He's the One by Jane Beckenham (ready to read books .TXT) 📗

all finished here. The plan is working.” He covered the mouthpiece as she entered the room. “Hang on a sec.” He turned to her. “Can you grab my diary from down stairs? It's in the office, on the desk, a big bulky black affair,” he said.

Not really wanting to play the interloper to his phone call, she nodded and headed to the stairs that would take her to the back of the bar.

She walked straight to the desk and saw the large black diary exactly where Cade said it would be.

As she turned to go, she halted and turned full circle, taking in everything about this tiny room. How could it be only a few days since she'd entered this room with her way out proposition? It seemed a lifetime ago. Certainly life-changing, she mused as she hugged the diary to her chest and headed back upstairs.

"Got it.” She held it out.

Busy writing something down on a note pad, Cade indicated with a shake of his head that she put it on the bench. “Open it at today's date."

Taylor flipped the pages and scanned the days. It was one of those week-per-two-page affairs and she trailed her finger down the dates—then froze.

"It can't be."

"Taylor?"

Taylor's legs wobbled like jelly, waves of bile rising from her belly, to her throat and souring her mouth. The world suddenly went all haywire, a miasmic haze floating in front of her eyes. She struggled to concentrate, shaking her head to purge her brain of the fog as she fumbled for the chair behind her, sinking down into its cushioned embrace.

She slammed a hand against her forehead and groaned aloud. “It can't be? How could I have forgotten?"

"Taylor, what's wrong?"

Staring at the black ink in the diary, an accusing blur against the pristine white pages scattered across each date, she trailed a finger once again down the page as if it would erase what she already knew to be inevitable. For one mind-numbing minute, her vision blurred. She blinked repeatedly and wished whole-heartedly that this very moment would disappear. But the gods weren't on her side.

She glanced up at Cade. He'd put the phone down, though she didn't remember him terminating his call. Tears welled behind her eyes. She willed them away, but nothing was on her side right now and a single tear slid down her cheek.

"Sweetheart?” Cade hunched down in front of her, concern creasing his brow. He reached out to wipe her tear, but she jerked violently backwards.

"No. Don't touch me."

"Taylor? What's wrong?” he repeated.

"Nothing. Everything. This,” she said pointing to the diary.

"My diary. What's that got to do with you being upset?"

"Everything.” Taylor's shoulders slumped and a wave of dejection and tiredness overtook.

And guilt. Don't forget guilt!

"I should have listened."

"Listened to who? You're not making sense."

"To me, Cade. To my conscience."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I've betrayed someone."

"Betrayed?” Clearly confused, Cade drew a hand through his still damp hair and stood up. “Taylor, I'm sorry honey, but you're really not making any sense."

"Don't call me “honey", Cade. I'm not your honey. That sort of endearment is for a couple, people who have a relationship. We don't. And remember, we don't want one either. Neither of us do commitment,” she spat out.

Grim faced, Cade stared down at her. She wished he wouldn't. Those dark eyes penetrated into her soul. And that was a closed off place.

"I wasn't asking for commitment,” he said gently. “What happened, Taylor? Only an hour ago you were inviting me to be with you."

"I looked at your diary, that's what. Today is the tenth of May, Cade."

"So?"

"Four years ago today, it would have been my wedding day."

Cade's eyes bugged out, and if it hadn't been so sad, and serious, and that she was wallowing in guilt, Taylor would have laughed. But laughter was the furthest emotion she felt right now.

"It didn't happen, you see. My fiancée died."

Cade moved toward her, reaching out as if he was going to touch her. “Don't touch me, Cade.” He dropped his hands to his sides, and she hugged her arms tightly around her in a protective band. “I don't need your sympathy."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to let me go."

Cade stood back, hands in the air surrender-style. “I'm not stopping you."

* * * *

For the third night in a row, Cade paced the length of the bar, grateful the staff had disappeared for the day and that his few well-placed scowls had deflected any kindly interrogation from Katie.

Harry Fontain had phoned, urging him to join the “gang” at the footie game.

"Come on, do you good to get out and socialize."

"Forget it; I'm not in the mood."

"So what's up? Women problems?"

"None of your business."

"Ah, so it was the blonde? Didn't think she was your type, bit too much starch, if you get my drift."

Cade got his drift all right. “Like I said, Harry, none of your business."

"Man, have you got it bad."

Cade's jaw clenched. He wanted to tell the guy to butt out and go to hell, but the fact that Harry was right on the nose, irked the hell out of him.

"What you going to do about it, Cade, ol’ boy?"

Cade had declined the offer of any advice and the game of football, and now, as the silence engulfed him and he paced the empty bar, he'd never felt so alone. He came to a halt in the middle of the room and turned full circle. The bar was his flagship so to speak, his pride and joy. He'd worked damned hard to make it, haul his sorry arse out of the quagmire of his background, a childhood where food was scarce and parents who didn't give a damn.

Cade scowled at the emptiness and downed the shot of tequila he'd been babysitting for the last few minutes. Zane and Katie didn't know the half of it. He may have only been ten when their parents gave up their parental duties, but he'd protected his brother and sister the best he could.

With the