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“What were you going to do?” Rafe said, his warm breath brushing across the sensitive skin at her nape. She shivered and struggled to refrain from leaning against him. “Abby mentioned something about a food truck?”
Jane snorted. “Yeah, that was the plan. Street Sweets Mobile Patisserie. Has a nice ring to it, huh?”
Rafe nodded. “Yeah, it does.”
“Up here in Queensland, you usually only see food trucks at big events like school fairs, the Ekka, that sort of thing. But down south, they’re a part of everyday life. They even have food truck parks and websites set up telling people where to go and which trucks will be available on what days,” she said, the excitement of endless possibility creeping up on her, filling her with the happiness and contentment that always accompanied a well-laid plan.
“People hire food trucks for weddings and corporate functions, all kinds of stuff. It’s an amazing opportunity—” Her voice caught in her throat as reality brought her crashing back down to Earth, and her next words felt like razorblades jammed in her gullet. “Itwasan amazing opportunity. But now it’s gone,” she said, a sob escaping her. “Everything’s turned to shit.”
Suddenly needing the comfort she knew Rafe could give her, she turned and burrowed into his chest. And when his arms came around her, holding her tight, she let her tears fall unchecked.
Rafe murmured soothing words in her ear, but Jane didn’t want to hear them. She didn’t want to hear him say she’d be all right, or that she’d get through this, or that he was there for her.
She didn’t need platitudes or sympathy.
She needed him. Rafe. His strength. His heat. His mouth. His lips. She needed action.
Needed what only Rafe could give her.
Her fingers curled in his T-shirt as she lifted her face and stared at him, her eyes darting to his mouth, to the tiny scar in the dip of his upper lip, the one no one ever noticed unless they knew it was there.
But Jane knew.
Jane knew all of Rafe’s scars as well as she knew her own. And it was that one that caught and held her attention now.
Her tongue flicked out and moistened her lips.
Rafe’s chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm under her hands, and she ignored the faint rumble of warning in his voice. “Janie….”
“Rafe.”
Slamming her lips to his, Jane swallowed his groan and pushed her tongue inside his mouth. He hesitated for only a moment before he was right there with her, hauling her into his lap and angling her head, using his big hands to position her exactly how he wanted her. Controlling her, claiming her with all the passion he kept so well hidden from the world. But then he stopped and broke the kiss, forcing Jane to swallow down a whimper of disappointment.
He still held her firm, his hand gripping her nape, his arm banded around her waist, but he wasn’t kissing her anymore, only breathing heavily.
His forehead pressed against hers, he whispered, “It’s a little too easy to fall into old habits with you.”
Jane licked her lips and slid her hands over his chest. “Old habits doesn’t have to mean bad habits,” she said quietly, leaning closer and nibbling along his jaw, sucking on his earlobe.
“But theyarebad habits,” Rafe said with a small groan, untangling her limbs from his and shifting her to sit by his side. “And you’re grieving. People do dumb things when they’re grieving.”
Her mouth twisted in disgust. “I am not grieving for that… that….” She struggled to come up with an appropriately awful insult. Rafe’s kiss had scrambled her brain.
“Impotent, gormless fuck-knuckle?” Rafe supplied.
Jane cocked one brow at his choice of words. “Impotent?”
“I don’t see him knocking you up,” he said, a wry twist to his lips and an undercurrent of sarcasm in his voice.
And that’s when it hit her.
Her gaze narrowed and she spoke slowly, weighing the truth of her words. “You don’t believe you’re the father, do you?”
He looked down at his feet. “I don’t know,” he said carefully.
Anger, hot and swift, rose up in Jane and she clenched her hands into fists. “You think I’m lying?”
Rafe wouldn’t look at her; instead he rested his forearms on his knees and stared straight ahead at the line of trees across the road. “I think, looking at things objectively, there’s every possibility your baby isn’t mine.”
