Unbreak My Heart (33 page)

"Is that what that woman told you? And I know damned well it wasn't Megan Bennett. There's no way Alicia Bennett could know for sure what happened fifteen years ago. She's going fishing, Stephen, probably thinking we'd pay a fortune to keep her from running her mouth about Rich and her sister, and I can't believe you've let yourself be a part of that, of ruining your brother's career."

"I think Rich can ruin his career all by himself without any help from me. Or Allie."

"She's playing with you, Stephen. I can't believe you've been fooled so easily by a woman."

"You don't know anything about her, Dad."

"I know I trusted you to take care of this for me. I can't believe I thought you could do this for me without screwing it up."

"I can't believe you protected a rapist. Did you know he killed her, Dad? Did you protect him then, too?"

"That's nonsense. That girl died in a car accident in Georgia."

"Did she? Or did somebody run her car off the road that night."

"You don't know what you're talking about," his father said. "And if you'd just done what I told you, none of this would have come out. We could have paid that girl a nice price for that house, and she would have been gone by now. I could have handled it—"

"The way you handled Megan Bennett? You must have loved it that I was the one who helped her out of town, solving that little problem for you."

"It was convenient," his father said.

"God," Stephen groaned. He'd helped them get away with it.

"You're forgetting what's important here, son. We're your family, and family's what counts."

"I've done all I'm ever going to do in the name of family loyalty. You've shoved that concept down my throat for years, and it's not going to work anymore."

"Stephen, I swear to God I wonder if you're really my son."

"Right now I wish I wasn't."

"Stay away from Alicia Bennett."

"Tell Rich to stay away from her. If he tries to come near her, he'll have to get past me. The same goes for anybody else you might send after her."

"Don't you threaten me, Stephen."

"I mean it. I'm through looking the other way. For both of you. Stay the hell away from Allie."

"Stephen—"

He hung up the phone, none too gently, unable to listen any longer, uninterested in anything else his father might have to say. Allie stirred in his arms, and he sank back down onto the bed, pulling her closer.

He was going to lose her. If not today, then tomorrow. Maybe the day after. This was likely all the time he'd ever have with her, and it might be selfish of him to take it. But he'd take anything he could get with her at this point.

Turning onto his side, he stared down at her, her dark hair spread out on the pillow, her skin looking warm and soft against the pale sheets. There were dark smudges under her eyes—evidence of too many sleepless nights spent scared and alone in that old house. He brushed his thumb across her lips, bent to kiss her softly.

"God, Allie," he said.

He wanted to ignore everything else in the whole world and keep her here with him for a while, where no one would bother them and nothing from the past would come between them, not yet.

She was beautiful to him. Sexy. Determined. Vulnerable in a way that made him ache for her. He had a deep need to fix everything for her, to make it his mission in life to make her smile and to keep her safe. He'd never needed to do that for a woman before, and he worried that when he lost her, there'd be a huge hole in his life that no one else would ever fill. He was afraid his life would never be complete without her, and he figured he'd sealed his fate earlier today by not telling her about the little job his father had him doing.

She gave a sigh and rolled over again, her head landing on his shoulder, her entire body pressed against his. Stephen put both his arms around her and wondered how he'd ever let go.

* * *

Allie slept against the curve of his shoulder in that marvelous old bed of his, for how long, she didn't know. She thought she heard the phone, but was too sleepy to care. As she was drifting off again, clipped, angry words brought her fully awake.

Stephen hung up and kissed her softly. "Sorry about that."

She snuggled against him, feeling his arms tighten around her. "Your brother?" she guessed.

"No. My father."

Allie rolled away from him, just far enough that she could see his face. His hair was mussed, and his chest was bare, and he looked upset.

"He's angry at you?" she asked.

"Nothing unusual about that, believe me."

"Stephen..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Allie. Not my family and all that it's done to yours. Not while you're in my bed, all right?"

He meant it, she realized, quietly agreeing.

He propped a few pillows against the headboard and settled her against them. The sheet shifted as she moved, slipping down to her waist, leaving her breasts bare, and he was looking at her again.

"I was right." He gave her a devastating smile. "You're perfect here."

"Is that how you judge your women?" she teased. "By whether or not they look right in your bed?"

"No," he said, leaning over her, kissing her softly, sensuously. "I've got a checklist."

"You would."

He leaned over and kissed her again. "I think about how she tastes."

He ran a hand down her arm to cup her breast, his hand big and dark on the milky white skin. "The way her body responds to my touch."

He slid his arms around her until her breasts were nestled against his chest. "Whether she fits in my arms as if she'd been made just for me."

A moment later he was nudging her thighs apart, slipping inside of her, filling her once again. Her eyes were open, and she watched him, watched the look of utter concentration on his face.

"I think about whether I go a little crazy every time I'm inside of her. Whether she's the first thing I think about every morning when I'm still half asleep, whether her face is drifting through my mind at night. Whether I can't stop thinking about her all day, and worrying about her and wishing I was with her. Whether I can't stop wishing I could stand between her and the rest of the world and make sure no one ever hurts her again, or make it plain that anyone who dares try will have to answer to me. I think about whether I want to own her, body and soul. Whether I have a thoroughly primitive urge to stake my claim, one that can never be ignored."

He started moving inside of her, in and out in long, powerful strokes, and she clung to him, her hands on the powerful muscles of his upper arms, her nipples nestled into the dark, curling hairs on his chest. His mouth came down to hers, then went to her neck.

"That's how I judge a woman, Allie. That's how I know."

"Know what?" she whispered.

"That you belong here with me."

* * *

What could a woman say to that, Allie thought as she lay in his bed a few minutes later. His cream-colored sheets still tangled around her, his bed still warm from the heat of his body, his scent still clinging to the pillow where she lay her head. It was just a bunch of pretty words, the practical side of her, worried they were moving much too fast, argued. Sweet, flattering, arousing words. He didn't have to bother with them. He didn't need words at all to seduce her. She'd fallen easily enough into his bed, and she had no desire to leave.

But it hadn't felt like empty, meaningless words, her heart argued. It had felt real. That marvelous look in his smoke-colored eyes, that mesmerizing mouth, the magical feel of him moving inside of her—all of that seemed to work to spin some kind of spell around her to make her believe everything he said.

"I don't think I want to know what's going through your head right now."

Allie looked up and saw him standing there, a mountain of smooth, wet golden skin and muscles, covered by nothing but a bath towel. He looked marvelous when he was naked. Even when he was mad.

"I was just—"

"No. I mean it. I can tell from the expression on your face that I don't want to know."

"Stephen—"

He turned his back to her and started tearing through his closet for clothes. "Don't tell me you regret this, Allie, okay? Don't tell me. Not now."

"All right. I won't."

"Don't tell me it was a mistake, either."

He dropped the towel and stepped into a pair of white briefs, then jeans, faded to a pale blue that clung to every enticing curve. He grabbed a shirt, shoving his arms through the sleeves and buttoning it.

"It's getting late," she said carefully. "And I want to get back to Casey."

"I thought you would." He gave her a bleak look. "Take a shower first, if you like. I'll find us something to eat, and then we'll get out of here."

Allie waited until he left the room, then stood up, taking the sheet with her as she walked into the bathroom, still hot and steamy and smelling of him.

She stood in front of the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back at her. Her hair was a mess, and she looked very pale, except for a reddish spot on her skin here and there from where he'd nuzzled his cheek or his jaw or his mouth against her, the stubble on his face abrading her skin. She looked exactly like a woman who'd spent the early evening hours in bed with a man, one who claimed she looked perfect in his bed, that she felt perfect in his arms. She was falling head over heels in love with him.

Be smart,
Allie told herself.
For once in your life, be smart.

There'd been silly, childish dreams running through her head almost since the day she and her mother ran away, dreams about putting her family back together again. About having what most of the other kids had—a mother and a father and a brother or a sister and a home. A place to belong and feel safe and be loved. Allie hadn't had that in so long. She wasn't sure if she ever had it. Maybe it had all been some trick of her memory, like the visions she had of her sister and her mother. But she'd wanted that perfect little family, that sense of belonging. And Stephen...
Damn him.
Stephen had made her want that all over again. With him.

Allie dragged herself into the shower. She washed hurriedly, was dressed and back downstairs before she'd even planned what she might say to him. She found him in the kitchen. He didn't look up as she walked into the room.

"All set?" he said.

Allie nodded, and then, when he went to walk past her and out of the room, she blocked his path. "I told you I'm not very good at this, Stephen. At the trusting part. And it's not just because of what happened between Megan and your brother."

His hands came up to her shoulders, holding her lightly, rubbing at the tension in her, sending tears to her eyes from the gentleness of his touch. He'd always been so gentle with her.

"Think about my life, Stephen. Everyone I've ever trusted has lied to me."

"I know, baby."

"How am I supposed to trust anyone after that?"

"Allie, I understand." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "And even knowing all of that, there are so many things I want to tell you, things I have no right to say. Not now."

"What things?"

"That this is your home," he insisted. "It doesn't matter how far you go or how long you stay away, this will always be home. It gets in your blood, Allie. You can't escape it. Every time I leave, I feel it pulling at me. Every time I come back, I feel it, too. In my heart. My soul. My body recognizes this place instinctively. Something about the way the sky looks or the particular shade of green in the grass. The way the fields rise and fall, rolling one into the next. The way the air smells and the way it feels against my skin. It's my home. And yours, too."

"Stephen—"

"I want you to stay with me. It's too soon. I know it. But I still want you right here, in my house and in my bed. I want you to give us a chance, Allie. When all this is over, and you know everything, I want you to give us some time, to figure out what's between us," he said. "I know Kentucky holds bad memories for you. But it holds good ones, too. It's your home, and I think you belong here with me. I think you could be happy here. I'd make it my mission in life to see that you're happy."

She couldn't hold back her tears then They flooded her eyes and spilled over, running down her cheeks. Stephen pushed her face against his shoulder and held her gently. She couldn't help but think that he was a man who made things happen. That if he said he was going to make her happy, he would.

Allie closed her eyes and took a leap of faith. "I... I've never felt this way before. About any man."

"I'm glad to hear it."

She laughed and kissed the side of his face. He wiped away more tears, his palm coming to rest against her cheek.

"A lot of women have come in and out of my life over the years. I've never felt this way about any of them, either." He looked down into her eyes, his gaze compelling, never wavering. "Just think about it. Think about staying."

"I will."

He caught her close, held her so tightly she could barely breathe, and she had the oddest sensation. Of everything in her life falling neatly into place. Maybe he was the man who was going to give her everything she'd ever wanted.

* * *

Much as he hated taking her back to that house, where the memories were eating her alive and the past kept tearing at their present, she insisted on going. So Stephen took her.

When he had a moment alone, he pulled out his cell phone. He was rattled by the idea that his brother had mistaken Allie for her sister, despite the fact that Megan was supposed to be dead and that Rich had to know Allie was back in town. Which made Stephen wonder—did Rich have reason to think Megan might have survived?

Someone died in that car crash. They'd buried a body and put Megan's name on the tombstone. But could there have been a mistake back then?

He was reaching, he knew. However, for Allie's sake, he wanted to believe it was possible. She'd lost so much already, and one day soon, she was going to hate him. He wanted her to have someone in her life then, someone she trusted, someone she loved. It wouldn't make up for what he'd done to her. But if he could give her her nephew, she wouldn't be all alone anymore.