The Road to Rose Bend Page 7

  She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Because he was right. And even though guilt blasted her like a furnace, she still wouldn’t have stayed.

  He’d called her impulsive, immature for ending their marriage to seek something that only existed in the movies.

  To her, it’d been the most mature decision she’d ever made.

  “Even if you didn’t want to stay married, we could’ve co-parented here. But now, I don’t even have that option with you nearly a thousand miles away. I have no say when it comes to you. Not in our life together, not in my child’s life.”

  “Daniel, I’m sorry,” she whispered, giving him the words she’d uttered so many times over the last six months that they should be tattooed on her tongue.

  “I know. So you’ve said many times,” he murmured, suddenly sounding weary. Pain spasmed in her chest that she’d brought this proud man to that. “Look, Sydney. This isn’t the reason I’m calling. I...” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was firmer, stronger. Dean Pierson. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

  She stared straight ahead, not really seeing the black-and-gold awning of Mimi’s Café across the street. His words rattled in her head, and she even mouthed them to herself. I’ve been seeing someone. She waited. Waited for the burst of jealousy, the flash of resentment that he could berate her for leaving him and in the next breath announce that he’d moved on.

  But nothing.

  No, that wasn’t true. Relief stirred behind her sternum. If he’d fallen for someone else, maybe it would ease the anger he harbored toward her. Maybe...

  Maybe it would absolve her of some of the shame weighing her down like a cinder block.

  And maybe she really was as selfish as he’d called her to turn this around and make it about her.

  “I’m happy for you, Daniel,” she said. “I really am. She must be a wonderful person.”

  “She is,” he agreed. “Veronica is a special education teacher with a master’s and is currently working on her PhD. We have a lot in common.” In other words, she was everything Sydney wasn’t. She tried not to allow the petty jab to find purchase, but no such luck. “I’ve also told her about the baby. She’s excited to be a part of his or her life if we continue to move forward.”

  “That’s...nice.” Sydney found it hard to breathe past the feelings swirling inside her. The jealousy that had been missing over his new relationship now punched her in the gut, winding her. Another woman in her child’s life? Possibly claiming her baby? That didn’t sit well. Logically, Sydney understood that most likely she and Daniel would one day have partners who would be potential stepparents. Still... Shit. She wasn’t ready to deal with this. Not today. “Congratulations, Daniel. I have to go, but I’ll be in contact.”

  “Fine. Please make sure you do, Sydney.” He paused. “I won’t be kept out of my child’s life.”

  Without a goodbye, he hung up, and for several seconds, she stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear.

  Slowly, she lowered her arm and tucked the cell back into her purse. Disquiet lodged in her chest.

  She was being silly. Paranoid, even.

  And yet...

  Why had that sounded faintly...ominous?

  * * *

  WHAT WAS THE SAYING?

  You’re only paranoid when you’re wrong.

  She needed to be wrong.

  Sydney shook her head, calling herself a fool. But it didn’t stop her from pulling open the entrance door to the big brick building that housed the offices of Coltrane A. Dennison, Esq., and walking into the quiet, elegant lobby.

  Yet the gleaming woods, shining glass and inviting furniture did very little to calm the tumbling of her stomach. Nothing could accomplish that but answers.

  And as much as she would’ve liked to continue avoiding Cole, as she’d done for the past week, he was the person who could give her answers. It showed her desperation that she’d peeled out of the clinic parking lot and headed straight here. Without granting herself time to consider how she would face Cole after he’d hightailed it out of her cottage like his firm ass had been on fire.

  Did it hurt knowing she made him uncomfortable? God, yes. It ached in a place she wished she could shut off. That place was right next to the one where a wholly inconvenient and unsolicited lust resided for the man with the tragic angel’s face. Too bad she couldn’t evict both squatters. Because neither one of them boded well for her.

  That day in her kitchen, when his strong, big hands had grasped her hips—powerful hands that had been so gentle as they guided her down the ladder and to the floor—her heart had thudded against her breastbone, pumping a languid warmth through her veins. He’d been both dominant and tender. And the combination was devastating.

  She’d read somewhere that after the first trimester, a woman’s sex drive soared. Well, she’d chalked that up to a myth. What could possibly be sexy about swelling boobs, a big belly and a temperamental bladder? Turned out all she needed to shatter that belief was encounter Coltrane Dennison. Now, she couldn’t turn her damn body off. Just one thought about his haunted, amber eyes, that wide, carnal mouth with its slightly fuller bottom lip, that stubborn, solid jaw and large, rangy, sexy body... She stifled a shiver that whipped through her like a hot flash.

  She missed sex.

  Not just the act. She missed the intimacy, the cuddling, the connection. Physical attraction had never been an issue between her and Daniel—hence the one night together that had landed her here—but in the last year or so of their marriage, that quiet closeness had been absent.

  One glance at Cole on that rise behind the church had reminded her of its absence.

  One touch from Cole in her kitchen had made her ache for it.

  She shook her head, attempting to clear it of the thoughts that had her nipples standing at attention and the sensitive flesh between her thighs pulsing in equal parts sympathy and deprived outrage. Her body hovered on the verge of a full-out rebellion, and she didn’t have time for that now. Not with a pregnancy, a brooding ex-husband and reacclimating to a new town. She needed help more than an orgasm.

  But, dammit, the two were running neck ’n’ neck.

  Good thing she could handle the latter herself.

  She approached the wide, cherrywood front desk. It was empty. Frowning, she leaned forward and to the side, peering at the dark computer monitor. Either the receptionist had stepped away or no one manned the lobby today.

  “Damn,” she whispered. What now? Someone had to be here because the entrance was unlocked. And she’d spotted Cole’s truck in the parking space out front. Did she leave and wait until a later time? Like when she could schedule an appointment.

  No.

  The answer boomed in her head, immediate and adamant. The nerves writhing in her belly like a nest of snakes wouldn’t allow her to wait another five minutes, much less a couple of days.

  Before she could talk herself out of how impulsive and rude this might be, she strode down the hall to the left of the receptionist’s desk. Several closed doors marked the way, but only one at the end of the corridor bore a gold nameplate with Coltrane A. Dennison etched into it. Inhaling a deep breath, she knocked. Several seconds passed. She raised her arm to rap the wood again when the door swung open.

  Cole stared down at her, confusion and surprise darkening his golden eyes.

  “Sydney?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

  Worrying and trying not to beg you to hug me against that big chest.

  She swallowed those foolish and pathetic words and forced a smile to her lips. “I’m sorry to just show up without an appointment, Cole. But if you have a moment, can I take it?”

  He stared at her for several seconds, his narrowed gaze a heavy caress she imagined stroked over her cheekbones, nose and jaw. She fought the tremble that tried to work its way through her.

>   “Of course. Come in.”

  He stepped back, granting her enough space to enter his large office. Sunlight streamed into the room through the huge floor-to-ceiling casement windows, spilling onto the wide desk. Even though concerns swarmed her, she couldn’t prevent curiosity from creeping in.

  A giant bookcase packed with legal volumes and books encompassed one wall. In front of it sat a round table with several chairs pushed up to it. A small sitting area with an overstuffed black leather couch, armchairs and a beautiful oak coffee table took up the other half of the room. The requisite framed degrees dotted the wall above the furniture, but right next to them hung gorgeous paintings of town landmarks—St. John’s Catholic Church, city hall, Mimi’s Café, Winter Elm Ski Resort and Kinsale Inn.

  Then there were the smaller, less obvious details that captivated her attention. The intricate carvings of roses in the legs of the coffee table. The green-and-white paperweight on the end table that appeared to be a misshapen blob with a large C and D carved into the base. Several picture frames front and center on his ruthlessly neat desk. An open ring box on the top shelf of his bookcase with two gold bands nestled on the black velvet.

  Cole Dennison was a man who appreciated beauty and order and loved family.

  The knowledge only increased her ill-advised fascination with him.

  Dammit.

  “Here,” Cole said, extending an arm toward his sitting area instead of the visitor chairs in front of his desk. “Can I get you something? Water? Coffee? Tea?” He frowned. “I don’t have decaffeinated coffee, though.”

  “No, I’m good.” She waved off his offer with a small smile and crossed the room, settling on one end of the sofa. “You don’t have to go to any trouble. Especially since I showed up out of the blue. And I promise not to keep you long, I just...” She twisted her fingers in her lap, staring down at them for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I just need to ask your opinion on something. Your legal opinion.”

  His eyes sharpened with awareness as he lowered to the middle of the couch. “All right,” he murmured, propping his elbows on his muscular thighs, his big, elegant hands hanging between his knees. “Are you in trouble, Sydney?”

  “No,” she hurriedly assured him. “Well, not how you’re thinking. Actually, I’m probably being paranoid and making an issue out of nothing. I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time with this—”

  “Sydney, you’re babbling,” he softly interrupted, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint half smile. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of whether or not you’re wasting my time. Which you’re not, by the way. Just tell me the nonproblem that you may or may not need legal advice for.”

  “Right.” She inhaled and drew his fresh scent into her nose and lungs—rain and earth. It both calmed her nerves and set them ablaze. Shifting her gaze away from his gold-and-brown stare, she studied the fine grain of the coffee table instead. “My ex-husband called a little while ago—”

  “Ex-husband?” he repeated sharply, dragging her attention back to him. His thick eyebrows nearly met in a confused but fierce frown. “You’re divorced? Since when? You never mentioned...”

  “Yes, I’ve been divorced for nearly six months now. I told Leo, I assumed she would’ve told you.”

  “She didn’t.” His firm lips flattened into a stern line. “Your parents never said anything either.”

  Sydney sighed, not really wanting to go into her completely dysfunctional relationship with her parents. “That’s because they didn’t know until I returned to town.” Surprise flickered in his gaze, and she held up a hand, forestalling the inevitable question. “That’s a long, probably petty on my behalf story, and not one I’d prefer to go into right now.”

  “Fair enough. But,” his gaze flickered to her stomach before returning to her face, “you’ve been divorced for six months, which means you must’ve been separated longer than that. And you’re what? Four or five months along?”

  “Eighteen weeks today. So yes, I was with my ex after we split up. Too much loneliness, too much wine and too long without sex. And here we are,” she announced with a wry smile and a sweep of her hand over her belly. “Please don’t judge,” she whispered, and stifled a groan, appalled that she’d allowed that plea to slip. She didn’t need anyone’s approval. Her actions were her actions, and she refused to apologize for them or the result. Yet, without her permission, her tongue kept moving. “I know what people thought about me when I left Rose Bend. The wild child. Uncontrollable and zero fucks to give. Some of that is true, but I wasn’t as out of control as some of these folks most likely believed. I didn’t give head behind the high school bleachers or fuck the quarterback in the boys’ locker room. I’ve only been with one man, and that was my ex-husband. So, when I had a drunken, sexual itch to scratch, it was him I went to. Sex with him was familiar, comforting.” She puffed out a self-derisive chuckle. “God, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? Instead of passionate and consuming and hot as hell, sex was ‘comforting.’ Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s not like we ever had problems in that area...”

  “Sydney.”

  “Yes?” she asked, the sound of her name in that quiet but hard voice cutting off her mortifying jabbering. Thank God.

  “Move on.”

  “Right,” she breathed, zeroing her gaze back on the coffee table, unable to look at Cole after that case of verbal diarrhea. “Anyway, when I found out I was pregnant, we were both shocked. But Daniel being Daniel recovered faster and immediately went into planning mode. He wanted us to remarry, but I didn’t.” Couldn’t. “He wasn’t happy about that or my decision to move back home.”

  “Why did you decide to come back here?” he asked.

  She paused, analyzing his tone for the disapproval and criticism that often saturated this question when it was broached. Daniel. Their friends. Her parents.

  But she heard only curiosity, sympathy. Compassion.

  Briefly closing her eyes, she sank into that voice, allowed it to wrap around her like a warm blanket. But seconds later, she lifted her lashes, tossing that warmth, that shelter away.

  Because it wasn’t hers to keep. Not even to borrow.

  “Because the moment I realized I wanted to keep this baby I knew he or she deserved the very best I could give them. My own childhood was...complicated. But this town...” She moved her attention to the large windows and gazed at the quaint scene that greeted her. Tree-lined Main Street with its light, midday traffic, charming shops, and the chatter and laughter of shoppers that filtered through the glass. In one more week, with the advent of the motorcycle ride and rally, the traffic—both automotive and pedestrian—would increase, but the town wouldn’t lose its picturesque, close-knit appeal. “This town is home. Even with all my complaints—and as a kid, I had plenty—I never felt unsafe here. People care about one another. They’re the true definition of community. Regardless of how it was in my house, in Rose Bend, a child can be a child. I want that for my baby. He or she might not have a two-parent household, but they’ll have love, security, people who know them, who will care for them and watch out for them when I’m not able to.”

  A place to belong. Family.

  God, she wanted family for her child. Whether it was biological or one of their choosing.

  “Then I’m glad you came back, Sydney,” he murmured.

  She jerked her gaze to him, and the genuine warmth and honesty there—the lack of judgment—both stunned her and caused a twist of heat to unfurl deep inside her chest. Had she become so guarded, so jaded that she approached people with her emotional fists raised, ready to defend, to fight?

  Maybe. Probably.

  Yes.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, just as gently.

  Silence fell between them, one thick with a steadily rising tension. Her eyes dipped to his mo
uth, lingered on the carnal curves with the slight indent in the middle of that full bottom lip. Her fingertips tingled, itching to trace the faint depression. Desperate to. She curled her fingers into her palms, lifting her gaze back to his.

  But he stared at her hands.

  And when he slowly drew his gaze up, his eyes peering into hers, the heat there...

  She blinked, air snagging in her throat.

  Gone.

  In the next instant, nothing but concern and patience shadowed the amber depths. The same concern and patience that had been in his expression since she’d entered his office.

  She must’ve imagined that smoldering intensity, the need in his gaze. Or she was projecting her own lust onto him. Drawing in a deliberate breath, she held it, willing her body to calm, to get a grip. Ordering the glide of liquid desire in her veins to cease. Commanding her nipples to stand down and stop being so damn thirsty. Demanding her thighs to stop that futile clenching that seemed to just aggravate the pulsing between her legs.

  Because Cole Dennison did not want her. Not only did he probably still consider her just his younger sister’s friend, but he could barely look at her belly without flinching.

  Even if those two hindrances didn’t exist, one undeniable and unescapable fact persisted. Cole remained deeply in love with his dead wife.

  And imagining anything different—believing that he could want her—only set her up for an emotional bruising.

  “Now it’s my turn to apologize for distracting you. Back to why you’re here,” he said. “And how I can help.”

  She nodded and swept her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. And pretended not to notice his attention fleetingly dropping to her mouth. “Like I said, my ex isn’t—happy about my not remarrying him and then moving here. He called this morning, and though he didn’t come right out and say, well,” she waved a hand, frustrated, “anything, there was a tone. Threatening, maybe? Although, not. I don’t know,” she huffed out. “But I just can’t shake the feeling that he might...that he could...”