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He’d always known he couldn’t risk fathering a child. He stared at the backs of his hands, so large and rough against her delicate frame. His father’s hands.
She stiffened, making the tremor in her shoulders more pronounced. ‘You’re right, a pregnancy would be a disaster,’ she said. ‘But I’d rather not talk about it now.’
Why did she sound so formal, so polite?
‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice even as he kissed the top of her head. ‘A good night’s sleep is what we both need. And we’ll sort this mess out in the morning.’ If he could just hold her, he could make it right.
She turned, shrugging off his hands. ‘I’m really tired. I think I’ll sleep in the guest suite.’
And with that she was gone.
He took a step forward, determined to get her to come back, then stopped himself.
Where the hell did he think he was going?
He had to get a grip, to ease off, to give her some space. To give them both some space.
They’d been living in each other’s pockets for close to two weeks and somehow he’d let the company, the sense of companionship get to him. Which was exactly why he’d lost leave of his senses in the shower. If this was going to work, he’d have to learn to start backing off. And that meant not giving in to every damn stupid urge where she was concerned. One night without her beside him wouldn’t do any harm. In fact it would probably do them both a great deal of good.
Chapter Seventeen
MAC had revised his opinion a fair bit by eight the next morning, having spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in his empty bed.
Something about the way they’d parted had niggled constantly at the back of his mind. He’d been thoughtless and overbearing and she’d had every right to call him on it. But why hadn’t she been more angry, more upset with him? She’d been so calm, so controlled, and the more he thought about it, the more it unnerved him.
He had the definite feeling he’d missed something vitally important.
Juno sat at the table, finishing a bowl of muesli as he walked into the kitchen.
‘Hello there,’ he said, sounding heartier than he felt. ‘You sleep well?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, so politely it made him wince. She didn’t look up.
Undeterred, he placed his hand on her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her cheek.
And she shifted away.
Damn it, what was this now? Was she mad with him after all?
He braced himself for the tirade he’d expected the night before, but she kept her head bent over the bowl and carried on scooping up the cereal in careful, precise spoonfuls.
Was she waiting for him to say something first? He sighed. Best to get it over with.
He grabbed the box of cereal, poured himself a generous helping while trying to figure out what to say without making an ass of himself.
‘I’ll apologise again for treating you the way I did last night. We both got carried away and then I overreacted and went off on one. I’m sorry.’
Her spoon stayed in the bowl. But she still didn’t look at him. The niggling got worse.
‘There was no need for you to sleep alone,’ he pointed out, rather reasonably, he thought.
Her hand lay on the table. He reached over, covered it with his. ‘How about we forget it ever happened? A pregnancy’s a long shot with you so close to the end of your cycle. And if there is one, well, then we’ll deal with it.’
He’d examined the possibility from every angle during the night—as he’d had more than enough time to think about it—and had decided to leave it up to fate. With his past, his heritage, he would never have planned to become a father, but he hadn’t been able to get the memory of Connor cradling his baby son out of his head.
In the end he’d come to the conclusion that if by some miracle he’d got Juno pregnant last night, the thought of a little boy or girl with her eyes, her sweet, practical temperament and his tenacity didn’t seem like such a terrifying prospect.
She pulled her hand out from under his and it disappeared beneath the table. He felt the tug of annoyance. Surely he’d eaten enough humble pie? He couldn’t keep apologising for ever.
