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Urs squeezed harder and somehow he managed to keep talking. “After we buried her I went to Hong Kong. Her family was kind, especially as I didn’t want any of the company. Her son took his place and they still use Truitt Industries, though I no longer handle that account.”
They’d all been so civilized, so polite, so genteel. Him, included. He’d yearned to scream, to cry, to tear his hair for all that might have been, but that wasn’t what was expected. That wasn’t how he was raised. He found something though, something that took those urges away.
He raised his head into blinking blue eyes behind wet, black lashes. Everything he wanted to bury right there on her face. It wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve that reaction from her.
She cocked her head, her voice still somehow steady. “And you told no one? You kept this all to yourself, bore it all alone?”
“Not until today,” he said. “Not until you.”
Ursula turned the information in her head. She’d sussed out the source of the rumors. The best lies always had a grain of truth. Someone’d found out—probably an employee of the Truitts—and used the information for a scheme. Delaware was so small and the gossip so thick...but why had J.T. Truitt believed strangers, not his own son?
Rage boiled in Ursula’s veins as her heart answered the question. His father paid those people money behind Jay’s back and treated Jay like a child, who wasn’t even fit to be questioned in the matter. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. Jay punished himself even after he tried to take responsibility for his actual mistake, after he tried to prevent Sophie from bearing the burden alone. And yet, no one, not even his family, saw who he really was.
She balled her fists under the table, clenching and unclenching them. How could she fix this? How could she make it better?
“But there have been women since Sophie—you haven’t given us up.” The statement was out of her mouth before she could analyze the consequences.
Jay grimaced.
Blast.
She reached out and squeezed his hand harder. “That’s not a criticism, Jay. I want to understand.”
“I failed as a husband, as a parent, but I still enjoy giving pleasure. Often giving more than receiving, because in those moments, I feel...” Jay shrugged again.
Ursula’s body stilled. This was the cusp of something. “You feel what?”
“Useful, I suppose, or competent or good or something more than what my parents and cousins—” He gazed at the coffered ceiling.
But he was so very good at so many things. He made people feel special and happy: her, her family, strangers. It was the best skill, the most important. How could he not know?
The image of J.T. Truitt’s pained expression when they’d bumped into him and Jay’s overly serious cousins flashed through her mind.
They were wrong. They were all wrong. But how could she convince any of them or, more importantly, convince the man sitting in front of her, staring past her into the ether, his mind someplace dark.
Jay slumped backward, and his shirt spread again. Could he be more handsome? New images flashed in her head. What would it be to sit on his lap and run her fingers through his hair while he pulled her dress over her—what in the world was wrong with her? He was in pain and she was thinking about him and her and it was inappropriate and ill-advised and...brilliant.
She bit her lip and nodded even though she’d said nothing aloud. Genius, actually. What better way to show that she trusted him, that she didn’t think less of him?
“Show me,” she said.
“What?” Jay’s head shot up and he dropped his hand, giving her a full view of his pair of kings with a singular queen.
“Or demonstrate, teach me, you know, like with poker.” She chewed on the tip of her tongue. How could she explain what she wanted?
“It’s not like poker, Urs.” Jay frowned
at her—not a good sign.
“Yes, it is. You said it’s enjoyable and I like doing enjoyable things with you. It isn’t like you haven’t—” Ursula swallowed. “Pleased hundreds of women. What’s one more?” She raised an eyebrow, imitating his most charming mannerism. If he was going to be the one who felt lesser than, she was going to have to take on his role.
His frown deepened to a scowl. “I haven’t ‘pleased’ hundreds of women. Rumors of my prowess have been greatly exaggerated and you have too keen an imagination. Further—” He bit his lip. “I’ve never—” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I want to make this point very clear, Urs, as I said before, I’ve never forced or manipulated a woman into doing something she didn’t want or would regret and I’m sure as Hell not starting now. What I said wasn’t intended to make you offer anything.” He grabbed his hand and squeezed, bending the cards. They’d need to purchase another deck.
Bollocks.
Didn’t he want her, at least a little?
“You aren’t interested?” The words were intended to sound playful but fell flat.
