All the Way

Chapter Nine

Gavin studied her profile in the flicker of headlights. She leaned her head wearily against the side window and stared out into the night. Her clip loosened, and strands tumbled over her shoulder, shielding her from view. He listened to Daughtry sing about coming home, and allowed the thought he’d pushed away all evening to surface.

She hadn’t cried.

His gut twisted. Miranda Storme used to be a woman who burst into tears at Hallmark commercials. Sad songs on the radio. Old movies. Operas. She’d taught him it wasn’t weak to cry, because she’d been the strongest woman he’d known.

They’d spent most of the night waiting for the final word and helping her friends cope. When the doctor finally came in to tell them Stephen was out of danger, Elaine lost it and jumped into her husband’s arms. Andy caught her with trembling hands, obviously fighting back his own tears.

Miranda collapsed on the seat with relief and closed her eyes. A variety of emotions passed over her face, but when she re-opened her eyes, she’d been back in control.

He’d caught glimmers of that woman this past week. In moments of passion, she seemed to surrender. She yelled at him now, and laughed too loud. But tonight, she’d calmly informed him she didn’t want children, and remained tearless after an emotionally draining evening.

Gavin let out a humorless laugh.

Karma was a bitch.

He pulled in the lot and turned to her. He waited for a response, but her words were like a polite stranger’s. “Would you like to come up?”

He needed to finish this. Dig deeper and find out if there was any way to save their relationship. “Sure. Maybe we can have some of that designer tea you drink.”

She looked at him strangely, as if trying to read his thoughts, then rummaged through her purse for her keys. They walked inside and flicked on the lights. “How about some Sleepytime?” she called from the kitchen.

He paused by the window. “You actually have a tea called Sleepytime?”

“Yep.”

“Sure, what the hell. Tea always made me nervous. It reminds me of a witches brew. You never know what you’re really drinking.”

Her laughter floated through the room. “You’re a coffee man at heart. Coffee drinkers never get along with tea drinkers.”

He pulled back the chic linen curtains and studied the rows of blinking lights outlining the bridge. The Hudson River snaked along in the background and gleamed silver in the moonlight. Stars streaked a blue-black sky and mocked his sudden gloomy thoughts. He wondered if she drank cappuccino anymore. They’d spent many nights in small cafes, chairs pulled close together, talking and laughing as they sipped from an array of espresso and cafe latte.

Now she drank tea.

Gavin shook his head in disgust. He was acting ridiculous. His mood had nothing to do with her drinking tea. The root of his worry lay in the knowledge she’d never be able to surrender her entire self, because she’d lost the ability to trust. At least with him. Maybe the final wall would never be broken.

“Tea’s ready.”

Her silky voice ruffled his nerve endings. The familiar scent of strawberry and cream teased his nostrils, and he knew that in her own way, she’d achieved the ultimate revenge. Even if he walked away, she’d ruined him for any other woman. Gavin fought the rage of emotions that shook through his body and tried to keep his voice even. “Thanks. I’ll be right in.”

“What’s the matter?”

He turned from the window. Slowly, he reached out and ran one finger down her cheek, traced the lush curve of her lower lip, pressed his thumb into the thundering pulse point at the base of her neck.

“You didn’t cry.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to have this discussion about children again.”

He shook his head. “I admit you surprised me, and yes, I’m upset. But it’s more than that, Miranda. You didn’t shed one tear the entire evening. When the doctor told us Stephen would be okay, I saw your face. You wanted to cry—hell, you needed to cry—but you couldn’t. Same thing after Pagliacci. You practically shook with the need to let go. You’ve shut down your emotions to such an extent that I don’t know what to do anymore to break through.”

She stepped back, looking like a trapped wild animal. “So I didn’t cry. I still feel things. I’m not a cold human being who can’t experience emotions. There are many people who don’t cry.”

“Baby, you know what I’m talking about,” he said softly. “You hold back. It’s as if something else happened to you. Something you won’t share.”

She sucked in her breath. Closed her eyes. Clenched her fists and trembled.

The words came out in a rush. “There was a baby, Gavin. Our baby.”

…

Miranda spoke the words and a bone-deep relief rushed through her body. How many times had she dreamed about telling him? Wished he’d hold her in his arms and they could mourn the loss together? She tried to protect him from the truth since it was too late, but realized now she owed him everything. He had a right to know what happened after he left. The lock on her carefully cultivated control crashed open and left her with a writhing, snarling monster mess.

He stiffened. Slowly turned around. Shock widened his eyes and he staggered over to the couch to grasp the edge. “What did you say?” he whispered.

The naked vulnerability and wild hope on his face sliced at her flesh like knives. “I never wanted you to know,” she whispered. “Not when it was too late.”

His olive skin turned bone white as he processed her response. “Tell me. Everything.”

Miranda gave a jerky nod. Her skin grew clammy and cold, and her stomach churned. Maybe he’d finally understand why she’d never be the woman he walked away from.

She recited the story with no emotion, as if relaying someone else’s experience. “After you left me, I got sick. I went to the doctor and he told me I was pregnant.”

“You were on the pill.”

“Yes, but remember when I got food poisoning on those oysters? I threw up for almost three days. I never thought I wouldn’t be protected, just kept continuing to take my pill. But I was stupid, so stupid, and I paid for that mistake.”

“Did you plan on telling me?”

She lifted her chin. “No. That was the day I got your email.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Obviously, you weren’t ready to be a daddy, let alone have a committed relationship. I decided to keep the baby and do it myself.”

He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, as if trying to wake up from a bad dream. “What happened to the baby, Miranda?”

She finished the story dry-eyed. “I kept my pregnancy a secret and planned. I figured I’d work mostly from home and we’d be fine.”

He choked and murmured something under his breath but she pushed on.

“I was twelve weeks when I miscarried. I was waiting to get to that mark, you see, because all the books say you have the biggest chance of miscarriage within the first twelve weeks. I almost made it. But I started bleeding heavily in the middle of the night, and I didn’t know what to do. I called 911 and they rushed me to the hospital. I lost the baby a few hours later.”

She stared sightlessly past him, seeing the pale green hospital walls, the scurry of nurses back and forth, the soft voice of the therapist lecturing her about grief and postpartum. She remembered leaving without her baby. Without anything but a cold, empty space she knew would never be filled again.

The silence pulsed with unspoken demons and broken promises. “Now you know why I don’t want children. I never want that type of grief again. If you want to punish me for my lack of bravery, go ahead. But you’re not the one who had to do it all alone.”

His shattered expression punched through her chest and squeezed her heart. He moved toward her and then she was in his arms. His grip was so tight it became almost painful, but she hung on to his warmth in a desperate attempt to save the last of her soul. They clung to one another for endless minutes, and for the first time, some of the aching loneliness seeped away in his embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” He kissed her temple, stroked her hair, rocking her gently. “I didn’t know. Jesus, please forgive me, I didn’t know.”

She let him hold her until the last of the anger dissipated. He was finally here, back in her arms. All of those fantasies night after night of him coming back and stating he made a terrible mistake finally came true.

When he released her, tear tracks streaked his cheeks. She wiped them away with her fingers, but when he looked into her eyes, a cold, hard ball of lead settled in the pit of her stomach. She glimpsed grief. Pain. Regret.

The worst was the grim resolution on his face.

“I understand now,” he said.

Panic nipped at her and she suddenly realized her confession had broken something fragile between them.

“No wonder you’ve changed. I left you all alone to deal with a baby, and treated you like someone disposable.” A choking sound came from his throat. “All this time I thought you were too afraid to open yourself up. But how could you ever trust me again? I abandoned you.”

She stepped toward him. “No, Gavin, it’s not like that.” Self-disgust curled his sensual lips. She watched as her lover drifted further away, caught up in a raw guilt she didn’t know how to heal. “Please listen to me. I don’t blame you anymore. It was my choice not to track you down. My choice to keep the baby and do it alone. I never gave you an opportunity to take any action, and that’s not your fault.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t give you a chance to tell me. I only cared about myself. My dreams. I walked away from something good and pure. I thought I could win you back. Prove myself. Instead, I dredged up the past and hurt you even more. I’m so stupid.” Moisture shown in his eyes and he blinked it away. “I was sure I’d convince you to go with me. I had this fucking happy-ever-after ending in my head, where I tell you I love you, and you jump on the plane.”

He loved her. Did she believe it was enough this time? Why was the image of following him suddenly so vivid? Why did it fill her up with raw need instead of scorn? Reality twisted before her until she didn’t know her true North anymore.

A dozen responses stuck in her throat. Her feet froze to the floor.

He drew himself up to full height. Determination and resolve flickered in those aqua blue eyes. Her heart thrummed madly in her chest.

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for what I did to you. God knows, I understand why you can’t. But I love you. I will do anything you need to prove myself and make up for the past. I won’t leave you again.”

Her palms grew damp. The breath came choppy from her throat. “You only have a few weeks left.”

“I’ll stay.”

The words tore her flesh like bullets. She squeezed her eyes shut in pure agony. He’d stay. For her. But at what sacrifice? So he could resent her forever for not going after his real dream? For trapping him into a relationship because of his guilt over the baby? No, not like this. “I don’t want you to stay,” she forced out.

“Then I’ll take you with me. We’ll work it out. All you have to do is take a leap of faith. I swear to God, Miranda, I’ll never give you another reason to distrust me again.”

Silence fell. He waited for her answer and she clenched her fingers into fists. She was close. So close to jumping in his arms and taking another chance. They’d make the relationship work somehow. He wouldn’t hurt her again. Wouldn’t leave her behind.

Her mother left for the bottle.

Gavin left for his career.

Eventually, didn’t everyone leave her behind? And what type of life could they possibly have together? Days spent alone in some strange hotel overseas. Waiting for him to get home and entertain her. Waiting for the day he realized it wasn’t going to work and left her again.

No. She wasn’t ready to trust him with her soul.

Maybe she’d never be able to get there again.

Her lack of response gave him the answer. He pushed his hands through his hair and bowed his head. “You’re never going to trust me again, are you?”

Her eyes remained mercilessly dry, though the tears wept for release. “I’m so sorry, Gavin. I can’t do this.”

Emotion ravaged his face. Slowly, he nodded and fumbled for the door. “I’ll let you go. I can’t fight for both of us, not if you don’t want to try. And I’m sorry, too. For everything.”

He shut the door behind him.

Miranda stood alone in the living room, in silence. Alone. She slumped down to the ground as her muscles lost all their function and buried her face in her hands. For the first time in years, she let herself feel the storm of emotions wreck her. This time, she surrendered. She cried nonstop—for herself, for Gavin, and for what could have been.

…

The knock on the door barely registered, so she ignored it. Miranda snuggled under her blanket and stared sightlessly at the television. Since most of the soap operas had been canceled, her choices were weepy Lifetime movies or talk shows. A reality star celebrity chirpily chatted about the latest gossip so she decided to take a nap. Again.

The pounding grew louder. She groaned and raised her head. “Go away!”

“Miranda, open the door. Now.”

She cursed under her breath, yanked the blanket away, and stumbled to the door. “I’m sick, Andy. You shouldn’t come in.”

“Open the door.”

She released the chain and let him in. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her appearance. She wondered briefly how bad it had gotten. Pretty bad, if the look on his face was any indication. Miranda ignored it and climbed back to her new home on the couch.

“What the hell is going on? You won’t answer your cell, you haven’t been to work, and you look like something that crawled out of the swamp.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Ah, geez, and you smell.” He glanced around the cluttered apartment, where the remote lay amidst empty bags of potato chips, half eaten Ben & Jerry’s ice cream pints, and an array of wine bottles. “Gross, you’ve been on the break-up diet. What happened with Gavin? I can’t believe you didn’t call me.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “I told him the truth. And he did the honorable thing, of course. He left me. Again.”

Andy crinkled his brow. “Back up. You’re gonna have to fill me in.”

Odd, now the secret she’d lived with for so long felt natural to share. “Three years ago, after he left me, I found out I was pregnant.”

“Holy shit.” He sat down on the edge of the chair. “Tell me everything.”

She did. The story spilled out, and another scab formed over the wound. Funny, she’d never thought sharing her hurt could help her heal, but she felt freer than ever before. He listened, sometimes wincing, but completely supportive and open.

“What was Gavin’s reaction?” he finally asked.

“He wanted another chance. Asked me to try and trust him again. Said he’d never leave. But I know the truth, Andy. I’ll be left behind. I always am.”

Andy cocked his head. “How do you know?”

She peered at him from under the blanket. “I just know. I’m not following him to Europe, and I won’t turn him into a martyr. He’d eventually end up hating me and leaving anyway.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a mess. We’re a mess. First I wanted nothing to do with him. Then I thought if we had sex, I’d get him out of my system. Then I realized I’m still in love with him.”

“Nothing like a woman who knows her own mind.”

She glowered. “I need to move forward with my life. Live on my own terms and leave the past behind.”

“Huh, seems to me you’re doing the opposite. Running away from your true feelings because you’re too afraid. Gavin loves you and wants to stay. You’re not letting him choose at all. You already set him up to leave you again and break your heart. Maybe it’s time you took a good look at what you really want, and then have enough guts to go after it.”

What did she want? How had her motives gotten so screwed up? First, she’d just wanted him to leave her alone. Then she craved revenge. Moved on to sex. And now she wanted…

Everything.

Her friend’s words stirred up all the pain like a witch’s brew gone bad. No, this was for the best. Every time she tried to break through the barrier, the knowledge he’d never tried to contact her burned in her gut.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Andy. I’m tired.”

He let out a frustrated breath and glared. “That’s because you’re sleeping twenty hours a day. Look, I’ll cover you for one more. Then your ass better be back to work writing a column. Got it?”

“Sure. How’s Stephen? I called Elaine before and she said everything was fine. Just the stitches and a few bruises.”

“Yeah, the little devil is back to his normal mischief. The doctor said get used to the ER, since the kid almost crawled out of the hospital bed to climb the dresser to get to the balloons.”

She smiled. “I’ll come visit this weekend.”

“Only if you shower first.”

“Deal.”

He shook his head and left. The evening dragged by, and she got caught up in old movies. She settled on The Joker’s Wild, enjoying Sinatra’s character and thinking about Gavin’s father. Soon, she was wrapped up in the push and pull of their relationship, building toward the big ending where Frank crooned the classic, All The Way, and lost the girl. Unbelievably, tears pricked her lids, threatening to escape. If only love was easy, where a song or a love letter made things magically—

Letters.

She sat up and flung back the blanket. Heart slamming against her chest, she walked into the kitchen and removed the stack of letters from the drawer.

She pulled out the envelopes and her fingers trembled. One by one, she removed the letters and read every word, smoothing out the crinkled paper, trapped in the world Gavin inhabited during those years apart. Lines of verse blurred into one another.

A bright, orange moon hangs over the skyline in Florence, and I’m thinking of you…

Calcutta has shown me another side to myself. I see the poverty in the streets, the begging for food, the smell of death. Yet, I also see joy in the children who have nothing, and never question their place in this world. I wonder, my love, if I ever really knew what was important. If perhaps my journeys have led me here…

I turned a street corner in Paris and caught your scent, but when I looked for you, there was only an empty roadway…

Why can’t I get rid of this hole in my gut? I finally got everything I ever wanted, and now I realize how empty it is without you…without my family. Have I made the biggest mistake of my life? Is it too late for me? How could I have been so wrong about the only goal I ever had…

With trembling hands, Miranda laid the letters on the table. The postmarks and smeared ink reflected a journey of the man she thought she knew. If she fought past the crippling fear of being hurt, could they have a chance at something precious? The future was uncertain. He may go back to his career and leave her behind again. They weren’t the same people any longer—their younger, more innocent selves. She’d grown up, and now took what she wanted. She had the rare opportunity to close out the past on her terms.

Wasn’t it time to face her fears?

In order to find out, she needed to re-open a door she swore she’d never unlock.

When she fell in love with Gavin, it was the first time she ever opened herself up to the idea of love. Her gamble only dragged her back to her past, where everyone important in her life walked away. She’d sworn to never be hurt like that again. These past few weeks opened her up in a new way, and pushed her to grow. Gavin demanded. Every physical reaction, every laugh, every smile. She began to like the person she was with him: strong, confident, but open. Open to life, love, hurt. It was a huge risk.

Could she finally put the past aside and be the woman she wanted to be?

Miranda sat up. God, she was so tired of being afraid. Tired of being a mere shadow of the woman who clamored out from her inner being and longed to be set free. She’s been brave enough to pick up the pieces and create a career she loved. Didn’t she deserve to give her whole heart and damn the consequences?

She needed to rediscover her strength and take a chance on the future. With the man she loved and had never been able to forget.

She had nothing more to lose.

…

Gavin snapped back the shot of tequila and barely felt the sting. Good, maybe he’d finally reach a level of numbness. The past two nights had been like descending into Dante’s Inferno, and heaven seemed an impossible climb up. Not that he deserved it. Hell was his new home now.

The drama of his thoughts wrung a laugh from his lips. His cell beeped again, and he glanced at the emergency text from his brother. Where the fuck r u?

He punched out his response. Sick. Cover fOr me.

The phone vibrated. Last time. Mom and pop worried.

Gavin sat back and refilled his glass. Being away from the restaurant for two nights in a row was criminal, and if Brando had pulled this crap he’d kill him. He’d tried to get ready, but the idea of facing his family with guilt eating his insides proved too much to handle. One more night of self-pity and drunkenness. One more night of incredible pain and self-recriminations. Then he’d get himself together.

He ignored the doorbell and figured the person would go away. When the banging became insistent, he muttered a curse and flung open the door.

Miranda.

He drank in her figure with a greediness he despised. Even after destroying her, he never seemed to get enough—his hunger to immerse himself in her fire and light pulsed through him. Yet, he managed to back away and keep his distance. If she’d come to release more rage, he’d take it.

“Hello, Gavin.”

Her voice curled like smoke and singed. His gaze swept over the short lime green raincoat that left her legs bare. Mist shimmered around her hair from the rain like an angel’s halo gone naughty. Her crimson lips pursed as she waited him out. Her coat was cinched tight, but no fabric marred the swell of her breasts or neck. Dewy peach skin tempted him to take a bite, but instead he nodded and let her in.

Gavin cursed as he sprung to attention and yanked on his sweatpants. Down boy. The luscious curve of her buttocks swung as she entered his house and curiously gazed around. He hadn’t cleaned for company, and realized it looked like a bachelor pad gone wild. Empty beer bottles and junk food bags filled the surfaces. The sixty-inch television reflected a football game with the sound muted. A stadium blanket for the NY Giants lay over the leather couch, and remnants from a pizza delivery still wafted in the air. Yep. Way to impress the girl of his dreams. Not that it mattered anymore.

“I wanted to talk to you. About what we spoke about the other night.”

His gut clenched, but he made sure to look open for conversation. Gavin didn’t know if he could take anymore. The pain reflected on her face the night she confessed the truth would haunt him forever. He’d caused her misery from his selfishness, and no act could possibly redeem him. Her complete rejection humbled him. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “Of course. I’m willing to talk about anything you need. I just didn’t want to cause you any more distress.”

One red brow arched at his polite tone. “I think you left before I could properly tell you how I feel.”

He winced but readied himself for the torment. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“I want you.”

Every muscle tightened. Her words roared in his ears like a flight gone turbulent. Knowing he walked the edge of insanity, he stared at her. “What?”

“When I first found out I was pregnant, of course I blamed you. You left me. But you had nothing to do with me losing the baby, and I never gave you the choice to come home. Maybe we would’ve made it, maybe not. We’ll never know. I’m tired of reliving the past, Gavin. I’ve never felt more alive since you came back into my life, and I’m willing to see if we can build something together. Something solid and new and real. I’m ready to take a gamble on us.”

He looked at the woman in front of him and realized she offered him the whole fantasy. All of her, body and soul, ready for surrender. Gavin gave up his last shred of hope and realized he needed to release her. Somehow he’d convinced her to take a chance, but it was too late. Too late for them.

He bore down. “Before you told me your true feelings, I would’ve fallen to my knees in gratitude. Now I realize how much more you deserve. How could you ever trust me again? Open yourself up enough to have the relationship we both need?”

“I can try.”

“Bullshit.” He knew then that he was fighting for both of them. If she couldn’t save herself from a lifetime of regret, than he’d do it for her. “I’ll never be enough,” he ground out. “I’ll always be the man who left you at the most vulnerable time in your life. Can you live like that? Or do you want me to be slowly tortured, constantly waiting for the old wounds to flare up? Wait for you to accuse me of leaving you behind?”

He prepared himself for tears and an evening dedicated to trying to forget the anguish.

“Let me tell you what I want.” She drew in a ragged breath as if afraid to take the final plunge. He waited for her retreat, but she lifted that stubborn chin and met his gaze all the way. “I want you. I want you to give us another chance. I want to start fresh—tonight.”

“Miranda—”

“I’ve been afraid, but I’m tired of it. I’ve always belonged to you. You claimed me years ago, Gavin. I just haven’t been able to admit it. So let’s finish this tonight. Take me now and show me.”

He uttered a vicious curse as his skin tightened and burned with the frantic need to possess her. “I won’t let you go again,” he warned. “If you try to leave me, I’ll find you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He waited a beat. Then closed the distance, yanking her into his arms and crashing his mouth upon hers.

The kiss was wild and hot, a primitive act of a man claiming his woman, and allowed her no retreat as his tongue plundered her mouth in a punishing pleasure. The scent of ripened strawberries and rich vanilla filled his head, and he tangled his fingers in the glorious weight of her hair and tugged, giving him better access. He stroked, possessed, deflowered. A moan purred from her lips but he swallowed it whole and didn’t up the bruising pressure of the kiss. When he finally ripped his mouth from hers, she panted, her eyes wide and half drugged.

She took a step back and reached for her belt. Slowly untied the sash. And let the coat drop.

The room spun like a crazed Tilt-a-Whirl ride.

She stood before him, gloriously naked. Not a scrappy piece of lace or underwire marred the perfection of smooth, soft curves and the triangle of hair between her thighs. Clad in black leather heels, she threw her shoulders back and let him drink her fill. The last of his will melted away and left him a broken shell. Once he touched her, he’d never let her leave him. He’d bind her to him with his body and his mind, exorcise every last demon and give her his last breath if she stayed. Gavin shook and clenched his fists.

She reached for his pants to push them down, but he caught her hands. “My way this time,” he commanded. Her nipples peaked at his words, and the musky scent of her arousal drifted to his nostrils. Keeping himself a few inches away from her, he trailed a finger down the valley of her breasts, swiping the tight nipples and eliciting a throaty gasp. He traced the curve of her hip, the crease of her pelvis, the center of her buttocks. Her muscles clenched, but she kept still under his exploration.

“I won’t let you hide anything from me tonight, Miranda.” He dipped his head and lashed her nipple with his tongue, tugging gently until she arched beneath him. “I’m going to touch and kiss every inch of you. And you’ll have to ask me for everything you want.”

She shuddered on cue, and he smiled. Good. She was as turned on by that idea as he was. He lifted her and strode toward the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. Gavin stripped off his T-shirt and sweats and knelt on the bed.

He clasped each of her ankles and pulled her legs wide apart. Those sexy stiletto heels only drove him on, intent on wringing as much pleasure from her body that she could take. As if his face reflected his intentions, she murmured his name in question.

Gavin grinned. “I can’t wait to make you come.”

Then he dipped his head between her thighs.

Drunk on the essence and taste of her, he teased the hardened bud and gently licked her throbbing center. She bucked and begged beneath his, but he pinned her tightly to the bed and never increased the pace. Within minutes, she screamed as the orgasm took hold. Fierce satisfaction ripped through him at her open, raw response, and he held her as she convulsed for a long moment. As she floated back down, he nipped the tender flesh and slid back up her body. Her pupils dilated and she lay limp beneath him.

He gave a low chuckle. “I love watching you come apart. Let’s do it again.”

Wariness skated over features. “Um, Gavin, I don’t think—”

“I do.” This time, he sucked on her nipples as his fingers explored her wet channel, rubbing his thumb in tight circles until she climbed back up. Soon, she stiffened beneath him, her nails digging viciously into his shoulders.

“Please.”

He thrust two fingers deep inside and pumped. “Please what?”

“Please take me. Please come inside me now, I can’t take anymore.”

His penis was so hard it hurt, so he quickly removed his fingers and reached for the condom in his bedside drawer. One rip and he sheathed himself, pausing before her entrance. “Look at me.”

She obediently opened her eyes.

“Say the words.”

Miranda shuddered but didn’t break her gaze. “I want you.”

He plunged and she took all of him. Her muscles squeezed his length as he pushed her knees up so he could bury himself deep. The silky, tight feel of her ripped a curse from his lips, and he prayed for control. As he set the pace, he watched her face.

Pleasure. Joy. Need.

He grasped her wrists and held them over her head. Her muscles clenched as she neared the edge, and he felt as if they poised upon the path of no return—trapped partly in the past, part present, the demons threatened and suddenly she fought the final fall.

Raw fear gleamed within emerald depths.

But this time he wouldn’t let her hide.

“I love you, Miranda.”

His voice echoed in the room and he tightened his grip as he thrust one final time.

She broke apart beneath him, sobbing his name, and he let himself explode. Shock waves rippled his body as the orgasm took hold. He gave it all to her, gave her everything he had and prayed he’d be enough. And as he settled back down and clasped her in his arms, he brushed against wetness.

Slowly, he tipped her chin up.

Tears streamed helplessly down her cheeks. “I love you, Gavin. I love you.”

…

Hours later, they snuck naked from the bedroom and into the kitchen. The cool tiles on her bare feet shot goose bumps over her body. “I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.” She pulled open cabinet after cabinet and found nothing. Her stomach growled loudly.

“I know. Why don’t they have 24-hour pizza delivery, dammit? Hang on.” Her lover wrestled the box from the upper cabinet. The gleam of the moonlight struck his ass, and she leaned back against the counter tops. Damn, the man had a fine package. In front and back.

He set the box in front of her with a frown. “We’re in trouble. There’s only enough for one bowl.”

“I called it first.” She grabbed, but he was always faster than her. With lightning speed, he plucked it safely back in his grasp. “Hey, no fair!”

He clucked his tongue. “I did all the work. I need more protein.”

She snorted. “This is all empty carbs and sugar. But if we’re going on that argument, then I had more orgasms. Therefore, I need more sustenance.”

“Cheap shot. Okay, you broke up with me, technically, so I was more damaged. I should get the Cocoa Puffs.”

“Hell no! You ripped my heart apart when you walked out the door. I get the Puffs.”

They both paused at the impasse. Gavin stroked his chin. “You know, since we’re in a grown-up, committed relationship right now, we should do the honorable thing.”

“What?”

“Share.”

She cocked her head and thought about it. “Okay. I can share.”

“Me, too.”

They smiled at each other like idiots, naked at midnight in his kitchen. He took down two bowls and carefully split the treat, provided the spoons, poured milk, and they both munched on their snack. A joyful lightness streamed through her body. Sharing was the best.

“I have to get back to real food tomorrow,” she commented. “Chips and ice cream do not a diet make.”

He slurped at his milk. “Me, too. I’ve drunk beer and ate pretzels for the past three days. Brando’s gonna kill me.”

“You never went to work?”

“Nope.”

Her face softened. “Andy came knocking at my door. Told me to shower.”

Gavin laughed. “We’re a pair, huh?” They ate in silence for a while until he spoke her name. “Will you tell me about those first few months after I left?” When she winced, he reached out and took her hand. “You don’t have to if it will cause you pain. I just want to know everything. Not to punish either of us. Just to understand. Does that make sense?”

Slowly, she nodded. Funny, already when she poked at the bruise, a scab began to form and it didn’t hurt as bad. “I had really bad morning sickness. Lasted all day for the first eight weeks. I tried to lean toward Irish and German food, which are a bit blander. I seemed to do well with potatoes.”

“Were you happy about having the baby?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was always scared because I was alone, but I loved him or her already.”

“Did you call anyone to help? Your mom? Grandmother? Andy?”

The memory wafted past her and the familiar hurt panged. “No. I didn’t know Andy at the time, and my grandmother was too old to bother with my problems. She ended up passing months after the miscarriage.”

He cursed and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, baby. I hate knowing you were alone.”

“I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Gavin sucked in his breath at her admission. Pressed a tender kiss against her palm. “You’ll never be alone again.” They ate their cereal in comfortable silence, until all the chocolate milk had properly been slurped up. “Tell me about your grandmother. I want to know more about her. Did she get you into cooking?”

“Yes. We were really close, and she inspired me to be a chef. She believed in making everything by hand, and we didn’t even own a microwave. Food was an art form, and I was taught about texture, flavor, herbs. She had a palette like a master.”

“She sounds just like you.”

Miranda nodded. “When I brought my dolls in for a party, we never had just tea. We had a four-course meal.” Gavin laughed. “She had bright red hair like me and a famous temper. If I stepped out of line, I paid dearly.”

“You never talk about your parents.”

A breath shuddered from her chest. He reached over and cupped his palms over her cheeks. As if he sensed something deep shift inside of her, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You can tell me, Miranda.”

She nodded, and confessed another one of her secrets. “My mom got pregnant with me when she was a teenager. My grandmother encouraged her to have the baby and marry the father, but my dad refused and took off before I even came. He didn’t want to be married, or be tied down with a child. After my mom had me, she had a rough time with depression. She got into drugs, and spent years on the street. My grandmother raised me, and tried to get my mom help, but she didn’t want any. She disappeared, and we’ve never heard from her again.” A shrug lifted one shoulder. “I guess no one really wanted me enough.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and spoke the words against her lips. “Your grandmother wanted you and loved you.” Gavin paused. “And I want you and love you, Miranda.”

Joy shimmered in waves and crushed the last of the dark. Gavin put the bowls in the sink, wiped her mouth carefully with a napkin, and placed a kiss on her lips. She leaned into his strength and rested her head on his shoulder. This time, when he led her back to bed, their lovemaking took on a sacred tenderness that shook her soul and made her realize she’d never be the same woman again.

…

Gavin punched in the number of the code for the conference call and set up the Skype. The last thing he wanted to do was play corporate executive, but Sam insisted. The younger executive was Gavin’s right-hand man, and if Gavin succeeded, he succeeded. He was due in China soon, and the set up was key. Unfortunately, MacKenzie and Associates believed he was the only one able to target the huge electronics corporation and make their dream come true.

Dreams in the business world revolved around money. Or prestige. Or power.

Now, he’d be at the top of the food chain, amidst it all. Full partner.

So, why did the thought of leaving make him slightly ill?

The familiar pang beat through him as his colleague came over the screen.

“Tell me you’re done playing waiter and getting your ass on a plane, Gavin.”

He chuckled at the image before him. The pinstripe suit, red tie, and conservative hair cut looked the same on everyone at the firm. His hand automatically checked the length of his hair and realized he needed to get a cut. The shaggy ends looked ragged and reminded him of a surfer dude.

“My three months aren’t up, Sam. Don’t tell me you’re so intimidated you can’t take a step without me.”

His friend flashed a set of perfect white teeth. “Touché. I’m sending you some files I need you to study. Weaknesses and strengths of upper management. Some names of the lovely administrative assistants.” He waggled his brow. “Janitorial staff is pretty tight, but I found a guy who’s willing to tattle if we need leverage.”

His normal business tactics suddenly seemed…wrong. If they battled with another company, creativity for the campaign was number one. Number two was who you knew, what information you owned, and a little blackmail never hurt gaining the upper hand. Gavin shook off the wimpy inner voice causing havoc with his meeting. “Sure. I’ll look at them tonight. I need to—”

“Gavin! We got a crisis, you gotta get out here.”

He swiveled in his chair and glared at his brother. “Out, Brando. I’m on a conference call.”

“Dude, you know that new assistant chef you hired?”

“Yeah.”

“Tony found him tweaking the special behind his back. They had a fight about how to prepare it, because this guy thinks he’s a serious foodie. Tony put him in his place, but just found him changing the spices on his own. He insisted on saffron, saying it brought the fish to a higher flavor, but it’s a fucking Italian special!”

His head pounded and Gavin rubbed his temple. “Umm, okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Fine. But the dude has a black eye and he called the police to press charges against Tony.”

“Fuck. I’m coming.”

“Thought so.” Brando waved to the guy on the screen and left.

Sam cackled. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re settling brawls between chefs? You’re starting to scare me, Gavin. Come on, leave early. It’ll be like the old days. The lure of a challenge, partying at the top clubs, posh hotels. I’m setting up some free time while we’re there, for touring. I know you like that.”

The world he lusted after throughout his youth now seemed tainted and old. He should be dying to get back in the game. He always hated the restaurant industry. Late nights, hard work, low profit. Crazy chefs, hard ass critics, and nothing to show for it but a plate of good food.

Then why did it feel lately like he was finally home?

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow, Sam. I can’t leave yet.”

“Your funeral, man. See ya.”

The screen went dark.

He jumped out of the chair and shot into the kitchen. Jules, the assistant chef, held a piece of raw meat on his eye. Why the hell did he use the good ribeye instead of an ice pack? Tony ranted in Italian about betrayal and codes and honor. Brando hung on to Tony’s arm, and Pop looked on the whole episode with a confused expression on his face. Ah, crap, another nightmare. What would happen when he left?

“Jules, let’s talk. No need to bring police into our business.”

“Bullshit.” The rounding out of his consonants gave him an odd accent Gavin could never place. “I am humiliated. I try to make the food better and I get a black eye. I will be throwing him into jail.”

Tony’s face reddened. “Try it. I’ll smear your reputation all over the city. You will never work again in this town!”

Yep. Tony had been watching those damn Italian movies again and was deep into his role.

Pop recovered and looked Tony in the eye. “As Sinatra would say: ‘I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption.’ You must do it your way.”

Everyone stopped and stared at his father. Then, with a serious nod, he lapsed back into silence.

Gavin quickly grabbed Jules and walked him away, murmuring soothing phrases and swearing to fire Tony’s ass. As he spoke, he swiftly catalogued all the information he’d learned before hiring Jules. “I understand your situation. I just hope you will understand mine once the police arrive.”

The chef frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gavin sighed and lifted his hands. “You call the police. Tony goes to jail. I have no recourse but to call my lawyer. He will dig into your past and find that awful predicament you were in.”

Jules cringed. “No! You would dredge up something so painful? I had nothing to do with that girl. She was legal.”

Gavin nodded. “I know. Again, my hands are tied. It is the way the game is played, no? Lawyers are a horrible bunch.”

One beat. Two. Three.

“Forget it. I’m leaving. I want nothing to do with this restaurant.”

Gavin watched as the man untied his apron, ripped off his hat, and marched out.

His muscles sagged with relief. Another disaster averted. His father patted him on the shoulder. “Good work, son. That could have been an extremely bad scene.”

The realization socked him in the gut. His father couldn’t run this place anymore. He had no idea how to solve a crisis, other than quoting Sinatra. Brando tried but was just too young. Tony’s temper was legendary. He turned and faced his staff. “How are you going to handle these situations when I’m gone?”

The men shared a shocked look. Brando lifted his chin. “What are you talking about? I thought you decided to stay. Work with us long-term. You can’t run off when Mia Casa is just starting to turn around.”

His voice came out cold and clipped. “I can’t keep babysitting everyone. I told you up front I had twelve weeks and then I was going back. They need me.”

Tony cleared his throat. “We need you, dude. You belong here.”

His father inclined his head. “A choice must be made soon. Frank faced many in his day. We need you to seriously consider staying with us, Gavin. Promise you will at least think about the possibility.”

The words stuck in his throat. The faces in front of him reflected an open longing that tore him apart. He’d never asked for this. His intentions had always been clear, and God knows, the guilt began to choke him. “Fine. I’ll think about it. That’s all I can say for now.”

Brando stared at him for a long time. With a muttered curse, he sneered. “Don’t do us any favors, bro. We’ll be fine without you.” He turned and left the kitchen.

Gavin watched him leave with an ache in his chest he didn’t know how to deal with.