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“Are you ever going to tell me who’s waiting for you in Cedar Rapids?” Vanessa asked.
It took Preston so long to respond that Manuel feared, for a moment, the phone had cut out. But finally, the answer came. “Probably not.”
His phone lost its signal then, and Manuel cursed. He would’ve liked to continue listening. But he’d heard enough.
Smiling, he raised his wineglass in a toast. So Vanessa wanted to know who was waiting for Preston in Cedar Rapids?
With any luck, he and Hector would be waiting for them both.
HEADLIGHTS STREAMED toward them, but Max was asleep and Preston was driving, so Emma watched each car pass with half-closed eyes. They’d had dinner in Omaha and moved on, traveling so long she’d lost track of time and place. All she understood was that Juanita was dead and Manuel had killed her.
She’d known there was something wrong with Max’s father, but this…Poor Juanita. Thinking of what she must have suffered made Emma ill. How could Manuel do such a thing? That question echoed through her mind again and again. She had no answer.
Maybe she should’ve stayed with him. Then Juanita would still be alive.
Fatigue dragged at her arms as she rubbed her face. She couldn’t have stayed with him. Living with him was killing her by degrees. She had the right to seek a decent life, didn’t she? And what about Max? He, at least, deserved the future she envisioned for him instead of the cold, empty life they’d been living.
“How’d your son die?” Emma asked suddenly. She couldn’t stand her own thoughts any longer. She needed to talk. And even though she knew Preston wouldn’t appreciate the topic she’d chosen, she was tired of being kept at a distance. He was willing to make love to her, listen to her, comfort her, help her. But he wouldn’t let her do anything for him. Most of the time he wouldn’t even let her drive.
He glanced over but didn’t answer.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Misery loves company, is that it?”
“You think I’m trying to hurt you?”
He scowled. “There’s no point in delving into the past. Forget it.”
“Like you’ve forgotten it?”
The veins stood out on his forearms as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You’re angry, and you’re looking for a target. I’m not going to give you one.”
“Of course I’m angry. A wonderful woman was murdered this week—by my child’s father. I keep wondering how I could have avoided this? Where did I go wrong? I was twenty-two when I made the decision to get involved with Manuel. How was I supposed to know he wasn’t what he appeared to be? That he’d change so much? How was I supposed to know that caring about the wrong person could destroy my life?”
“It’s a tough lesson to learn, but a lot of people have to learn it,” he said.
“People like you?” she asked.
“Stop it, Emma.”
“You want to make love to me again,” she whispered.
He didn’t deny it.
“And you want me to feel something when you do.”
He didn’t deny that, either.
“Yet you’ve shut yourself off from me completely.”
He wouldn’t look at her. “I’m not in a position to give you and Max what you need.”
“Bullshit! That’s a cop-out,” she said. “You could care about me, if you’d let yourself. But your grief stands between us. And you won’t share it with me, won’t allow me to carry some of the load.”
“There’s more to it than grief, Emma. Let it go.”
She didn’t want to let it go. Letting it go, meant letting him go. “Tell me what happened.”
No answer.
“Who’s Vince?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’ll help you and Max get settled in a weekly motel or a house or someplace like that. Then I’m leaving.”
The finality of his declaration took her by surprise—and stung even more than she’d expected. “You’re putting me on notice?”
“I’ve been honest about what to expect all along.”
“Expecting more, and wanting more, are two different things,” she said softly.
His scowl eased. “What I want has nothing to do with it, Emma.”
“So tonight would just be one for the road?”
He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be like that.”
She’d been there, knew exactly what it’d be like. She’d give almost anything to make love with Preston again, but she couldn’t bear the pain of having him turn his back on her afterward. Trying to rebuild her life after Manuel was bad enough. She couldn’t afford to let Preston break her heart when she needed to be strong.
“There are some things I have to do, Emma,” he said when she didn’t respond. “I don’t know what my life will be like after that.”
“And you’re offering me this great insight into your complexity because…”
“I don’t want you to think tonight would be meaningless to me.”
“You say this on the heels of ‘I’m out of here’?” she said bitterly. “Well, don’t bother trying to convince me, because I don’t want you to touch me.” She was already struggling with her guilt and sadness over Juanita’s death and the knowledge that Manuel was now a murderer. She didn’t need to add to that any disappointment over the fact that the one man who could claim her, heart and soul, wasn’t willing to make the necessary sacrifice. The necessary compromise…
His gaze shifted from the road to linger in all the places she wanted him to put his hands, and for a second he lost the mask of indifference he wore so often. Naked desire showed on his face, riveting, hot. The sheer intensity caused her ni**les to strain against her shirt. He made a liar out of her—that easily. She did want him to touch her. She just couldn’t settle for one last night.
Finally, he met her eyes. “You want to make love to me as badly as I want to make love to you.”
She shook her head. She’d already spent six years with Manuel, longing for more than he was capable of. “Not if your body is all you’re willing to give me.”
He drove in silence for several minutes. “I thought you were going to take up sleeping with any man you wanted,” he said at last.
“That doesn’t apply to you.”
