Lost and Found Groom by McLinn, Patricia (most difficult books to read .TXT) 📗

valley of her spine, under the parted fabric of her bra. Then to each side, under her arms, his fingers light across the swell of her breasts, then farther.

“Daniel, I’m not . . . I’ve been pregnant, had a baby–oh!”

His hands covered her breasts, the touch possessive for all its gentleness. He cupped her, using his thumbs and forefingers to bring her nipples to aching, hardened awareness.

“I wish I could have touched you when you carried our son. To feel you rounding with our baby . . . .” Where she pressed against his lap she felt the hot leap of his flesh, and couldn’t stop her hips from rocking back against him. “I wish I could have made love to you then.”

His mouth pressed hot and wet against the base of her neck. Her knees threatened to buckle.

If she was going to gather herself together–her wits and her body–this was the moment. Right now. This instant. Before it was too late. Much, much too late.

“I have to. . .Daniel, I have to ask you something. You promised . . . answers.”

“Ask.” His voice was muffled against her flesh.

“Why did you come after me?”

“I told you – Matthew–”

She cut him off. “I understand why after you knew about Matthew–your determination that he would have family, stability. But you didn’t know about Matthew until you looked for me.” His hands stilled. “Why did you start? Did you search out all Paulo’s one-night stands?”

The withdrawal of his hands from her skin exposed its heated surface to a rush of chilled air.

“Don’t dismiss it that way, Kendra.” His voice was harsh.

“Why? I’m sure Paulo was no monk. And Taumaturgio surely wasn’t. Even Tompkins for that matter. What was different?”

“I don’t know.”

He’d jerked out the words, with no attempt to make them believable. A lie. And not even a good lie.

She’d always heard about the power of truth. Now she knew the power of a lie. It had the strength she didn’t have. The strength to make her straighten away from him. The strength to tug her dress up. The strength to turn and face him, now covered from throat to knees.

“You should leave, Daniel.”

“It scares you, doesn’t it, Kendra?”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Not me. At least not me alone. Us. What happens between us. Because it reminds you of Santa Estella? Because it reminds you of when you let yourself really feel? Or because you don’t want to feel that for me?”

It did scare her. At one level she understood that. But understanding didn’t stop the fear, and it didn’t stop the response.

“Which you? Which one of your characters do you think I’m feeling something for?”

He stood abruptly, jostling her.

“I’m taking your car. I’ll return it in the morning.”

The change in him, so fast, so complete, disoriented her. “My car? But–”

“Don’t worry. I have the key.” His mouth twisted as he held up the ring that she’d dropped into her pocket earlier. He kept one key and tossed the rest toward her. She caught them automatically, then had to grab at her dress again to keep it from falling. “Remember me? The pickpocket? I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you that I haven’t lost those skills.”

*

Why had he done that?

Lying in bed, wishing sleep would stop the thinking, that’s the question Kendra focused on. It was much better than thinking about what had happened between them. Or what would have happened if she’d let things continue.

Why had he picked her pocket?

To prove–to himself or her?–he didn’t need to rely on her, the way he had the night he’d returned from back East?

Was that why he’d lied in answer to her question?

I don’t know.

If he’d tried, he probably could have fooled her. He certainly had before, as Tompkins and Paulo. So why had this lie been so unconvincing? Because she knew him better now?

I don’t know.

She’d known it as a lie immediately. So that meant he did know. But maybe he didn’t want to know. Maybe he didn’t lie well this time because he was lying to himself most of all.

Why?

I don’t know.

*

Damn her questions.

She poked and probed until he felt like he’d been turned inside out. And, dammit, he had no answers. Not the neat kind she wanted.

Daniel leaned against the chain link fence that separated the parking area from the pair of runways boasted by Far Hills Airport. If he’d had his own plane, he’d have gone up and seen eye to eye with the huge, clear Wyoming sky. Instead, he had to settle for the familiar, lingering scents of fuel and flight.

Maybe Kendra had connected with Paulo during the hurricane because she couldn’t hold Paulo at a distance with her battery of questions. Not speaking the same language had definite advantages.

Why had he come after her? Why three years after he’d left her at the consulate gate had finding her been his first thought when the door had been closed and locked behind his ever returning to Taumaturgio?

Damned if he knew.

And Kendra hadn’t expected him to have an answer. She’d used the question to drive a wedge between them. To stop the feeling between them.

His body tightened in memory of that specific feeling.

She’d try to back away now. He’d bet every penny on that.

Go ahead and try, Kendra Jenner, he thought grimly.

He’d be damned if he’d let that happen. Not her backing away, not her trying to keep Matthew away from him, not even himself easing away.

Yeah, himself.

It had been a long time since he’d felt the nervousness he’d experienced tonight when he’d realized Matthew was completely and solely in his care. On second thought, he’d never felt the terror that hit him so unexpectedly when he’d glanced in the rear view mirror halfway into town and seen Matthew’s expression of utter confidence that nothing could hurt him. Which meant he–Daniel Delligatti–was responsible that nothing did hurt Matthew.

The situation had gotten worse when they had passed by the Community Church and Matthew started fussing. It occurred to Daniel then that Matthew’s equanimity had stemmed from a belief they were heading for the familiar babysitting co-op.