A Forever Love (6 page)

He held her upper arm and kept her close. Her breathing was short, and the pulse in her neck fluttered like a hummingbird escaping a cat.

“You’re looking well, Aubrey.” The desire that he didn’t want to feel for this woman throbbed through every cell of his body, and his maleness pressed hard. He’d touched every inch of her skin. Her unchanged scent of lavender with a hint of lemon filled his nose.

Who smelled like that? And how, after this many years, did she still? A long, deep breath and he filled his lungs with her scent.

He leaned down, his fingers still pressing through the fine silk of her blouse, his lips near her ear. Her body quivered as though she were a doe in a wolf’s jaws. She deserved to be afraid. Very, very afraid. No one stole from a Travati.

“I believe you have something of mine,” he whispered in her ear.

She pulled back and her eyes pierced him. Her head cocked to the side and there was a fierceness in her eyes like a lioness with a cub. “Really, Justin? I never thought you’d want what I have.”

Years of closing tightrope, high-finance deals provided him with the discipline to maintain a face like stone while his body reeled and his pulse shot through the stratosphere. Was it fair, her assessment? When they’d worked together before, his lifestyle had been more similar to what Devon’s was now. He’d partied. He’d pursued women. He’d had no desire to settle down, make a family, create a legacy, but then, fifteen years before, he’d thought he had an entire lifetime for a wife and a family. Since then, his entire life had changed.

“It would seem you miscalculated my desires.” Justin returned to his seat and held out his hand, an invitation for Aubrey to sit and join him. They had much to discuss and he guessed most of their talk would be uncomfortable for her.

“Thank you for the invitation.” She nodded her head. “Unfortunately I’m needed here with our guests and then also in the kitchen.”

“After.” Justin lifted his wine and took a drink. “I’m in the Rockwater Suite.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t known, but she quickly recovered. “Lovely, isn’t it?”

Deft and charming and still well trained in the art of obfuscation. If Max didn’t know who his father was until recently, he couldn’t be blamed, not with all the ducking and weaving at which Aubrey seemed so adept.

“I’ll expect you around eleven.” Not a demand and not an order, but more than an invitation. Let her fail to arrive at his suite to begin discussions about his only son and see how quickly he traveled up the path to the farmhouse she shared with Max. His restraint at this moment, he thought, was exemplary. The urge to rush to the farmhouse and find his child was nearly impossible to ignore, but he’d give her more respect than she’d given him. More respect than she deserved. Speaking to her and telling her of the decisions he’d made for Max was more than she’d done when she’d stolen their son. Now he held the leverage and the power, and he wasn’t afraid to exert force if necessary.

Aubrey smiled and tilted her head. A yes? He guessed so.

“Enjoy the rest of your meal. The ravioli is superb. Family recipe.”

His chest tightened. The smile he struggled to maintain froze on his lips. “Family? How interesting that you use the word
family
now, with me. Here.” He leaned back in his chair, and his eyes trailed up from her ankles, over her legs and hips and waist, and lingered on her breasts. “Did you nurse our son?”

Red flamed up her neck and cascaded into her cheeks.

He held her with his gaze. “I’m curious, because I have no memory of him as an infant. The ability to create such memories was stolen from me.”

She swallowed. Her gaze slid about the room. Embarrassed? Perhaps, or perhaps, as when she was younger, she considered her personal affairs private. Whatever the reason, he didn’t care. His temper shook the cage in which he’d thought to lock the feelings of anger that threatened to consume him when he considered the many years he’d not known of Max.

“Service should finish by eleven.” Aubrey’s voice was stiff and controlled. “I’ll see you immediately after.” She turned, and her head raised, she walked to another table and smiled and charmed them.

If he didn’t know Aubrey, if he hadn’t pressed his cock deep into her once upon a time and made her shriek his name, he might believe her practiced nonchalance. But he had fucked her. He’d seen her lips quiver around his cock. He’d heard her call his name as he thrust into her hot entrance and propelled her into the stratosphere of orgasm upon orgasm.

Aubrey didn’t fool him. She was terrified. She did another sweep of the dining room. Not rushing, not acting as though anything was out of the ordinary. Not behaving as though she were a caught thief who’d stolen from him a priceless piece of art. No, Aubrey remained the perfect hostess, the premiere businesswoman. Finally, after a last circle around the dining room and without turning her head to look at him, she exited toward the kitchen, her firm round ass making a spectacular exit.

He lifted his napkin and pressed the linen to his lips. Yes, the physical want for her body, the attraction was still there, but he didn’t have the luxury of indulging his desire for Aubrey. He wanted only one thing from her—not to rekindle their affair but to get what was his, to take home to Manhattan his only son.

*

Crickets chirped in the cool night air. A deep breath. The scent of wet grass and the earthy scent of animals and timber. She remembered nothing of walking from the dining room and down the long hall, through the kitchen, past her office, and out the back door to the small secluded area where waitstaff hid to grab a smoke. She turned the corner past the line of maple trees and stopped at the corner of The Red Barn.

Justin was at Rockwater Farms. He was here for Max. He knew of his son and wanted to take him from her. Her intention to give Max a quiet life filled with substance mattered little to Justin. She’d seen the fury in his eyes. The anger of a Travati who’d been wronged.

A roar pressed between her ears. She bent forward at the waist, and her hand caught the rough wood to steady herself. She could run. Her Jeep was at the house. She could pack a bag, drive to Camp Willow, pick up Max, and disappear long before Justin even realized she was gone.

“Aubrey?”

Nina’s voice rushed to her through the roar of sound in her head.

“Aubrey, are you okay?”

The pressure of Nina’s hand against Aubrey’s back. Aubrey couldn’t stand upright. She turned her head and her eyes met her sister’s gaze.

“He’s here. Justin is here.”

“What?” Nina’s eyebrows crinkled. “Justin—”

“Is here. In the dining room. He has the Rockwater Suite. He’s the VIP the
Times
critic called about.”

“Not a coincidence?”

Another deep breath and finally she stood. She planted her hand on her hip and pressed the other one through her hair. “Not a coincidence. He’s in Kansas, a thousand miles from New York, and Max just asked Dad about Justin. I do not believe my life to be that coincidental.” Her tongue chased across her lips. Her mouth was dry, and she couldn’t seem to swallow.

“Why now?”

“Wasn’t it you who said I was naive about what Max knew and didn’t know? One Internet search, one e-mail or phone call, and look who’s here. Daddy in his private jet with a dozen well-trained lawyers all ready to take away my son.”

“You don’t know that’s true.” Nina pressed her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “Service is nearly finished. Go. Talk to him. Figure this out. At the very least make certain he’s not planning on taking Max. You can be persuasive. He’ll understand that Rockwater Farms is still the best place for Max.”

Guilt fluttered through Aubrey. How many lies had she told to even her family to try to protect Max? Would Justin understand? His eyes didn’t hold any understanding. No, she’d seen only anger and contempt and barely contained rage. Part of her already felt a weary defeat. The heat that thrummed through her body in Justin’s presence combined with fear and the feeling that she deserved everything she got; she deserved Max’s anger and Justin’s rage because of her dishonesty and her failure to tell her son the truth. Her motives really didn’t matter, did they?

She stood and followed Nina into the kitchen. She pulled herself together and watched from the back window as the guests slowly left the restaurant. Finally Justin walked out of the front door. A stark, strong figure, he walked along the path toward his luxury suite. He was … he was still gorgeous, and he was her son’s father. How could she ever explain to him what she’d done? She couldn’t. There were no words to help a father understand why he’d never met his fourteen-year-old son.

A fierce desire to protect Max pummeled her. She could pack two bags, get in the Jeep, and be at Camp Willow in under two hours. She had cash squirreled away in different hidey-holes at Rockwater. Her nightmares had always included a Travati security team descending upon Rockwater Farms and taking Max. Not too far-fetched when dealing with one of the wealthiest men in the world. Her Jeep, Max, the open road. He wouldn’t complain too much once they hit the Rocky Mountains. He’d always loved Colorado with the cool fresh air, the mountains, and the aspen trees. She’d tell Max this was a last-minute summer trip or that Nina had asked her to check out a couple of new restaurants she’d heard about in Colorado.

Yes, she wanted to escape with her son, but running away now would only confirm what Justin believed. He would never stop until he had Max. Now that it seemed he had interest in being a father, Justin would hunt them down.

She walked through the kitchen again and waved good night to the staff. She so desperately wanted to escape instead of confronting the new reality that would include Max’s father. Her heart crumpled. This quiet, lovely life had ended tonight when she saw Justin. Regardless of her reasons, whether sound or flawed, she’d taken the memories of Max’s childhood from Justin. Now her baby boy was ready to enter high school, and Justin was here to claim his son.

She walked out the back door and down the side path, directly to Justin’s suite. She’d confront her past and defend her decisions. Today Justin might be a man who wanted to be a father, but he must remember who he’d been then, before Max was born, when she’d discovered she was pregnant. His life and desires had been much different. He’d been a man enraptured by his glorious playboy lifestyle. Her knuckles rapped against the wooden door.

The door flew open. He stood before her, still in his suit jacket but his tie now gone and his collar unbuttoned. “I wasn’t certain you’d be brave enough to come by tonight.”

He turned from the doorway, and she followed him inside his suite. Conflicting emotions bounded through her. Uncapped sexual attraction dizzied her and collided with fear and anguish and confusion. How could she keep a calm and cool demeanor in the presence of the only man who had made her swoon?

He walked toward the kitchen, lifted a glass of pinot noir, and turned to her. She took the glass.

“I suppose I should offer a toast.” He lifted his wineglass and anger thundered over his face and then passed, quickly concealed. “To our son, the boy I’ve yet to meet and the man I want to know.” He reached out his glass and clinked it to hers.

She couldn’t drink to those words. Couldn’t sip the wine as though Justin’s presence hadn’t sent her carefully constructed world reeling.

Justin took a long drink and set the wineglass on the kitchen island. “You can’t drink to that or you won’t?”

Her gaze captured his. There were so many things to discuss. A part of her wanted his forgiveness, a part of her wanted him to leave, and a part of her she was scared to acknowledge wanted him. Heat grew in her chest, and as if sensing her desire, he stepped closer. His masculine, musky scent mixed with wine overwhelmed her. His voice was low. “Where is my son? Where is Max?”

“How do you … why do you think he’s your son?” She stepped back, but her hand clutched the counter. Let him stew on the possibility that another man might have claim to Max. An impossibility that made her want to laugh out loud. There’d been no men, none since Justin.

She glanced at his hands. One clasped the wineglass stem and looked as though he might snap the crystal into shards. The other hand was planted on the kitchen island, his palm flat and his fingers tapered and smooth and beautiful. The pleasure those fingertips could give. She licked her lips with the memory of Justin’s hands on her body, of him deep inside her, pulsing and throbbing and causing her to scream his name. “I mean, who knows the number of men I was sleeping with when I was in New York?” She pressed her lips into a tight line. “You can’t possibly think you were the only one?”

A giant laugh burst from Justin’s lips. A huge smile split his face. A smile that made her feel very small.

“Oh, Aubrey, these delicious games you still play.” He took another sip of wine. She was close and energy crackled between them. “Where is my son?”

“Again I ask you, why do you think Max is your son?” Aubrey lifted an eyebrow. An attempt at nonchalance … she wasn’t very good at nonchalance. Anxiety, worry, OCD, she could do all of those, but nonchalance she’d never mastered.

“How do I know?” He pressed his fingers into the front pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the picture he carried next to his heart. He placed the photo on the counter between them. “Are you truly telling me Max isn’t my son?”

A mother’s love flashed over her face as her gaze lingered on the picture that lay on the counter between them. Her fingertips crept to the edge of the photo as though to shield Max, or maybe even herself, from the truth that was finally coming to light after her horrible lie. She glanced up from the picture. “He has your eyes,” she whispered.

A knife sliced through his heart. How different that statement might feel if she’d stayed in New York and had his son with him or even if she’d reached out and told him he was a father. But now hearing those words only twisted the pain, the loss, the time that he’d never get back, deeper into the gash in his soul.