Playing Dirty (5 page)

Holding Mattie, seeing her face in those first moments when she’d realized it was him, had been no fantasy. No way could even his fantasies have measured up to the reality of the way his wife had fallen into his arms and melted against him. She’d returned his kiss, returned it with passion, as if she too had lived with nothing but memories.

Okay, so maybe she had moved on with her life. The logical part of his brain reasoned she’d done the right thing. Did he really want her to cling to his memory for the rest of her life? To never know happiness? To die miserable and alone? But as he held her now, smoothing his hands over her back as she cried, he knew one thing—that in those initial few seconds when she’d first seen him, he’d witnessed unmasked joy in her eyes. That one kiss had told him that even though she’d just come home from her honeymoon with another man, she still loved
him
.
 

And it changed everything.

Sometime later, her sobs eventually quieted and she eased out of his embrace. She drew in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, then hiccupped. A wavering, self-deprecating smile tugged at her lips. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek and slipped it behind her ear. “You don’t have to apologize to me, babe.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I don’t usually fall apart like that.”

He gently squeezed her hand. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she said, with a quick shake of her head. She tugged her hand free and dragged it through her hair, wincing when her ring caught on the long, damp strands. A ring another had placed there, claiming her as his own. The jealously pressed around him again, weighing him down, suffocating him until he thought he might explode. The ring he’d placed on her finger had been replaced with a sizeable diamond and emerald engagement ring, accompanied by a diamond encased wedding band. The stones caught the morning sunlight and twinkled, mocking him with the truth.
 

He’d been replaced.

He didn’t give a rip. He wasn’t dead, dammit. He was alive and the law stated Mattie was still his wife. He didn’t give a damn that she’d married someone else. When she’d seen him, her heart had confirmed the truth, that
he
was still her husband. And as far as he was concerned, that put him one step ahead of the competition.

She frowned. “What?” she asked quietly. “What are you thinking?”

“About the time we’ve lost,” he lied.

She didn’t answer, but he hadn’t expected her to. She sighed, then smoothed her palms down her thighs before gently settling her hand on his arm. “Ford.” Her voice remained ragged from her tears. She cleared her throat. “Regardless of what happens in the future, I really am happy that you’re home. Safe.”

“I know that,” he said. “I also know the next few days aren’t going to be easy—for any of us. I’ve put you in a tough position, and I do apologize.”

Her delicately arched eyebrows pulled into a fierce frown. “And exactly what position is that?”

“If you think I’m going to slip away quietly and give you a divorce so you can validate your marriage to your hot shot lawyer, you’re wrong. You’re still my wife,” he said roughly. He grabbed hold of her left hand and held it up between them. The diamonds sparkled again, reinforcing his determination. “Even if you are wearing another man’s ring.”

An undercurrent of stubbornness flickered in her eyes. She tugged her hand free. “What did you think was going to happen? I hoped and—”

“I’ve spent the past five years hoping.” The sarcastic bite to his voice was uncalled for and he knew it, but frustration and jealousy edged out his common sense. Did she think she was the only one hurting right now? The only thing outweighing his jealousy was guilt that he’d put them in this impossible situation.

“So did I.” Irritation lined her gaze along with a hint of the pain she’d suffered. “I hoped and prayed Paul had made a mistake. Prayed that the government was wrong, that it wasn’t your plane that had gone down. It took me over three years to finally accept that you weren’t ever coming back. Three years, Ford. You have no idea what I went through, so don’t come in here trying to make me feel guilty for moving on with my life.”
 

She came off the chaise, and for a moment he thought she was going to leave, but when she spun around to face him, anger radiated from her. He thought she never looked more beautiful.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, her gaze ruthlessly direct. “What happened to you? Where the hell have you been for the past five years?”

“Babe—”

Her hand shot up to stop him. “Don’t. I know that placating tone. Don’t you dare patronize me. I told you earlier, I won’t buy it this time. I think I’ve earned the right to know the truth.”

He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her what he’d been through, the depths he’d succumbed to in order to stay alive one more day. One more hour. “Does it really matter at this point?”

“Why didn’t Paul tell me the truth? Why let me believe you were dead all these years?” she asked.

He stood and walked toward her. She looked ready to collapse. “Paul didn’t know,” he said. “No one did. Everyone believed I’d been killed along with the rest of my team.”

“Yet here you are.” She looked ready to cry again.
 

Gently, he took her hands in his. Mattie was no rookie when it came to his work as a SEAL. She understood he traveled the globe on covert assignments. While he’d never reveal the exact details, she was more than entitled to an explanation this time. “It’s over, Matt,” he said. “I’m home. Shouldn’t that be what matters now?”
 

She sucked in a deep, shaky breath and looked at him. “I wish it were that simple.”

The hairs on the back of his neck rose. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head, then looked away. When she looked back at him, fresh tears flooded her eyes and she drew in a ragged breath. “I could be pregnant.”

Mattie waited, her heart wrenching when his eyes filled with disbelief followed by a flicker of pain. The last thing she’d ever wanted to do was hurt him, but she had no choice but to be honest.
 

“Say that again,” he quietly demanded.

The sudden deadly calm surrounding him made her nervous and she took a tentative step back. Not out of fear. No, she’d never fear him. He’d rather die than hurt her. Even though they’d been separated for five years due to circumstances out of their control, she’d never doubt him in that respect. “I could be pregnant.”

He stared at her. She wished he’d say something, anything. Rant and rave, bluster and bellow, but he’d never been the blustering type. In the past, she’d always known when he was angry by the tensing in his jaw or a coldness in his eyes. She looked for those signs now and could find none. The tension was killing her.

He turned away and strode to the window overlooking the back yard. He shook his head, then looked at her. “Jesus, Mattie. Are you sure?”

She pulled in an unsteady breath. “Not one hundred percent. No. But you need to know it is a very real possibility.”

She knew the instant the shock wore off. That coldness she’d been searching for settled in and his expression hardened. “What the hell were you thinking?”
 

“You have a hell of a lot of nerve asking me that question.”

“You’re my wife,” he said, his voice as cold as marble.

“I was your widow,” she fired back at him. “Look, I get that this is uncomfortable for you. But no matter how diplomatic or how sensitive I try to be, someone is going to be hurt in the end.”

He turned away and she was struck again by his thinness. He’d always been well-built, a virtual wall of solid muscle, the material of his shirts had always strained against his biceps. But now the khaki uniform practically hung on his tall frame, reminding her of the hell he must’ve suffered.

He’d changed. The man she’d known for most of her life rarely raised his voice, he always thought before speaking and was methodical in anything he attempted, whether he was working with his hands around the house or...loving her. Especially when they’d made love. When she’d kissed him earlier, the passion had been immediate and hot, like a flash fire burning across the dry Texas landscape. That instantaneous desire weighed on her conscience.
 

She pushed those thoughts away as she moved to the bed and sat. “I’m sorry, Ford.”

“I’m having a hard time with all this,” he said, keeping his back to her.

She hid her surprise over his admission. “I know you are. And I’m sorry,” she said again. “But what exactly do you think Trenton and I have been doing these past two weeks?”

He stiffened and she realized her mistake too late. He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes were filled with an emotion she’d never seen before—rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. “I should’ve killed the son of a bitch when I had the chance,” he said, then strode for the door.

“Ford!” She scrambled to her feet. “Be reasonable.”

He paused with his hand on the door knob. “I
am
being reasonable.”

She rushed to his side and grabbed hold of his arm. After his earlier scuffle with Trenton, she knew she’d be hard pressed to stop Ford, but she could at least try. “No, you’re not. Stop acting like this.”

“Like what?” he asked bitterly, shrugging off her touch. “A jealous husband? You’re damned right I’m jealous. You belong to me.”

She didn’t think he meant to sound quite so barbaric and understood his anger wasn’t directed at her, but she still didn’t care for the caveman routine. “At one time, that was true.”

He exhaled roughly, then pushed both hands through his hair. He stared at the framed poster of Monet’s water lilies hanging above the bed as if trying to gather his thoughts for the next barrage of questions. Finally, he looked down at her. God, she had loved this man with all her heart. She hated that he was hurting. But he wasn’t the only one involved in this relationship. There were three of them. Four, if she included Phoebe.

“Are you saying there’s no chance for us?” he asked, that calculated control evident once again.

Memories. So many memories of their life together.

Departures. Times when he’d leave her for a few weeks or a few months, unable to place a single phone call to let her know he was safe.
 

Homecomings. Short periods of adjustment, of finding their own special rhythm until they settled in again, only to have him leave at a moment’s notice. This was one homecoming that was going to take a ton of adjustment, and she honestly didn’t know if she could live through it only to have him leave her again.
 

She shook her head. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

He gripped her upper arms in a gentle hold, his expression intent. “What are you saying? Explain it to me.”

She couldn’t, because she didn’t know the answer. “I can’t,” she finally whispered.

He swore, then briefly closed his eyes. His hands slid from her shoulders in...defeat? Never. Ford Grayson
never
admitted defeat.

“Do you love him?”
 

Why did the truth have to hurt so damned much? She couldn’t lie to him, but whatever she told him would no doubt cause more anguish. “Do you really think I would’ve married him otherwise?”

Ford fought to block the pain from his mind. He’d become an expert at closing off a part of himself from physical pain. But Mattie’s admission went way beyond physical. Her words shot straight to his heart and burned with an intensity that nearly halted his breathing.

And possibly pregnant? Was this Avery’s way of planting himself firmly in her life? Or was it nothing other than Mattie wanting more children? The latter made the most sense, but the former fed his jealousy.

He’d always been a little possessive where Mattie was concerned, never in a smothering sense, just a normal, healthy male reaction to anyone who looked a little too hard at his woman. Not once during their marriage had he ever doubted his wife’s fidelity. But this was different. The rational part of his mind told him that she’d done nothing wrong. She’d believed he was dead, she’d been a widow. Hell, she’d even mourned for him for three years before she started dating Avery. There was nothing unusual about her wanting to start a family with her new husband. The problem was the irrational part of his mind that claimed Mattie was his and his alone.

“I’m trying to understand.” He settled his hands on her shoulders. “Our daughter is five years old. I can imagine how you’d want to start a family before she gets much older. But you have to understand that it hurts like hell that someone else could be the father of your children.”

Her eyes filled with anguish and more tears spilled down her cheeks. He pulled her against him. These were extreme circumstances. He imagined there’d be a lot more tears before all this ended.

He held her close, finding his own comfort in the feel of her in his arms, of her own slender arms wrapped around him as she clung to him. God, he’d missed her so much. He wished like hell his homecoming could have been different. They should have been rejoicing instead of being torn further apart. He was a drowning man, treading water against a whirlpool of emotions, and his last hope of rescue had just been sucked under.

What if she was pregnant? He wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter, that he’d raise the child as his own. But he honestly did not know if her giving birth to Avery’s child would make a difference to him or not. Every time he looked at the kid, would he be reminded that Mattie had made love to another? He didn’t like the answer skirting around his conscience.