice. He deserves a little peace and happiness."

  "He does. So... are things good with Pascale?"

  "I've told him I want to slow the whole thing down. Everything happened too fast between us."

  "This has shaken your confidence. I can hear it in your voice."

  Danni thought about it as she sat at her desk and scrolled through her email on her PC.

  "Do you ever feel things sometimes go too well?"

  "Nope."

  "I'm over thinking things again, aren't I?"

  "Yup."

  "I've often wondered what he's doing with me, you know? I mean, he could have anyone..."

  "But he chose you, Danni. Unlike me, you have a good and kind heart. Even Sean reckons you're as lovely on the inside as you are on the outside."

  "Maybe. But I won't wear Pascale's ring. Not yet."

  "Okay. That's up to you. Keep me posted."

  "I will. And you take care of you, too. Hugs."

  "Hugs rightbackatcha."

  When Danni ended the call, she sat for a long time just thinking through the conversation.

  It seemed T.C. was on the road to a better place with a man who cared deeply about her.

  If anyone deserved happiness, it was T.C.

  As for herself, she just couldn't get the picture of her mother and Pascale in a clinch out of her head. A little part of her wondered if she'd ever be able to move beyond the sense of betrayal and a hurt that had burrowed deep into her heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  "Danni's back with Pascale," T.C. told Sean.

  A Sean who'd prepared a bag of salad and was in the process of grilling a couple of steaks. An hour earlier, he'd placed two huge baked potatoes in the oven and the smell was sublime.

  She'd felt a little queasy this afternoon and he'd insisted she drink ginger tea, have a plain cookie and a nap.

  All three seemed to have done the trick.

  She tugged at the too big waist of her knee length leggings.

  Seemed she was still losing weight, which was weird.

  He turned to eye her. "You're becoming too skinny, darlin'."

  "I'm not eating chocolate. Who'd have thought I'd need to get pregnant to switch off the sugar gene."

  He made a face as he thought about it and nodded. "Plus, you've not been guzzling white wine."

  Insulted, she glared. "I never guzzled."

  "When you were out partying with your friends, you used to knock back at least a couple of huge glasses. I was there. I saw it."

  So?

  Who was he to judge?

  She narrowed her eyes. "How come one minute I really like you and the next I want to punch you in the mouth?"

  He came around the worktop to grab her in a hug and kiss her senseless. "Because what we have is real."

  She kissed him back. "Just as well. I don't do hearts and flowers."

  "Don't think I haven't noticed."

  "Actions speak louder than words," she murmured as she slid her hands beneath his T-shirt and up his bare back to explore his exceptional body.

  He wiggled his brows. "This is not Paris and I'm not vulnerable."

  She lifted her chin and grinned up into his wonderful face. "I loved the fact you were vulnerable. So, shoot me."

  Brandy eyes danced into hers. "Don't think I haven't thought about it," he growled.

  In response, she rubbed her pelvis into his. "Big liar."

  "Keep that up and I'll burn the food."

  "Why is it we can't get enough of each other?"

  "Chemistry. Karma. The fact I adore you."

  She blinked. "You adore me?"

  "I do."

  "Well, that's a first."

  "I was thinking we could go for a walk after dinner, maybe have a drink at the pub?"

  She thought about it and decided it was time she got out of the house.

  "Sure."

  His nose nudged hers. "And it's a soft drink for you."

  "I'm not complaining."

  Since she lifted it in invitation, he dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. "That's a first," he mimicked.

  "You are such a man, Sean."

  He gently spanked her ass.

  "One hundred percent testosterone, babe."

  ***

  T.C. couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a slow stroll down the sidewalk hand in hand with a man.

  She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so conten
t.

  The word happy circled in her mind, but she refused to go there.

  Little steps.

  They meandered through Green Park, heading for a quiet bar with a roof terrace. Since the night was balmy, the place was busy. Sean settled her at a round table overlooking the comings and goings below and T.C. let her mind drift.

  He returned with a ginger beer for her and a beer for himself.

  She felt his eyes on her and turned to find him thoroughly checking her out.

  When she lifted her brows, his firm mouth twitched, but didn't curve. "I like you in a dress," he said.

  It was a statement, not a criticism. "I try to make an effort when I go out in public. The downside of working from home is that I can crawl out of bed and stay in my pj's all day, if I feel like it."

  "You like being your own boss."

  "I do." It was funny, she thought, that when she'd first saw him, the thin scar that ran from eye to mouth had put her off. Now she didn't notice it. This time it was his turn to lift his brow in silent question. She asked, "How did you get your scar?"

  He ran a finger down the wound. "Being a brave soldier."

  "Is it top secret?"

  "Not really. But it's not something I talk about."

  Oooookay.

  "Tell me about your family," she said, determined to keep the conversation light and easy.

  "I am the youngest of four children. I have three older sisters and a mother," he drawled, the dance of Ireland in his voice.

  She blinked. "No father?"

  "My father was English. He met my mother in Cork during a walking holiday around the coast of Ireland. He died serving his country when I was too small to remember him. My mother took us back to Ireland and brought us up on her own."

  "I'm sorry," she said, feeling totally inadequate. "What do your sisters do?"

  "They're married. Susan's got one kid and is a staff nurse. Louise has two kids and is a stay at home mother. Jackie is a GP with no kids yet."

  "Wow. And what does your mother do?"

  "She runs the family farm with help from her two bachelor brothers."

  "So as the only boy, the farm will come to you?"

  He grinned. "Nope. I don't have a passion for manure and dirt."

  "I can see you driving a huge tractor."

  "Me, too, for like five minutes."

  "Is that it?"

  "I also have an uncle and six cousins. They live in the town of Old Ludlow."

  "Ah, so that's how you know Nico Ferranti."

  He shook his head. "I met Nico through his head of Ferranti Security, Marc Atelier. Marc recently married my cousin Elena. When Anastacia needed protection, Marc suggested my company. And here we are."

  "Here we are indeed. What does Elena do?"

  "Elena runs the administration team at Ludlow Hall. Liam and Adam are policemen. Joe is an Accident and Emergency registrar. Rourke and Aidan are in the military. Their father, my uncle Daniel, is like a second father to me. He's a retired police sergeant."

  "Wow. All of them either serve their community or their country."

  He nodded. "My father's side of the family have served Queen and country for over two hundred years."

  She noticed there was a quiet pride in his voice in those lion eyes steady on hers.

  It struck her that they came from two completely different backgrounds and that they had absolutely nothing in common. Except they couldn't keep their hands off each other. And they'd made a child.

  "Never married?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "Never met a woman I felt I could live with long term."

  For some reason, nerves danced in her belly.

  What happened to keeping the conversation light and easy?

  "So you want to marry me because of the baby."

  "The baby is a bonus I never saw coming."

  A determination entered her heart. "I'm going to be THE best mother," she said fiercely.

  "I know you are."

  The absolute certainty in his voice had her frown. "How do you know? I might be the mother from hell."

  "Not possible. I've seen you with Nico and Bronte's children. I've seen the way baby Eve coories into your neck."

  "Coories?"

  "Irish. It means to cosy her face into you for comfort. She loves you."

  "Well, she's a cute kid. I love her, too. But that's not the same as bringing up a child twenty-four-seven. I might scar her for life."

  His brows rose. "Her?"

  "I can't explain how I know. We'll be pals. Go shopping. Bake cakes."

  "You can't cook," he reminded her, his eyes dancing.

  "I'll learn," she shot back.

  "I'll learn, too."

  Utterly thrilled with him, she grinned. "You in an apron? I'd pay good money to see that."

  "I'll see what I can do," he drawled.

  "I'll pay double if you're naked."

  In response to her statement, he reached across the table to find her hand and link their fingers. He squeezed gently, and all the while his eyes never left her face. "You are a bad, bad, girl, Theresa. I can safely say that I have never, ever, met a woman like you."

  "I'm not sure that's a compliment."

  Now his mouth curved. "Looking for a compliment, darlin'?"

  "You're dancing on the shaky edge of a punch to the mouth."

  He grinned. "And that right there, that snark and the fire in your eyes, is why I adore you."

  She took a deep breath, exhaled. "And if I say I like you, too?"

  His brows shot into his hairline. "Like? I know you more than like me, sweetheart. But, I'll give you time. I'm growing on you, admit it."

  She sent him a hard stare. "Yup. Like fungoid."

  His deep laugh of appreciation had people turn to look. "You said that before."

  Now her brows rose. "When?"

  "That first time I saw you in Ana's office."

  "You frisked me."

  "I did. And what a pleasure it was for sure. You blew me away."

  She blinked. "I did? I seem to remember pissing you off."

  "Yes. Your dirty mouth pissed me off. I just remember thinking that you were a blonde bombshell."

  Now it was T.C.'s turn to laugh out loud. "A bombshell? Me? Are you insane? I'm curvy..."

  The look in his eyes for her, easy affection and pure lust stopped her in her tracks.

  "I love your curves," he said softly. "I love the feel of you in my hands, the smell and the sounds you make when I make love to you."

  Heat flooded her cheeks.

  God, was it suddenly hot in here?

  "Would you like another drink?" he asked her.

  All T.C. could do was shake her head. "I'm good."

  He took her hand. "Then let's go and we can talk more about why you're a blonde, blue-eyed, bombshell."

  This time as they strolled towards the park and home, he had his arm around her shoulder while hers was around his waist.

  The sun dipped low in a blue sky and she reckoned it was the simple things in life that meant the most.

  When the moment that changed her life happened, she didn't hear it approach.

  There was no warning at all.

  Two boys racing bicycles on the sidewalk sped around the corner and cannoned straight into them.

  And the world went dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Danni tip-toed into her bedroom to find Pascale lying on his back, bare feet crossed at the ankles and strong arms folded behind his head.

  His amazing chest was bare.

  And his eyes were fixed on her.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked.

  And realized the reason for the little dance in her belly was because Monsieur Wolfe was back.

  In response, he didn't speak, but reach out his hand, palm up.

  Her hesitation didn't last more than a split second.

  She placed her hand in his and he drew her right in.

  "I am feeling better. Much better. You
watched me through the night, did you not?"

  Unable to speak for the look in his eyes, for her, she nodded.

  "You care for me."

  She nodded.

  "You love me."

  She didn't move a muscle.

  His brow rose. "I love you, Danielle."

  "Do you?" she whispered.

  "Oui. I cannot live without you."

  The truth was clear to see in his eyes, in the tone of his voice.

  "I'm scared."

  "I understand," he said softly. "As far as parental role models are concerned, neither of us have the best examples to follow."

  The look of raw pain in his eyes twisted her heart.

  He never spoke of his family.

  There were so many things she did not know about this man.

  And yet, he hid nothing of his feelings from her.

  "She said I was too young for you," Danni told him.

  Pascale's black brows rose. "I do not see age as an issue. Do you?"

  She shook her head because from the moment she'd met him, saw him, her feelings had felt so right.

  "I'm not a party animal," she admitted as if it was a cardinal sin.

  "Neither am I, in spite of the lurid imaginations of the tabloid press."

  "I feel as if she's spoiled everything we had," Danni admitted her innermost secrets and fears in one sentence.

  "We cannot look to the past, or the future. We can only live in what we have together now. Do you understand?"

  Danni searched her heart, focused on the way his fingers threaded through hers.

  His hand was so much bigger and stronger and the skin darker than hers.

  And yet, together, they had the chance to find something wonderful.

  Together.

  The word made her eyes sting, her throat burn.

  The man who held her hand never bowed down to anyone.

  She knew that.

  And yet, he'd come to her drunk, on his knees, to tell her he loved her.

  Did she believe him?

  Could she take a chance?

  Would she be able to trust him?

  As her gaze lifted from their joined hands to meet his, he opened his arms.