softness of her mouth. “He needs you, honey. The twins need you, too.”
She gave a small self-conscious laugh. “I couldn’t ever love Mike. I’m in love with someone else.”
Her words slammed into him and the pain in his chest returned. “Who?”
She shrugged her slim shoulders, her gaze bruised with sorrow. “It’s not important. He doesn’t know and I’ll never get a chance to tell him. He’s not the marrying kind.”
Pity enveloped him and he took a step closer. “Forget about him. The bastard is nuts if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”
She met his gaze again. “Right. I suppose I need to find a man who could fall in love with me, a man who’s not scared to give me all those things.”
Mike fit the bill perfectly, and maybe with time and exposure, she might change her mind.
Deep down in his gut, he knew it was wrong.
He’d deliberately stayed out of her life, hoping for this very thing. And now that it was within her grasp—now that she’d finally found someone safe she could spend her life with—he felt an insane jealousy take hold.
Because, selfish bastard that he was, he wanted her for himself.
You’re just like your old man.
Worse.
He didn’t need to get skunk-faced drunk before he hurt the one he loved.
He growled in disgust. Love was an insane idea started by insane people. Love didn’t exist—couldn’t exist—not in his world. “Go to bed, Harl. It’s late.”
She spun on the balls of her feet, and without a backward glance, hurried down the hallway and disappeared into the bedroom.
Gage headed into the living room, halted when he caught sight of the doll on the chair. Instead of the nurse’s uniform, she was decked out in pajamas and a bathrobe.
The edges of his mouth curved upward. Cynical humor washed through him. At least his companion for the night couldn’t talk back.
As the heat of the night closed in around him, he reached over his head, grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it off. He threw himself onto the couch and waited.
Arms crossed behind his head, eyelids heavy with sleep, Gage stared into the darkness. And as the sun rose over the horizon, he listened for the rustle of Harley’s footsteps traipsing from her bedroom into the room where Mike slept.
They never came.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, Harley eased out of bed without waking the girls, crept out of the room, and headed down the hallway. As much as it appealed to her, she knew she couldn’t hide all day. Eventually the twins would waken and ensure the rest of the household heard them. Mike would rise, and she’d be forced to face both him and Gage.
She tiptoed to the edge of the drape-darkened living room and stopped when she saw Gage fast asleep on the couch, one arm thrown across his eyes, the other resting on his bare chest. A beam of sunlight shot through a tiny opening in the drapes, glinting off the darkness of his hair, turning his skin to golden bronze.
He looked like a warrior from long ago, caught resting by the fire in the hearth. A faint snore escaped his parted lips. He stirred and rolled onto his side.
Even in sleep, he didn’t completely relax. His muscles were firm, his body tense and at the ready, as though mentally prepared for an unexpected attack.
Harley caught her breath and wondered if that’s how he slept every night.
And if so, why?
As she dragged her gaze away from him, she noted that he’d had his own fun with the blowup doll. He’d tilted her back in the recliner, thrown a blanket over her body, and put the remote control unit in her hand.
It made Harley smile because despite his anger the previous evening, he’d retained his sense of humor.
Limbs heavy with fatigue, she turned into the kitchen and pulled out the can of coffee grounds, determined to forget the events from last night. She’d pretend Mike hadn’t kissed her and Gage hadn’t tried to pawn her off on his brother.
A footstep scuffed against the kitchen floor.
She gave a small self-conscious laugh. “I couldn’t ever love Mike. I’m in love with someone else.”
Her words slammed into him and the pain in his chest returned. “Who?”
She shrugged her slim shoulders, her gaze bruised with sorrow. “It’s not important. He doesn’t know and I’ll never get a chance to tell him. He’s not the marrying kind.”
Pity enveloped him and he took a step closer. “Forget about him. The bastard is nuts if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”
She met his gaze again. “Right. I suppose I need to find a man who could fall in love with me, a man who’s not scared to give me all those things.”
Mike fit the bill perfectly, and maybe with time and exposure, she might change her mind.
Deep down in his gut, he knew it was wrong.
He’d deliberately stayed out of her life, hoping for this very thing. And now that it was within her grasp—now that she’d finally found someone safe she could spend her life with—he felt an insane jealousy take hold.
Because, selfish bastard that he was, he wanted her for himself.
You’re just like your old man.
Worse.
He didn’t need to get skunk-faced drunk before he hurt the one he loved.
He growled in disgust. Love was an insane idea started by insane people. Love didn’t exist—couldn’t exist—not in his world. “Go to bed, Harl. It’s late.”
She spun on the balls of her feet, and without a backward glance, hurried down the hallway and disappeared into the bedroom.
Gage headed into the living room, halted when he caught sight of the doll on the chair. Instead of the nurse’s uniform, she was decked out in pajamas and a bathrobe.
The edges of his mouth curved upward. Cynical humor washed through him. At least his companion for the night couldn’t talk back.
As the heat of the night closed in around him, he reached over his head, grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it off. He threw himself onto the couch and waited.
Arms crossed behind his head, eyelids heavy with sleep, Gage stared into the darkness. And as the sun rose over the horizon, he listened for the rustle of Harley’s footsteps traipsing from her bedroom into the room where Mike slept.
They never came.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, Harley eased out of bed without waking the girls, crept out of the room, and headed down the hallway. As much as it appealed to her, she knew she couldn’t hide all day. Eventually the twins would waken and ensure the rest of the household heard them. Mike would rise, and she’d be forced to face both him and Gage.
She tiptoed to the edge of the drape-darkened living room and stopped when she saw Gage fast asleep on the couch, one arm thrown across his eyes, the other resting on his bare chest. A beam of sunlight shot through a tiny opening in the drapes, glinting off the darkness of his hair, turning his skin to golden bronze.
He looked like a warrior from long ago, caught resting by the fire in the hearth. A faint snore escaped his parted lips. He stirred and rolled onto his side.
Even in sleep, he didn’t completely relax. His muscles were firm, his body tense and at the ready, as though mentally prepared for an unexpected attack.
Harley caught her breath and wondered if that’s how he slept every night.
And if so, why?
As she dragged her gaze away from him, she noted that he’d had his own fun with the blowup doll. He’d tilted her back in the recliner, thrown a blanket over her body, and put the remote control unit in her hand.
It made Harley smile because despite his anger the previous evening, he’d retained his sense of humor.
Limbs heavy with fatigue, she turned into the kitchen and pulled out the can of coffee grounds, determined to forget the events from last night. She’d pretend Mike hadn’t kissed her and Gage hadn’t tried to pawn her off on his brother.
A footstep scuffed against the kitchen floor.
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