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‘I didn’t have a problem,’ he said. ‘Until now.’
As he turned to leave Rye grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him back. ‘My wife spent three hours cooking dinner tonight. She wanted to make this special. For you.’ Rye gave him a derogatory look. ‘Because you’re important to her. Although I can’t imagine why, because it’s pretty obvious she’s not important to you.’
Cal’s temper snapped as the guilt he always kept strictly leashed flared to life. He pulled his arm out of Rye’s grasp. ‘Back off. My relationship with my sister is none of your business.’
Rye gave a harsh laugh. ‘Think again. She’s my wife. I’m the one has to watch her fight to hold the tears back when you say you’re coming and don’t show. Or give her some stupid excuse why you can’t make it at the last minute. Do you have any idea how much that hurts her, knowing you don’t give a damn about her?’
The dart hit home, but Cal refused to let it show on his face, his expression rigid. ‘It was never my intention to hurt her.’
Rye’s eyes narrowed, then his brows rose. ‘Damn. You really don’t get it, do you?’
‘Get what?’
‘That she’s never going to stop caring about you. Maddy’s not made that way. She never gives up on people—even you.’
‘Thanks for the lecture. I’ll bear it in mind.’ Cal turned to walk away, an emotion burning in his chest that he didn’t recognise or understand. He never lost control, because he’d spent so much of his childhood despising his parents for always losing theirs. But when Maddy had told him about the new baby, he’d been frozen in place, unable to congratulate her, unable to voice his joy at her announcement—or deal with the crushing sense of inadequacy. Maddy had always asked so little of him. So why did he feel incapable of giving her even this much?
As he opened the door Rye’s parting shot stopped him dead. ‘Don’t hurt my wife again. Or I’ll hurt you.’
It was an empty threat. Maddy would be devastated if her husband and her brother came to blows and Rye had to know that. But even so, Cal glanced back. Seeing the anger and the turmoil in Rye’s face, he was forced to acknowledge the truth.
Rye was right. His sister wasn’t going to let him go, however much he might want her to.
He gave a stiff nod. ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
ENTERING the large attic bedroom, Cal came to an abrupt halt as he spotted Ruby on the opposite side of the room. The sight of her sitting in the window seat, her legs curled under her and her head buried in a paperback novel was so unexpected and so beguiling, it momentarily wiped the ugly scene with Rye from his mind.
With her riotous hair tied back, her face scrubbed clean and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose, she could easily have been mistaken for a solemn, thoughtful schoolgirl.
An unsettling picture formed in his mind of her as a child, valiantly struggling to cope with her mother’s death and her brother’s rejection—and was swiftly followed by the feeling of hopelessness and futility that had dogged him throughout his own childhood. But then his gaze dipped, and he took in the outline of her nipples through the sheer material of her nightgown.
The familiar pulse of heat had him shaking off the thought as he crossed the room. Any common ground he and Ruby shared was cosmetic and purely coincidental.
And the problem at the moment wasn’t her family. It was his.
He hadn’t set out to hurt his sister, but he had. Which meant he’d have to figure out a way to apologise tomorrow. Not a conversation he was looking forward to.
‘At last, we’re finally alone,’ he said, tension tightening his shoulders as he kicked off his loafers and lay down on the wide bed.
Ruby’s head lifted. She took her glasses off and put her book down. Slipping the band out of her hair, she shook out the mass of curls as she stepped off the window seat. As if by magic, any traces of the studious little girl disappeared and she evolved into the voluptuous take-no-prisoners virago he had come to know.
Cal heaved out a sigh as he watched her stroll towards him, the muscles in his shoulders beginning to loosen as he took in the seductive sway of her hips and the way the nightgown slid over her curves. A new, more sublime tension tightened his groin.
Thank God he’d brought her along. Sinking into Ruby’s lush, responsive body was the perfect way to forget the ordeal he had in store for tomorrow.
‘Come here.’ He patted the mattress, then folded his arms behind his head and fixed his gaze on the fascinating glimpse of cleavage displayed by her wispy nightgown. ‘And prepare to be ravished for the rest of the night.’
She gave a throaty laugh. ‘Forget it,’ she purred. ‘No ravishing allowed tonight.’
He grasped her wrist, tugged her on top of him. ‘Stop playing hard to get.’
She laughed again, but drew back. ‘I’m serious. We’re not making love when there’s a three-year-old sleeping down the hall.’
His shoulders tensed right back up again. ‘Since when did you become a prude?’
She smiled that superior smile that women only ever used when a guy was desperate. ‘Ever since you turned me into a screamer.’
