HER ONE AND ONLY VALENTINE - (21 page)

'No love and no—
this?'
His voice dropped. 'Because it was safer that way?'

'Maybe—partly—I don't know. But it doesn't matter now.'

His fingers spread wide against her waist, his thumbs brushing against the bottom of her ribcage as he tilted his face over hers, his eyes even more intense close up. 'No love so you couldn't get hurt—'

'Love doesn't guarantee a marriage will last.'

His gaze dropped to her parted lips as he moved his hands along her sides, drawing another gasp from her. 'And no
this
—because?'

'Because
this
doesn't last—when I'm ninety and grey-haired and round-shouldered, even
we
wouldn't still have this.'

His gaze rose, the pupils of his eyes large and dark, his voice huskier. 'Oh, I don't know. I think
we'd
still have
this.
It certainly hasn't gone away, has it? When I'm ninety-three, grey-haired and round-shouldered, I think I'd still give it my best shot.'

And talk like that just made her heart ache all the more. 'It's still not enough on its own.'

All right, what more is there?'

'Like I'd know.' She laughed nervously, feeling herself on the edge of a mildly panicky hysteria. 'In case you hadn't noticed, my track record isn't very good. If you need tips for future reference you'd be better asking someone who hasn't discovered that they do much better on their own.'

'You married the wrong man, that's all.' When her eyes widened at the statement, he leaned his head a little closer, his breath fanning out over her heated cheeks. 'And you
didn't
have
this
with
him.'

There was nothing beyond the kiss; no sound barring their deep breathing, no light barring the ones that danced behind her eyelids, nothing that wasn't completely focused on his firm mouth moving against her soft lips.

She was drowning in him.

He traced his lips along hers, added a little pressure, tugged on her bottom lip until she opened her mouth on a low moan and he deepened the kiss, coaxing her tongue to dance with his.

It wasn't fair. She couldn't do this again—not the physical
alone.
This time she wanted more from him. And there was just too much history. Try as they might, the mistakes would always be there. The mistakes that would open up cracks in any relationship they tried and eventually drive them apart.

And Rhiannon knew she wouldn't survive it this time.

Kane tore his mouth from hers, his face still close as he searched her eyes. 'A lot of people don't even have this, you know. And we have more than this already. We have a child. Is that enough, do you think?'

What did he mean? He couldn't possibly mean...?

It took a split second for it to sink in. 'You can't be serious. You're suggesting some kind of a—what is it called—?' she stared up at him in disbelief'—marriage of convenience? You honestly think I'd ever consider that—with
you?'

He scowled. 'Why not with me?'

'I can't believe you think I'd even consider it. With one failed marriage behind me, do you honestly think I'd enter into that kind of
a farce?
What the hell century do you think we live in?'

He stepped back from her. 'All along we've said for Liz—'

"O-oh
no!' She waggled a finger at him when she had enough space, her eyes blazing with hurt, anger and a rapidly growing sense of humiliation. 'Don't you dare use the "for Lizzie's sake" line! I'm more than capable of looking after her on my own. I'll do whatever it takes for her to get to spend time with you, but that's only because you're a different person with her than you are with me.'

And that killed her above all else. He could love his child unconditionally and yet still think that a loveless marriage would be something her mother would consider! When there was just no way she could do it. And, even if she could, she couldn't with
him.
Not when she loved him like she did.

Tears glittered in her eyes as she laid it all on the line for him. 'The Kane Healey I saw dancing with his daughter tonight is a thousand times more of a man than the one who stood here right this minute! He's this amazing guy who doesn't have a problem with showing how much he loves her, even after so little time. If I ever married again it would be for a whole combination of things and part of that
would
be love—it would have to be, for me. And it's not here, so never in
a million years
would I ever marry you.'

He had the gall to look amused. 'A million years?'

'Yes! A million years.' She hiccupped on the words and stepped forward, lifting both hands to shove against his chest. 'Get the hell away from me. I take back every nice thought I've had about you since I got to know you this time round.'

'What kind of nice thoughts?'

She shoved him again. 'I was dumb enough to think you were much more than I'd realized first time around.' Another shove, and each one took him back a step until he had his back against the wooden banister, where she laughed in his face. T was even stupid enough to find it weird around here without you! But now I'm glad you left!'

His eyes turned a darker shade of blue, his mouth lifting into the softest smile she had ever seen, one that almost looked affectionate, but she knew was amusement again because she'd just given him yet another victory, hadn't she?

'Mac—' The nickname came out with a husky edge.

'And don't you dare call me that! I hate you!'

'No, you don't.'

She laughed again, sarcastically this time. 'Right this second I do! You might not have managed to completely break my heart the first time round, but you're close to managing it
this time.
If you gave a damn about me, even as Lizzie's mother, then you'd care about my chance at happiness!'

Grabbing her skirt in two fists, she turned on her heel and ran up the next flight of stairs, determined to get to her bedroom and lock the door before he could stop her. But he didn't follow her. He didn't make any attempt to stop her or to tell her she'd got him wrong. Or even to say that she deserved a chance to be happy.

And she
did
genuinely hate him for that.

Kane needed to find a way to get Rhiannon to talk to him again. And fast. Because the longer he let it fester, the harder she would be to persuade that he'd simply got his approach wrong the night before.

It was her damn fault, after all. If she didn't have him so sideways most of the time then he'd have made a better job of it! But oh, no, last night she had floored him the second he'd laid eyes on her. Ten years ago they'd have lasted five minutes at that party!

Then there'd been the dance and finally holding her in his arms when he'd done nothing but think about holding her again since he'd left. Damn her—even the five minutes he got to talk to her on the phone each time he called Lizzie had been proving the highlight of his day of late. He was obsessed by her. And that had made him look more closely at how he'd felt about her the first time around. Had he been in love and not known it? There was no way of knowing, but it would be a rational explanation for the fact that he'd felt so much so fast this time round. He'd felt every emotion going since meeting her again. And he hadn't known what it all meant, not really, not until he was away from her and from Lizzie—
his family.
He'd missed them—
both of them
— more than he would ever have thought it possible to miss anyone.

But it had taken Rhiannon to stand there in
that dress,
looking as beautiful as she did, with a frame of soft lights and flowers behind her, for him to have what he already knew confirmed. Yes, he knew what the elusive
something more
was now...

Now all he had to do was put it right.

After several hours tossing and turning in the wee small hours, while he fought the urge to storm down the hall and convince her the old-fashioned way that she'd misread what he was trying to say, a tiny seed of an idea came to him. By six-thirty it was a full-blown plan. Then all he had to do was hire an accomplice...

When Lizzie announced she was going to make dinner on her own, Rhiannon escaped to her room to take a break from the constant smiling she'd been forced to do all day long. She'd done everything to avoid spending time with Kane—everything. She'd put the furniture back, cleared up—and there was a lot to clear up!—and hoovered and dusted. She hadn't even stopped for lunch. The theory being that the busier she stayed then the sooner the day would be over and he'd be gone again.

Something she prayed would happen
very soon
when she caught glimpses of him with Lizzie during the day—laughing, smiling and hugging when the notion struck them. They were
both
torturing her and it
hurt.

But after a long soak in the bath, when she felt capable of facing them both again, she found a picture pinned to the kitchen door with Lizzie's multicoloured handwriting telling her it was out of bounds.

A tingling on the back of her neck told her Kane was nearby. Apparently we're not allowed in the kitchen.'

He walked over to stand beside her, his arms folded across his chest as he dropped his chin to read the note, frowning at it. 'I wonder what she's up to?'

Rhiannon sighed. 'I have no idea.'

They both stood there for another minute, until the ache in her chest started to demand her attention again. She was too emotionally drained to play games with Lizzie. 'I might just skip dinner. I'm still tired after last night.'

'You should eat something. You skipped lunch.' He knocked on the door, his voice rising, 'Can we come in?'

'No!'

Rhiannon sighed again. 'Have you any idea
when?'

The door swung open and Lizzie stepped through, closing it behind her. Both of her parents stared at her before Kane asked, 'What's in your hair?'

She lifted a hand, swiped at it and then sucked it off her finger. 'Mayonnaise.'

Kane nodded. 'Of course it is.'

'You aren't having dinner in the kitchen; you're having it in the stove room. Come on.'

Oh, Rhiannon
so
didn't want to play, not today, but a glance at Kane, who quirked his dark brows in challenge, was enough to galvanize her. She'd be damned if he took anything more from her than he already had! So she followed Lizzie down the slope to the stove room, unprepared for what she found when she got there.

'What
is
this?'

The room was bedecked with various crepe paper and cardboard hearts and pink paper chains. The hexagonal table underneath the window was set for two, with paper cups covered in yet more hearts and a single daffodil beside a candle.

Lizzie beamed up at them both after Kane ducked his head under the door frame. 'Happy Valentine's Day!'

Oh, no.
Rhiannon could have curled up and died.

Kane leaned closer to ask her in a stage whisper, 'Did you know it was still Valentine's Day?'

Frowning hard, she shook her head, then stopped. 'Well, actually, yes, I suppose I did. The Ball was a day early because it couldn't be on a Sunday when most people have work on Monday and...'

Her words petered out as a thought occurred to her and she scowled up at him. 'I had nothing to do with this.'

He smiled. 'I know.'

'Mum, you sit over that side—' Lizzie pointed at the far chair '—and Dad, you sit here.'

It was the first time she'd called him Dad. They both turned to look at her, then back at each other with a shared smile of understanding at the importance of the one tiny word. It was a bittersweet moment for Rhiannon.

'Maybe we should just humour her?'

But it didn't feel any less dreadful to Rhiannon when they were sitting at the table and Lizzie handed matches to Kane. 'You have to light the candle. It's more romantic that way.'

Rhiannon moaned a low moan, resting her elbow on the table so she could hide her eyes behind her hand. She heard the door close and then a deep chuckle.

'This is nice.'

'I'm glad you think so.' She glared at him from behind her open fingers. 'You do know what she's doing?'

He grinned, resting his forearms on the table so he could lean forward, his voice still low. 'Yes, I know
exactly
what she's doing.'

Rhiannon moaned again and dropped her forehead on to the table. 'I really don't know how much more of these twenty-four hours I can take.' She continued in a muffled voice, feeling sick to her stomach, 'We can't let her think this will lead to anything. You'll have to talk to her.'

She heard him chuckle again.

'Why do
I
have to talk to her?'

Because her mother didn't think she could look her in the eyes and tell her that she didn't love her father that way, that was why, even when she currently hated his guts. Flip side of the same thing, she guessed... And, in fairness, it had always been that way—he'd always been able to make her as mad as a hatter with a few sentences. The only difference back then had been how he'd made it up to her afterwards.