Читать книгу Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal - Kathryn Ross, Kathryn Ross - Страница 9

AFTER a night OF love-making, it was almost ten o’clock when Madeleine woke. She was alone in the big bed, but just as that fact registered the door opened and Rafe came in carrying a tray.

His dark hair was still damp from the shower, and he was wearing a short, navy-blue silk robe. ‘Good morning.’ He smiled lazily as she pushed herself upright. ‘I thought we’d be decadent and have breakfast in bed.’

He put the tray on the bedside table and, leaning over to kiss her, remarked wickedly, ‘After the night we’ve just spent, I don’t know how you can look so beautiful and fresh.’

‘I’m happy,’ she said simply. She had never thought she would say those words again.

He smiled at her. ‘Happiness suits you.’

As he sat on the bed and fed her toast and scrambled eggs and coffee, his voice casual, Rafe suggested, ‘Tell me some more about yourself.’

Instantly uneasy, she said, ‘There’s not a great deal to tell.’

Sensing that unease, and wondering what was causing it, he decided to go slowly. ‘Do your parents still live in London?’

‘They got divorced when I was twelve.’

‘Presumably it was your father’s dedication to work that caused the break-up.’

‘Yes. Though my mother loved him passionately, eventually she got fed up with him never being there for us.’ Madeleine turned her head away from him.

‘Was it an amicable parting?’

‘As amicable as these things ever can be.’

Rafe probed further, ‘But you must have missed him?’

‘Yes, I did, and I don’t think my mother ever really got over it.’ She felt her eyes begin to water, but she smiled as she looked up at Rafe.

‘She didn’t marry again?’

‘No. I believe she still loves him. Certainly there was never anyone else.’

‘Do you still see him?’

Madeleine shook her head. ‘Some time after the divorce he remarried and went to live in Los Angeles. We haven’t had any contact for years.’

Then, wanting to escape from the spotlight, she said quickly, ‘Now it’s your turn to tell me something about yourself.’

His face straight, he replied, ‘There’s not a great deal to tell.’ He laughed and kissed her, before beginning, ‘I lost my father when I was twelve. A year after he died, my mother married again. Her new husband was an ex-army officer.’

‘Did you all get on as a family?’

‘Diane, who’s seven years older than me, was away at university, so that left just the three of us, and unfortunately my stepfather and I didn’t get along. I resented him taking my father’s place and showed it, which, with hindsight, must have made life extremely difficult for my mother. My stepfather was a strict disciplinarian and after he’d whacked me a couple of times for what he termed insolence, I began to seriously hate his guts.’ Rafe paused for a moment before continuing.

‘Things went from bad to worse, and the whacks changed to beatings. On the final occasion, when he began to lay into me with his belt, my mother tried to intervene. He pushed her out of the way so roughly that she stumbled and fell. I saw red and went for him. I wasn’t quite fourteen at the time.’

Her aquamarine eyes full of concern, Madeleine asked, ‘What happened?’

Matter-of-factly, he said, ‘I managed to split his lip before ending up in Casualty.’

As she winced he added, ‘I think he may have been genuinely sorry afterwards. But it was patently obvious that things couldn’t go on like that, so I was hastily packed off to live with my godparents.’

Madeleine reached out to touch his arm. ‘Were you very upset?’

‘For a time I was very bitter,’ he admitted. ‘Though my godparents were amazing.’

‘Had they any children of their own?’

‘One daughter, Fiona. But they had always hoped for a son, and were only too delighted to have me.’

‘Fiona wasn’t jealous at all?’

His face softened. ‘Oh, no. We got to be very close. In fact for a while she hero-worshipped me. She was nearly three years younger than me, and I always called her my kid sister.’

‘So it was a good move?’

‘Oh, yes. The whole family treated me exactly like their own, and I was very happy with them until I went up to Oxford. My godfather died eighteen months ago and it was like losing a father…

‘But that’s enough doom and gloom—let’s talk about something else. What shall we do for the rest of the day? Would you like to—’

‘I can’t,’ she broke in desperately. On Sundays she always had lunch at the nursing home, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening there. ‘I mean, I’m already going out.’

When she made no effort to elaborate, he asked, ‘What time do you need to start?’

‘In about an hour.’

‘Then as soon as you’ve showered and dressed, I’ll take you home.’ Though his voice was even, she knew he was vexed by her reticence, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her mother. He was sure to ask questions that, burdened with guilt, she didn’t want to answer.

His profile cool and aloof, he drove through the Sunday streets in silence. She longed to break that silence, but could think of nothing to say.

When he drew up outside her flat and, still without speaking, helped her out, she felt a sudden panic in case this was the end.

What would she do if he simply drove away?

As though to keep her guessing, he unlocked her door and handed her back the key, before asking, ‘Are you free tomorrow evening?’

‘Yes,’ she said eagerly.

‘Then if you like, I’ll take you to see Katie and her parents. I’ve already mentioned your name to them.’

‘There’s just one thing…’ Madeleine began a shade awkwardly.

Reading her hesitation, he said, ‘You prefer to keep your private and professional lives separate?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘That’s fine by me. All they know up to now is that you’re the physiotherapist who checked me out, and we can keep it that way. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, and afterwards we can have dinner.’

Madeleine liked Rafe’s sister and brother-in-law on sight. Over drinks on the sunny terrace of their Surrey home she learnt that Diane, with her brother’s seal-dark hair and green eyes, was a lawyer, and Stuart, a pleasant, easy-going man, worked as an architect.

They both doted on their only daughter and were over the moon when Katie took an immediate liking to Madeleine, and agreed to have further treatment.

The liking was mutual. Madeleine instantly lost her heart to the quiet, sensitive child, with her long dark hair, her big brown eyes and shy smile.

Over the next few weeks, with regular treatments, Katie’s condition improved enormously, and a strong bond developed between her and Madeleine.

Rafe was delighted for everyone’s sake, but he stayed well out of things and, though his and Madeleine’s relationship grew and blossomed, it was never mentioned.

They spent as much time with one another as possible, dancing, dining, talking, simply being together.

Several times, while the good weather held, he barbecued for them on his patio. Afterwards, safe from prying eyes, they made sweet, delectable love in the sun.

As the days and weeks passed and Madeleine got to know him better, her happiness increased. Apart from his physical attributes and his prowess as a lover, he proved to be eventempered and generous, an intelligent, stimulating companion, always sensitive to her needs.

She knew that never in her lifetime would she find another man who suited her so well, and, eternally grateful, she said many a prayer of thanks to the goddess of destiny for the miracle that had brought him into her life.

Only her visits to the nursing home cast a shadow. Rafe said nothing openly, but she knew he was ruffled by her unexplained absences. Even a little jealous of whom she might be meeting.

Each time she tried to tell him the truth guilt made the words stick in her throat, and she chickened out. But one of these days, she promised herself, she would find the courage to tell him everything.

In the meantime, though she still spent most of Sunday at the nursing home, she had changed her Saturday visit to the morning—struggling with the shopping and housework when she could—to leave the afternoon free.

That Saturday afternoon they had something very special planned. Jonathan Cass was one of her favourite artists, and Rafe had accepted an invitation to a one-day private showing of Cass’s new, and so far unseen, works.

He had arranged to pick her up at twelve-thirty so they could have lunch together before going on to the Piccadilly gallery, and she left the nursing home earlier than usual to make certain she was home in good time.

She was only just back when the phone rang.

Sounding tense, unlike himself, Rafe said, ‘Some urgent business has cropped up. Would you mind very much if I picked you up after lunch?’

‘Of course not.’

Sounding relieved, he said, ‘Then I’ll see you about two.’

It had been a damp, grey morning, and by two o’clock it was pelting down with rain.

Rafe was always on time—she had never known him to be late—and as the hands of the clock moved with maddening slowness—two-fifteen, two-thirty, a quarter to three—and he failed to arrive, she began to get anxious and jumpy.

As she stood staring blindly out into the wet, windswept square, watching the raindrops run down the windowpane like tears, she saw the ghost of his face blurry in the glass and felt a queer foreboding.

Oh, dear God, suppose something had happened to him? The panicky thought made her heart begin to race uncomfortably fast.

Don’t be a fool, she chided herself. Of course nothing had happened to him. No doubt he’d just been held up. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he phoned? It would have only taken a moment to reassure her.

After waiting until three-thirty without hearing from him she called his mobile, only to find it was switched off. In desperation she tried his flat at Denver Court, but it rang hollow and empty, until the answering machine picked up her call.

By the time five o’clock arrived, convinced that her worst fears had been realised, she was a mass of jangling nerves. She was wondering agitatedly whom she could contact, when she saw his car pull up outside. The rush of relief was so great that it made her feel giddy and light-headed.

He had his own key by now, and she stood, her knees trembling so much they would hardly support her, while he crossed the streaming pavement and let himself in. She wanted to run to him, but she could neither move nor speak.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner.’ As he spoke he took off his coat and hung it up.

When he turned she noticed some angry-looking marks on his face, as though a cat had raked its claws down his cheek.

‘What have you done to your face?’

‘It’s just a scratch,’ he said dismissively.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she remarked, ‘I wondered what had happened to you.’

‘I was unavoidably detained.’

She waited for some kind of explanation, but he said nothing further.

After so much anxiety, his casual dismissal of the subject caught her on the raw.

Seeing her mouth tighten, he said, ‘We can still go to the gallery this evening.’

‘It’s not that,’ she assured him stiffly. ‘I was worried to death about you. I just wish you’d given me a ring.’

‘I’m afraid my mobile went on the blink.’

The obvious excuse did nothing to help matters.

‘Forgive me?’ Seeing her set face, he smiled. ‘Oh, dear, obviously not.’

His eyes fixed on her mouth, he bent his head to kiss her.

She moved back a step.

He sighed. ‘And here I’ve been, waiting all day to kiss you. Waiting all day just to touch you, to take you to bed and make love to you.’

Angry with him for his cavalier attitude, she looked at him stonily.

‘In that case, I’ll have to resort to a spot of friendly persuasion.’

Catching the lapels of her jacket, he pulled her towards him. Then, one hand beneath her chin, he lifted her face to meet his kiss.

It wasn’t until his lips touched hers that she realised just how urgent was her need to have him kiss her. Just how much she needed to be reassured that he was really here, to be with her.

But, unwilling to let him know it, she tried her utmost to hide how she felt. Though she badly wanted to, she refused to put her arms round his neck, refused to melt against him as she normally did.

Even so, they were standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body, the ripple of his muscles, the firmness of his flesh.

His hand slid up and down her spine in a restless movement that told her he didn’t like restraining himself, but was doing it anyway while he waited for some sign that he was forgiven.

After a time, when none was forthcoming, he lifted his mouth enough to murmur huskily, ‘Are you persuaded yet?’

Her anger having drained away, she answered, ‘Not yet; keep trying.’

His lips curved into a smile before his arms closed around her and he kissed her again.

Unable to resist him any longer, she reached up slowly, her fingertips tenderly tracing the scratches, before her palm cupped the hard planes of his cheek.

She heard his indrawn breath before he covered her hand with his own and, carrying it to his lips, kissed the palm.

Her whole being melted with love for him, and she wondered, how on earth had she managed to live before she met him?

When she tugged her hand free he frowned, a frown that changed to a glint of satisfaction as her fingers began to undo his shirt buttons.

It was only later that she realised she ought to have pressed him for an explanation first, but how could she, when so many times she had failed to give him one?

His need urgent, he swept her up in his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. When he had swiftly undressed her and lifted her onto the bed, he stripped off his own clothes.

Though she had seen him naked many times, she caught her breath yet again. He was a magnificent male animal, and she was his chosen mate. It was as wonderfully simple, as down to earth, as that.

Mostly he was a slow, skilful lover who took his time and enjoyed pleasuring her, building up the intensity until often she was gasping and writhing, hardly able to bear all the exquisite sensations he was engendering.

But now he wasted no time on foreplay, and trembling enough to rouse him even more, she accepted his weight eagerly.

She could hear his quickened breathing, feel the thump of his heart, and knowing she had caused it gave her pleasure.

Briefly she was pliant beneath him, waiting. Then she was taut as a drawn bow string as he drove hard and fast, carrying them both to a shattering climax.

She experienced a complete losing of self, then a gradual gathering back as they lay in an erotic tangle of limbs, both breathing as if they’d just run a race.

After a while he lifted himself away and, leaning over her, brushed a loose tendril of silky blonde hair away from her flushed cheek.

‘All right?’ His expression held a mixture of concern and tenderness.

‘Of course,’ she assured him. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘Well, I wasn’t very gentle.’

His words made her think, made her suddenly appreciate that normally he was careful with her. But something—that brief touch of discord perhaps?—had thrown him off balance.

‘You don’t have to treat me like porcelain,’ she told him a shade tartly. ‘I won’t break.’

Suddenly he was laughing. ‘Are you trying to tell me you prefer it hard and fast to slow and easy? Well, well, well…’

‘I’m not trying to tell you anything of the kind. I like…’ She broke off and, feeling her colour rise, tried to wriggle free.

Putting an arm either side of her, he said silkily, ‘Do go on. It’s about time you opened up and told me. What do you like? I’m always willing to oblige.’

He was in a strange mood, she thought, and accused, ‘You’re trying to embarrass me.’

‘Succeeding too, if the way you’re blushing is anything to go by,’ he said arrogantly.

Pushing herself up, she made another, more determined, attempt to escape.

He foiled her by the simple expedient of pulling her elbows from beneath her.

‘Don’t be shy. Tell me.’

‘Rafe, please…’

‘That’s my intention as soon as I know what pleases you the most…’

When she remained silent, he sighed. ‘Oh, well, if you’re determined not to tell me, I’ll just have to experiment and make my own judgement…’

‘Not now.’ She tried once more to sit up.

Pushing her gently back, he said, ‘Now.’

Secure in the knowledge that all hunger was sated, she said, ‘You’ll be wasting your time.’

‘I don’t think so.’

She quivered like a plucked string under his hands as he effortlessly re-aroused her desire. Soon she was spinning in some crazy world of sublime sensations while his every touch, his seeking mouth and tongue added more…

When finally she lay limp and emotionally drained, he gathered her close and kissed her. ‘Sleep now.’

After a short time she awoke refreshed to find he was up and dressed.

‘If we have a quick meal at the Xanadu we’ve still got time to go to the gallery.’

‘We don’t have to go.’

‘I know you want to.’ Bending down to kiss her, he added, ‘And I don’t want you to miss out on anything that gives you pleasure.’

As she showered and dressed, she thought—as she’d thought before and was to think many times in the coming weeks—how lucky she was to have Rafe. With a quiet but radiant happiness, she found herself daring to anticipate the day when he would tell her he loved her and ask her to be his wife.

Then, one golden evening in late September, a woman arrived at the clinic asking to speak to Madeleine on a matter of some urgency.

Presuming it was business, she agreed, and when a tall, good-looking brunette was shown in, she held out her hand with a friendly smile. ‘Hello…I’m Madeleine Knight.’

The expression in her dark eyes unmistakably hostile, the newcomer, beautifully dressed and thin to the point of gauntness, ignored the proffered hand. ‘And I’m Fiona Charn, Rafe’s fiancée…’

Sitting down in the visitor’s chair, she crossed slim, silkclad legs. ‘To put it bluntly, I gather that while I’ve been away this last time, he’s been bedding you…’

Watching the hot colour pour into Madeleine’s cheeks, Fiona added, ‘But I’m wearing his ring.’ She flashed a large, square-cut emerald.

Somehow Madeleine gathered herself enough to say jerkily, ‘I had no idea he had a fiancée.’

‘Oh, I don’t blame you in particular. Rafe’s always been a red-blooded man, and if it hadn’t been you it would have been some other woman. He’s extremely attractive to the opposite sex. Women throw themselves at him, so in a way one can’t wonder that he takes advantage…

‘But now I’m home it has to stop. Rafe’s mine.’

Her voice sounding thin and tight, Madeleine said, ‘If he’s that kind of man I’m surprised you still want him.’

‘Oh, I want him all right, so if you were thinking of suggesting that I set him free, forget it…For one thing he doesn’t want out, and for another, we have a bargain…’

‘A bargain?’ Madeleine echoed.

‘When it became clear that I was to be an only child, Daddy was bitterly disappointed. He held the old-fashioned belief that no mere woman could be expected to run a business empire successfully. Then Rafe came to live with us, and it was like a dream come true. The son he’d always wanted.

‘Daddy was a wealthy man, but most of his money was tied up in the business and, to give him his due, he was concerned about my future.’ Fiona paused, tossing her silken hair over her shoulder.

‘After his first heart attack, he talked things over with Rafe and agreed to leave Charn Industries to him lock, stock and barrel if he would marry me and take care of me…’

Yes, Madeleine remembered being told that Rafe had inherited the Charn empire from his godfather.

‘Rafe and I had been lovers for some time, so he was quite happy to make it legal. We’d have been married by now and there wouldn’t have been a problem if I hadn’t been diagnosed with a rare blood disorder. I’ve had to spend long periods in a private clinic undergoing treatment, which meant Rafe was left alone, and, as I say, he’s a red-blooded man who needs a woman. Any woman.’

Her voice brittle, Fiona went on, ‘Then I discovered I was pregnant, which made this last treatment more prolonged and complicated, and in the end I lost the baby…’

Shocked and horrified to think that she and Rafe had been lovers while his fiancée went through such an ordeal, Madeleine stood rooted to the spot, staring at her.

‘But now I’m back home for good, and we’ll be getting married fairly soon. I don’t intend to let him stray, so I suggest you find yourself another man, preferably one that doesn’t belong to some other woman.’

Getting to her feet, Fiona stalked out without a backward glance, leaving Madeleine devastated, shattered, her insides fractured into tiny pieces like a car’s windscreen smashed with a hammer.

She was still standing staring blindly into space when Eve came in carrying the next patient’s notes. ‘Dear God!’ she exclaimed, after a glance at her friend’s face. ‘You’re as white as a sheet. What on earth’s wrong?’

Madeleine focused with difficulty, and her voice impeded, said, ‘Fiona Charn, the woman who just went out, is Rafe’s fiancée.’

‘What?’

‘She’s Rafe’s fiancée,’ Madeleine repeated.

Seeing her sway, and afraid she was going to faint, Eve pushed her into a chair.

‘You’re sure? You haven’t got the wrong end of the stick or anything?’

‘She was wearing his ring.’

‘No! It can’t be right; he loves you…I felt sure he did.’ Eve was angry and indignant on her behalf. ‘But if he’s that kind of man, perhaps you’re better off without him…’

She gave her friend a quick hug and, seeing the blankness of shock still on Madeleine’s face, said, ‘Look, why don’t you go home? I’ll tell Mrs Bond you’re ill and get someone to fill in for you.’

‘No…I’ll be all right. I’d rather keep working. Just give me a few minutes.’

When Madeleine went home that evening, Eve insisted on going with her. ‘Noel might well be out, and I don’t think you should be alone,’ she said soberly.

But Noel, who was just back from the Middle East and currently sleeping on Madeleine’s bed-settee, was at home.

When he heard the news he was sympathetic, even angrier than his sister, and a great deal more vocal. ‘I’d like to break the bastard’s neck,’ was one of his more restrained comments.

But as Madeleine pointed out bleakly, though Rafe had treated the woman who was to be his future wife with a callous disregard that was unforgivable, he had told her no lies. Promised her nothing.

He had never said he was free, never said he loved her or asked for her love. She had given it freely, and foolishly perhaps, presumed he was free, presumed he cared about her.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. But perhaps, after what had happened to Colin and her mother, she didn’t deserve to be happy. Perhaps it was poetic justice that Rafe hadn’t loved her, any more than she had loved Colin…Perhaps this was what she deserved…

‘Don’t make excuses for him,’ Noel broke into her thoughts. ‘He’s just been using you…I take it you won’t be joining him in Paris?’

‘No!’ she said determinedly.

Rafe was in the French capital on business, and he had made all the arrangements for Madeleine to join him for a long weekend. It was a romantic trip she had been greatly looking forward to—staying on the Champs-Elysées, dining on the Bateaux Mouches, walking hand in hand down the Rue de Rivoli…

But now everything had changed.

‘When he gets back,’ Noel went on, ‘face up to the swine and tell him what you think of him.’

‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

How could she let Rafe see how heartbroken she was, how utterly devastated? It would be humiliating, mortifying. Somehow she had to walk away with at least her selfrespect intact.

Guessing what was in her mind, Eve approved her decision. ‘It might be best to let him think you don’t care, that it doesn’t mean a thing to you. At least that way you won’t be just another scalp dangling from his belt…’

‘So how are you going to get out of this Paris trip without letting him suspect the truth?’ Noel asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Madeleine said helplessly.

After the three of them had talked it over for a while, Eve exclaimed, ‘I’ve got it! Send the brute a ‘Dear John’ email. Tell him you’ve met someone new and you’re finishing with him.’

‘I don’t think that would work,’ Madeleine demurred. ‘He’s only been in Paris two days—there hasn’t been time for me to have met anyone else.’

‘In that case make it someone you already know,’ Eve said thoughtfully.

Madeleine shrugged. ‘But I don’t know anyone I could begin to pretend was a new lover…’

‘What about me?’ Noel asked. When Madeleine stared at him blankly, he said, ‘Don’t look at me like that, or you’ll seriously damage my ego. Aren’t I tanned and handsome, personable enough to play the part of your lover?’

‘Of course, but—’

‘Then all you have to do is tell the lowdown skunk that I’m the man you really care about. Go on to say that I’ve been away working, and now I’m back he’s redundant, so to speak. That would do the trick, don’t you think?’

‘It might,’ Madeleine admitted. ‘He once saw a snapshot of you and wanted to know who it was. When I told him, he asked if you were an ex-lover. I said no, a friend.’

‘That’s fine, then. You wouldn’t have been likely to admit to your current lover that I was more than just a friend, would you?

‘Right…’ He produced his laptop. ‘Get cracking, and make it offhand enough to trample his masculine pride in the dust. That way you’ll never have to set eyes on him again.’

After some input from both Eve and Noel, the short email read:

Noel has returned from the Middle East sooner than

I’d expected, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you in Paris after all.

Sorry it’s a bit last-minute, but I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone else to take my place.

Thanks for all the good times.

Madeleine.

‘That should do the trick,’ Noel approved.

Eve agreed, and the email was duly sent.

It wasn’t until after supper, when Eve had gone home and Noel was settled on the bed-settee, that the full realisation of what she’d done struck her, and she gave way to the bitter unhappiness that crowded in.

Climbing into bed, she buried her face in the pillow and cried until she had no more tears left, before falling into an exhausted sleep.

Next morning when she awoke, Noel was already up, and as she tidied the bedding away and folded the settee she could hear the shower running.

Still in her night things, she was making coffee when he strolled into the kitchen with a towel knotted around his lean hips.

‘Mmm…smells good.’

Madeleine had just turned to hand him a mug when she saw a car pull up outside and a familiar figure jump out.

Filled as she was with a sudden panic, her hand trembled so much that a lot of the coffee slopped over.

‘Steady there.’ Noel took the mug from her.

White to the lips, she whispered, ‘Oh, dear God, it’s Rafe. I don’t want to see him. I can’t bear it.’

‘So don’t answer the door.’ Noel shrugged.

‘He has a key,’ she admitted miserably. Then in desperation, ‘What am I going to do?’

‘I’ll soon send him packing…No, better still…Come on, kiddo, let’s give the cheating swine an Oscar-winning performance.’

Grabbing her hand, Noel hurried her into the bedroom, coming to a halt in line with the open door.

‘Put your arms round my neck and close your eyes,’ he instructed. Dropping the towel, he pulled her close and began to kiss her just as the front door opened and Rafe walked in.

Noel broke the kiss, and they both looked towards the man standing there as though the sky had fallen in on him.

Shock, and a kind of raw disbelief, showed in his face, closely followed by anger. Then the shock and anger iced over and with a razor-sharp edge to his voice he said, ‘So this is Noel…I can quite see why you didn’t want to come to Paris…’

Tossing the key he was holding onto the coffee-table, he added, ‘We’ll meet again, Madeleine, one day. Mark my words…’ and, turning on his heel, walked out.

‘That’s put paid to the swine,’ Noel remarked with satisfaction, and, using one hand to cover Madeleine’s eyes, stooped to grab the towel.

‘Now, then, if you promise to keep your eyes shut while I make myself decent, I’ll allow you to pour me another mug of coffee…’

Though she kept them shut, there was no real need to—they were blinded by tears…