Читать книгу Mills & Boon Showcase - Christy McKellen - Страница 37

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT turned into a painful morning as Matt arrived at his office. For the first time in his life he had arrived after eight and already regretted the time spent in self-recrimination over a past that he could not change. He walked through the waiting room on a direct route to his office and saw Tate stand and walk towards him.

“We need to talk,” Tate said bluntly. He was looking him directly in the eye and was obviously not going to back down or be dissuaded.

“Not here,” Matt replied, aware that there was potential for this conversation to end in the two men coming to blows, and wanting to keep that event out of the office. “I need a cup of coffee.”

The two men walked out in silence and remained that way for the ten minutes it took them to reach a local coffee shop. They each ordered and sat down at a table, sizing up each other. Tate was not backing down in his gaze or the hard line of his jaw.

“Are you here to tell me to stay away from Kate?” Matt asked bluntly, challenging the man sitting opposite him.

“No. Kate is a grown woman who is capable of making her own decisions,” Tate answered calmly. The man was confident, but Matt would be too if he had just come from Kate’s bed.

“Apparently,” he replied sarcastically. “So what do we need to talk about, then?”

“Whether you are the best person to be representing us,” Tate answered in the same calm tone, unfazed by Matt’s barb.

“I’m the best,” Matt stated definitively. Through the long hours of last night he had questioned that very issue, wondering if he could stand being with Kate and the man who had taken his place throughout the duration of the case. In the end he’d decided to stay on the case because he still wanted the best for her, and he was still the best.

“I don’t doubt that. My problem is that your former relationship with Kate and the unresolved issues between you are not compatible with working well together. You also probably do not have my best interests at the top of your list of priorities either.” Tate was faintly smiling at his last comment.

“So you want me to resign from the case?” Matt asked, feeling no patience for whatever game the other man was playing.

“That was my first instinct. Then I realized that your resignation would lead to a lot of questions. The last thing I want is for anyone else to know about you and Kate.” Any trace of a smile was gone and Matt saw anger in his eyes for the first time since his initial disclosure of their past together.

“Why is that? You don’t like the comparison?” Matt knew he shouldn’t be pushing, but he couldn’t help himself, his burning resentment overtaking his well-practiced interview skills.

“What I don’t want is the hospital administration rumor mill circulating the exploits of Dr. Spence’s sex life. She’ll be portrayed as something we both know she’s not.”

Matt hated Tate at that moment, hated and respected him for putting Kate first. It was sickening to think that she might have replaced him with a man who was better and more worthy of her than him.

“So what do you want?” Matt finally responded.

“I want you to do your job. I want the lawsuit against us dropped so that we all can move on with our lives.”

“And Kate?”

“I’ve said what I came here today to say. You can figure out the rest.” Then he walked out, leaving Matt at the table.

How many casualties did an event have to involve before it was considered to be a mass trauma? Kate wondered. She was sitting in the café near her brownstone, studying for the board exam, and unfortunately drawing parallels between the state of her life and emergency states. Factor A, the man who had broken her heart. Factor B, a lawsuit threatening her career. Factor C, the risk of failing the board exam due to stress from the aforementioned factors A and B. For the first time in years she was distracted; the words she read fleeing her mind as soon as she read them.

She felt overwhelmed. This was not a new state for her as she was constantly overwhelmed by the physical and emotional strain of her job. But now, for the first time, she felt guilt towards Matt, and the mere presence of the new emotion was enough to push her past her tipping point. It was a struggle, feeling anger towards him and his nerve at coming back into her life as if he belonged there and on the other hand feeling guilt for misleading him about the status of her relationship with Tate. She didn’t want to be the bad guy; she didn’t want to be anything. She wanted to let go of her relationship with Matt; she just didn’t know how to do that.

As if on cue, she lifted her eyes away from her textbook for the hundredth time that afternoon, but this time they fell on Matt. He was walking towards her in jeans and a black polo shirt, which made him look younger than his expensive tailored suits did. The effect was still the same, though, and she watched as several female heads turned and admired everything he had to offer. It was odd that she never stopped being taken in by his pure physical beauty. It wasn’t just his tall stature, powerful build, or the face whose features aligned perfectly, from his deep blue eyes to the perfect faint pink lips that sat between the masculine jaw and nose. It was him, his presence, the effortlessness he exuded.

This was not a made-up appearance, this was who he was—a man like no other. She couldn’t look away, even when parts of her reacted treacherously, still apparently remembering the feel of and taste of him from nights earlier.

Aside from unwanted attraction, she couldn’t move past the astonishment of watching Matt walk up to her table and take a seat opposite her, so much like years past that it hurt, and she swallowed the pain she felt rising within her. She waited, speechless, to hear what was going to come next. What else did they have to say to each other? How much more pain could they cause each other?

“Ask me how I found you?” It was more of a challenge than a question. He was resting on his forearms on the table, his body leaning forward, his entire focus on her.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, confused with where the conversation was going.

He reached over and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, twirling it in his fingers before he uncovered her face. “Because, Kate, I know you.”

“No, you don’t.” She lacked his conviction. His single touch had been less physically intimate than most of their contact since his return, but emotionally it tore at her resolve. He seemed to believe every word he was saying, but she still felt the need to contradict him, to protect herself from the temptation of him.

“Yes, Kate, I do. I appreciate and respect everything that you have accomplished, but that doesn’t change who you are.”

“Who am I, Matt?” She couldn’t resist the question. It was a question that had plagued her for years. Who was she in his eyes?

“You’re mine.” His eyes flashed with the same possession his words held. She should have been offended, she should have been afraid, but what she felt was want.

“No.” The word escaped her lips, but in truth it was more a reminder to herself of what she could not have.

“Yes, you are, Kate, you always have been. You and I both know that.”

She had been his. She couldn’t deny that she had been one hundred percent in her feelings towards him, so much so that the memory of their coming together still brought with it as much a memory of completeness as it did emotional pain. She had also never given him up, not completely, not enough to move on and fall in love with someone else. Enough was enough, though. She wasn’t going to let him keep playing whatever game he was playing.

“What do you want, Matt?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you.”

“It’s too late, Matt, you can’t have me.” Nothing changed in his demeanor, except that he appeared even more focused and more all-encompassing. He had heard her, but obviously didn’t believe her.

“I already have you, Kate, and this time I have no intention of walking away. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we’ll all be better off.”

Then, without warning, he stood over the table, leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. This time he lingered. She could smell his cologne, breathed in his scent, and felt that heat of his body, before he pulled away. Then, just as he had joined her, he turned and left.

Shock seeped through her from her forehead, which he had kissed so sweetly, to all the muscles inside her that contracted at his touch. Several parts of their conversation competed for attention in her mind. Had he remembered the night she had cried about her mother and he had kissed her on the forehead after carrying her to bed, the night she had realized she was in love with him?

Then there were his words, not just the words but the way he had said them. He had left no room for doubt that he had meant everything he had said. But would she know if he hadn’t? She had spent her career learning to trust herself and her instincts, but with Matt she couldn’t trust herself, her feelings, or him. All the words, declarations, and touches couldn’t change the words that had been carved into her soul. “Katie, I’m sorry. I don’t love you.”

The offensive wail of her pager broke through her thoughts and provided temporary respite. She dialed the hospital operator and was patched through to the emergency department. Within a minute she was gone from the shop, her focus back where it needed to be and the past left behind.