Break Away (The Baltimore Banners Book 5) (12 page)

Emily wasn't here. She left Taylor behind and went somewhere. With another man. Was it the man he had seen her with at the rink?

JP's fist clenched around his bag, a loud roar blaring in his head, blocking out the noise bouncing off the walls and floors of the lobby. No, he didn't want to stay here, didn't want to go to the park, didn't want to humiliate himself more than he already had.

He looked down at Taylor, opened his mouth...but didn't get a chance to say anything because Mat nudged him to the side, his expression warning him not to say anything. Mat leaned down, giving Taylor a small smile, and answered for all four of them before JP could say a word.

"We'd love to go. Do you think any of the rollercoasters are open?"

"I'm sorry."

Emily didn't even bother looking at the man sitting next to her. Or at the three other men sitting two rows in front of them. From what she could see, their attention was focused on the game taking place on the ice. But looks were deceiving and she had no doubt they were actually listening to their conversation.

Or trying to. JP's voice was pitched low, his voice gruff with sleepiness. She doubted they could hear him, not over the other noises around them.

And Emily wasn't talking. She absolutely refused to say anything. If she started, she might not be able to stop. And she was very much afraid that her voice would be louder than JP's gruff whisper. A lot louder.

He was here. He had actually driven all the way up here. And not by himself, either. He had brought three of his teammates with him. For Taylor, so she'd have people cheering her own.

At least, that was his explanation. His actions last night said something completely different.

Emily had reluctantly gone with Karl, one of the team dads, to pick up the snacks and gifts for this afternoon. Taylor had been left in good hands and they had made plans to meet over at the park with the rest of the team.

She had never imagined that JP would show up—with several of his teammates. Not in a million years could she have foreseen that. Why should she? The entire idea was ludicrous.

But there he was. Him and his teammates. Surrounding Taylor and acting like self-appointed body guards while they walked through the park. They had been laughing and joking, talking with some of the other kids from Taylor's team in their small group. If that had been it, Emily wouldn't have minded. She would have still been surprised, obviously, but it wouldn't have really bothered her quite so much.

It was JP's actions that had been inexcusable. He had questioned her. No, not questioned. Interrogated. Wanting to know where she had gone, who she had been with, why she had left. And if that hadn't been bad enough, he then had the nerve to accuse her of abandoning Taylor.

If not for her niece and how much fun she was having, she would have been tempted to go back to their room, Taylor in tow. No, she would have been tempted to just leave, drive back home.

But she couldn't.

And now she wanted to hit him. Just haul off and slug him, as hard as she could. But she couldn't do that, either, because it might draw attention to them.

More attention than they were already drawing. Much to Emily's dismay, people noticed JP and his teammates. Not just noticed—they recognized them. And while most people were courteous enough to leave them alone, at least while the game was going on, a few people had come up to say hello or ask for an autograph.

So no, Emily couldn't hit him. She couldn't even move away from him. The tournament was being held in the arena used by one of the minor league teams, so they were actually in seats instead of sitting on cold metal bleachers. Granted, the seats were old wooden ones and not very comfortable, but they made it impossible for Emily to slide away, to put more space between them. She had already moved twice but JP had followed her each time.

And so did his teammates.

The best Emily could do was ignore him. Them. But it was getting harder to do.

Like right now. Instead of watching the game, JP was sitting sideways, facing her, his hand dangerously close to her arm as he leaned toward her. She could feel the heat of his body, could see the frustration on his face from the corner of her eye.

"I truly am sorry, my
Emilie
."

She clenched her jaw tight, doing her best to ignore the unwanted spark that flashed inside her when he slipped into the French pronunciation of her name. His accent had become thicker in the past hour, something that used to happen when he was upset or excited in the past. Damn, why did she remember that? She shouldn't be remembering.

"Stop." Emily forced the word through her clenched teeth, making it sound more like a hiss than anything else. But he either didn't hear her, or chose to ignore her, because he leaned even closer, his hand finally resting on her arm.

"I acted like a
connard
. Like a...a
fils de pute
, a
salaud
last night. I was wrong.

I should not have said what I did."

"Why did you say it? What gave you the right to even suggest I would abandon my niece?" Damn, she hadn't meant to say anything, had only wanted to keep ignoring him. But the words had tumbled out before she could stop them, the need to know stronger than her need to remain quiet.

JP slid his hand along her arm, down to her own hand. Before she could react, he threaded his fingers with hers and squeezed. But he didn't release her hand, not even when she tried to tug it from his grasp.

"I was upset."

"Really? I couldn't tell." Emily thought she heard choked laughter from someone in front of them but when she looked down, all three men seemed to be completely focused on the game. She narrowed her eyes at their backs and thought about saying something, then decided against it.

"I wanted to surprise you and—"

"Yeah, you did that."

JP kept talking, as if she hadn't even spoken. "And I was upset when you weren't here. When Taylor told me you went with...with that
branleur
, I was unhappy."

"Unhappy?"

"I don't like the way he looks at you. Like you are dessert and he is a starving man."

It took her a second to figure out what JP was saying. When she did, she wasn't sure whether to laugh at the ridiculousness of his words, or to hit him. "You have got to be kidding me."

JP watched her for a long second, his eyes narrowed, a flush spreading across his cheeks. Then he let loose a string of French so fast that she didn't understand it. Or rather, most of it. The few words she did pick up were ones that shouldn't be repeated in mixed company.

He finally stopped, his soft lips parted with each heavy breath, his brown eyes dark and intense as he watched her. Emily felt like she was losing herself in his gaze, falling with no chance of a soft landing, falling with no chance of surviving.

Her own breathing became heavy, like the air around them was suddenly suffocating, oppressing. She licked her lips and tried to look away but she couldn't. JP's dark gaze held hers, intense, smoldering, demanding.

Emily pulled air into her burning lungs, finally breaking the spell of JP's gaze. She looked around, wondering if anyone else had seen what just happened. But nobody was paying them any attention and she wondered if maybe she had imagined it.

She shifted in the hard wooden seat then risked a glance back at JP. He was still watching her, but his eyes had lost that dark intensity. Maybe she had imagined it. The one thing she didn't imagine was his rant. It didn't matter that she didn't understand the words—the tone of his voice and his expression had said enough.

"Number one, Karl is married—"

"Oh, and married men are blind now?"

"And is very much in love with his wife. Who is in the Army. Overseas." Emily leaned closer, her teeth clenched. "In Afghanistan. We talked about her, and their son, who also misses her."

At least JP had enough sense to look contrite. He leaned back, his gaze dropping to their clasped hands as a pale flush tinged his cheeks. Emily tried pulling her hand from his once more but he only tightened his grasp.

"Number two. It is none of your business who I am with, or who I see. You do not have that right."

"
Merde
." JP sighed and ran his free hand through his already mussed hair. He shifted and looked, suddenly interested in whatever was happening around them. His discomfort was obvious and if Emily still wasn't so upset, she'd probably take greater pleasure in it.

"And number three—"

"What if I want that right?"

"What?"

JP leaned forward, his mouth dangerously close to hers. She leaned back but not far enough, hampered by the arm of the chair. And she was suddenly certain that she could run to the other side of the arena and it still wouldn't be far enough.

"What if I want—"

"I heard you the first time." Oh God, was he serious? Was he actually trying to get back together? He couldn't be. She had to be imagining it. Why? After all this time? After everything that had happened between them? Why? She wasn't his type, not any more, probably not ever. Damn her heart for speeding up, damn the jolt of excitement that made her pulse soar. No. He couldn't be serious. She couldn't let herself believe it. She had to focus on something else, had to steer the conversation away from whatever he might be thinking.

"Emily—"

"And number three: how dare you accuse me of abandoning Taylor? Who do you think you are, telling me what I should—"

"I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Dammit JP. Stop!" Emily finally yanked her hand from his and folded her arms across her chest. She didn't miss the shock that crossed his face and filled his eyes. Emily might swear when she was thinking, but she rarely cursed out loud. "You can't just keep showing up like this, acting like nothing happened. I don't know what you want, I don't know how to act around you. Not anymore."

JP stiffened, his entire body still. With a heavy sigh he finally turned in the seat, his shoulders slumping. "Forgive me."

"JP. Jean-Pierre..." Emily let her voice drift off, not sure what to think, let alone what to say. She didn't know who JP was any longer. She wasn't even sure she knew who she was.

And what did she want? If JP got up and left now, and she never saw him again, would she regret it? The tightness that squeezed her chest at the thought told her she would. But how could she even think about opening herself to him once more? After what had happened? They were two different people now. Especially JP.

She wouldn't admit it, but she had occasionally looked him up, tried to follow his career. He wasn't a saint. She doubted he had ever been one, not really, but some of the stories she had read, the pictures she had seen. No, he definitely wasn't a saint. Could she willingly open herself to him again? Take a chance? It had taken her so long to get over what happened the last time. Not just the miscarriage. But the feeling of being abandoned, rejected. How could she willingly take the risk of living through that pain again, knowing that this time it could be worse?

Because it would be. Much worse. There was no doubt about that.

But what if she didn't take the chance? What would she be missing out on if she didn't?

She was afraid of the answer.

Emily squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath, trying to drown out the noise around them, trying to think, to listen. To feel.

"What do you want from me, JP?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, her question unanswered for so long she thought he didn't hear her. Then a warm hand, large and calloused, closed over hers and gently squeezed.

"Dinner. Go to dinner with me."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, surprised at the soft request. JP watched her, his deep eyes drawing her in. There was no teasing, no laughter, in his gaze. Just need. And hesitation, doubt.

"Just dinner? That's it?"

"It is a start,
non
?"

"Why? I don't understand, JP. Why now? After everything that's happened?"

"Because I want—" he paused, squeezed her hand, took a deep breath. "Because I think there is still something between us."

The breath left Emily's lungs in a rush, the last gasp catching in her throat. She suddenly felt dizzy, lightheaded. Had she heard him right? Or were the words merely her imagination, an auditory hallucination of what she wanted to hear? JP was watching her, his eyes concerned. He reached out with one hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear then ran the tips of his fingers along her jaw, his touch lingering for a long moment.

"
Emilie
?"

She blinked, swallowed, tried to catch her bearings. Everything seemed off-balance, the world spinning. She blinked once more and waited for the spinning to stop. Then she looked at JP again, her eyes meeting his. "What?"

"Will you have dinner with me?"

"Wh—" She cleared her throat and willed her voice to work. "When?"

"Friday night?"

"We have a game Friday night." The voice came from two rows down, pitched in a loud whisper that carried back to them. JP scowled, then looked back at her.

"Saturday night."

"We have a game Saturday night too."

"Thursday and Sunday are open, though."

Emily had to bite back her laugh, especially when JP turned in his seat and threw something at the trio in front of them, muttering something in French. The scowl remained on his face when he turned back to her.

"
Les imbéciles
. All three of them." The scowl slowly disappeared, replaced by the barest smile. "Emily, will you have dinner with me? On Thursday. Or Sunday."