Chapter Four
Adam straightened his arms at his sides and balled his hands into fists.His muscles trembled at the effort to restrain himself.His angry words, so filled with frustration and hurt, hung between them, echoing silently against the kitchen walls.
Damn her for forcing him to give it all away.Control, he told himself.Get control.But it was useless.Hot emotion tumbled through his body, swept on by heated blood.It bubbled and rolled within him, building with speed and pressure until the explosion became inevitable.
“It wasn’t like that,” she said, speaking so softly he had to strain to hear her.“I never meant it to happen that way.I thought—”
He swore loudly, the vulgar word cutting off her apology.“You thought?”he asked sarcastically, his rage burning the last of his civility.“What did you think?That no one would notice?That I’d get over being publicly humiliated?That your running away wouldn’t be the topic of conversation around town for months?”
She lowered her head.She’d pulled her long hair back in aloose braid.Bangs hung down her forehead, but her neck and ears were exposed.A dull red flush climbed from the neck of her T-shirt to her hairline.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?Is that the best you can do?There was nothing, Jane.Not one damn word.I’d seen you drive up with your mother.You were in the church.Then you disappeared.What the hell happened?”
She opened her mouth to answer.He cut her off.“Don’t bother.”He turned away and faced the cupboards.If he continued to look at her, he wasn’t sure what might happen.“We all waited for almost an hour.I heard the people talking.I told myself there was a problem with the dress, or that you’d broken a heel.”
He didn’t have to try to remember that afternoon.The sounds and smells enveloped him like the clammy mist of summer fog.She’d insisted that the church be filled with roses.White roses.That scent had haunted his sleep for months.
He pressed his palms against the counter, as if the tile could cool his heated blood.He’d thought he’d forgotten it all, but the past broke through the wall of his control, swept across his emotions, unleashing the potential for destruction.Again his fingers curled toward his palms as if he could squeeze out the memories.Or the person who had caused them.
“Adam, I’m sorry,” she said, interrupting his struggle to maintain a semblance of composure.“So very sorry.It was never about you.You’ve got to believe that.It was about me.”
“You’ve got that right.”He spun to face her.“You ran away.It was a childish thing to do.I’m the one who had to deal with the aftermath of your behavior and make up some story about what had happened when I didn’t have a clue.I’m the one who sent the notes of apology, returned the gifts and paid the bill for a reception that didn’t happen.”
She raised her head.Unshed tears glistened in her hazel eyes.She blinked frantically, but it didn’t help.A single drop rolled down her cheek.At one time her distress would have moved him.He would have gathered her in his arms and murmured words of comfort.Not anymore.
“Typical,” he said, shaking his head.“The going gets tough and you cry.You haven’t grown up at all.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Don’t talk to me about fair.What do you know about it?Did you ever give any thought to what you left behind?You squawk about my not coming after you.Lady, even if I’d wanted to, I didn’t have the time.Someone had to handle damage control.I know all you were interested in was seeing how easily you could wrap me around your little finger, but I had—and, no thanks to you—still have a position to think of in this community.I do business with most of the town.I was putting my sister and brother through college.Did you ever stop to think that the fine people of Orchard might not want to trust their money to a bank president who’d been stood up at the altar?That they might begin to wonder if there was some flaw only you knew about?”
Despite the embarrassment staining her cheeks, she paled.“They wouldn’t have.”
“Think again.”
She raised her arm as if offering an apology.“I didn’t know.”
He glared at her and she dropped her arm to her side.“You didn’t bother to find out,” he said.“All you could think of was yourself.”
“It wasn’t like that.I tried to tell you—”
“When?I was standing there in the front of the church.Like a fool.When I figured out something was wrong, I was pretty much a captive audience.If you were trying to get my attention, you got it.But you didn’t have the guts to stay and talk.That’s what gets me the most.Not one word of warning.”
“I did try to talk to you.Before the wedding.You wouldn’t listen.”
He reached for the T-shirt hanging over his shoulder and pulled it down.She jerked her head at the movement, as if she’d suspected he would hit her.Her reaction inflamed him.Despite her actions, he’d never given her reason to fear him.
“I listened but all we talked about was the wedding,” he said, his jaw tight with suppressed emotion.“Do you want pale pink or blush for the napkins?”He raised his voice mockingly.“Wild rice or steamed potatoes?”
“If you disliked my conversation so much, why did you want to marry me?”
He folded his arms over his chest.“Everybody’s entitled to one mistake.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed.Another tear rolled down her cheek.“And I’m yours?”
“You said it, lady, not me.”
