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She didn’t want to be that idiot girl again, and if anyone could sway her back into the path of destruction it was a juggernaut like Dane. And the worst of it was he would remain unscathed. The way he always had before. For him, sex was always just sex—and that hadn’t changed, or he would never have suggested another night of no-holds-barred sex after the tumult of the last twenty-four hours.
But why wouldn’t he when he didn’t have to worry about stirring up old feelings because he had never loved her the way she’d loved him? He’d only suggested marriage because of the guilt and responsibility he’d felt over her pregnancy—and, however her father had interfered in their break-up, it was obvious their marriage had been doomed to failure.
Deep down, she would always be a romantic—an easy target for a man like Dane who didn’t have a single soft or sensitive or romantic bone in his body.
He’d never let her in. Had never let his guard down during the whole three months they’d lived in that motel.
He finally let go of her wrist and she scooted to the edge of the bed to put on the T-shirt, feeling awkward and insecure, reminded too much of that romantic child.
‘So you’re running daddy’s company now?’
She dragged the T-shirt over her head. ‘It’s not his company any more. It’s mine.’
Or it would be as soon as she had Dane’s signature on those divorce documents and the controlling 6 per cent of the shares could be released to her.
She swallowed down a prickle of guilt at her deception. Dane had no claim on Carmichael’s—it was simply a paperwork error. A paperwork error that, once corrected, he need never know about.
‘He hated my guts when we were kids...’
The non sequitur sounded casual, but she could hear the bite in his voice and knew it was anything but.
What did he expect her to say? That her father had been a snob and had decreed Dane unsuitable? How could she defend Dane without compromising herself and her decision to take on Carmichael’s after her father’s death? The company had meant everything to her father and she understood that now—because it meant everything to her. And if a small voice in her head was trying to deny that and assert that there was more to life than running a successful business, it was merely an echo of that foolish girl who had believed that love was enough.
‘He didn’t hate you,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he just thought he was doing what was best for me.’
Even as she said the words they sounded hollow to her, but she refused to condemn her father. He had loved her in his own way—while Dane never had.
‘Did it ever occur to you that if I’d been able to see you that day, things might have turned out differently?’ He raised a knee and the casually draped sheet dipped to his waistline.
His expression was infuriatingly unreadable. As always.
‘I don’t see how.’ She hesitated, trying to force thick words out past the frog in her throat. ‘And it worked out okay for both of us, so I have no regrets.’
She turned away from the bed, desperate not to be having this conversation. It would expose her. She didn’t wa
nt him to know how hard it had been for her. How much losing him and their baby had hurt her at the time. And how much else it had eventually cost her.
But he reached over and snagged her wrist again. ‘That’s bullshit. And you want to know how I know it’s bullshit?’
‘Not particularly,’ she said, far too aware of the way his thumb was stroking her pulse, hoping he couldn’t feel it hammering in her wrist like the wings of a trapped hummingbird.
‘Last night you had a nightmare about losing the baby,’ he said. ‘That’s why I stayed. That’s why I was here when you woke up. Maybe if I had been able to do that ten years ago, I wouldn’t still need to do it now.’
Her pulse pummelled her eardrums. She wanted to ask him how he knew she’d been having a nightmare about the miscarriage. But she definitely didn’t want to know how she’d given herself away in her sleep. She felt vulnerable enough already.
‘You didn’t need to stay. I would have been fine. I’ve had them before and...’
She realised her mistake when his expression hardened.
‘How many times have you had them before?’
Too many.
‘Not often,’ she lied.
‘That bastard.’ His fury wasn’t directed at her, but still she felt the force of his anger.
‘It’s okay. Really. I’ve come to terms with what happened.’
