Part 43 (2/2)
”Love doesn't have to be a messy thing. It can be uncomplicated. Pure. Sustaining. Something that keeps you going. Look at your grandfather and Miss Libby. They've birthed a dynasty and have looked out for each other for over half a century. Look to that. Look to them. You, Connor, are not capable of tearing apart families. It's not in your moral fiber.”
He looked back at the woman in the slinky, tight dress and the long hair. He couldn't quite make out the color, but... ”G.o.d d.a.m.n you.” Anger propelled him to his feet.
Julien grabbed him. ”It's not her.”
Connor looked again.
”It's not,” Julien insisted.
He looked more closely. Julien was right. It couldn't possibly be Lara. The woman was much shorter, had a few more curves and her hair was significantly shorter. ”How did you know?”
”For whatever reason, the woman says she loves you.” With his finger, he made a little circle. ”I know. Crazy talk, right? I'm sure she's still healing. She's not the type to go and replace you right away. I do question her judgment, though. Who the h.e.l.l would give her heart to someone who wouldn't protect it?”
Those words ravaged him, as Julien had probably intended.
It was his obligation, as a Dom, to have handled it better. As a Dom? f.u.c.k, as a human being. As a man.
The momentary blur of jealousy had taught him one thing. He could no longer deny the fact he loved Lara Bertrand. He just hoped his stupidity hadn't cost him the first woman who'd been brave enough to love him. He couldn't blame her if it had. He didn't deserve her.
Chapter Fourteen.
The commotion of multiple dogs barking shattered the silence.
”Suzy-Q, no!”
Lara turned down the television volume. In one of her less-than spectacular moments, she'd chosen an Indiana Jones film to pa.s.s the evening. The theme music alone had been enough to send her back in time to Connor's loft and the memory of snuggling on his couch. The sight of Indy with his bullwhip had made her squirm.
Unbelievably, she still missed Connor with the same kind of intensity, even though she repeatedly soothed herself with the reminder that time healed everything. Anyone who believed that had not experienced the power of a single tail on her bare skin, delivered by a Dom who was skilled with his whip and generous with his o.r.g.a.s.ms.
She was about to turn the volume back up when her doorbell rang. Wondering if Mrs. Fuhrman needed some help with her dogs, she slipped on a pair of flip-flops and answered the door.
Suzy-Q stood there, a giant bouquet of flowers hanging from the side of her mouth.
Confused, she reached to take them from the dog, and just as she did, Connor stepped onto the porch.
Her breath froze as she straightened.
He looked every bit as disarming as he always did, in a light-gray sweater and charcoal-colored slacks.
His jaw was shadowed and his eyes were smudged with fatigue.
Suzy-Q jumped, banging her head into Lara's. Connor reached to steady her as she dropped the flowers.
”She never behaves like this,” Mrs. Fuhrman said, taking her time walking over. She had curlers in her hair, slippers on her feet and a robe cinched around her middle. ”She saw the moving guy and forced open the front door. I shouted at her, but I couldn't come over until I put a robe on. I'm so sorry, Lara. Are you all right? Suzy-Q, get down right now!”
The dog happily did so, and she crushed the flowers beneath her bear-sized paw.
”It was a much better idea in theory,” Connor said.
”It was perfect.”
He attached Suzy-Q's leash and gave the dog back to Mrs. Fuhrman.
”I think she wants to adopt you,” Mrs. Fuhrman said before walking away. ”Sometimes dogs do that, you know.”
Suddenly, it was just her and Connor. She leaned against the doorjamb, uncertain what to think, what to say, how to proceed.
He picked up the bouquet. Some of the petals fell off and several of the heads had been severed. A few blooms drooped over the side of the protective cellophane.
He offered it to her.
”I'm not sure I've ever had a more perfect gift.” She accepted it and pressed it against her chest. ”Thank you.”
”Can I come in?”
She hesitated. ”If this is about the communications deal, it's probably best if we meet at work.”
”It's about us.”
Her heart seemed to stop beating. She held the bouquet so close she crushed the few remaining perfect blooms.
”I'll stand out here all night, if you want.”
”Okay,” she said. It might be the only way to preserve her sanity. When he stood close, her resolve melted.
As if they were a s.h.i.+eld, she kept the flowers between them.
”I went to see your father.”
”You did...? Why?”
”To ask for your hand in marriage.”
She stared at him. She'd heard words come out of his mouth, but she was sure they'd been in the wrong order. Or maybe she'd heard what she wanted to hear instead of what he'd actually said. ”What? Why?” Her emotions slammed into one another-doubt, fear, distrust, each made her reel a little harder.
”Erin came to see me. She handed me my a.s.s.”
”Chicks before d.i.c.ks,” she said.
”And I...?”
”You are not a chick. I'll let you work out the rest.”
<script>