A Husband's Regret (The Unwanted Series)(44)

"I did. I noticed you almost immediately and then simply couldn't look  away." Yes, she remembered that disturbingly intense stare. She'd been  even more of a klutz as a result of it. "I was riveted, charmed,  confused, and fascinated. Unequivocally and helplessly fascinated." He  gazed off into the distance, lost in his memories. The harsh lines of  his face had softened, and a sweet, wistful smile flirted with the  corners of his lips.

"I barely heard a word Pierre said and categorically dominated your time  by calling you over for the smallest little thing," he recalled.

"I didn't mind," she confessed, allowing the sweetness of the memory to  claim her as well. "I was equally fascinated. I barely remembered that  poor Pierre was there half of the time."

"You were the most entrancing thing I'd ever seen," he said, his voice gruff, and she shook her head dismissively.

"Hardly."

"You still are, Bronwyn." He brushed aside her automatic protest.  "You're not some boring, conventional beauty, true. And yeah, you tend  to be a little clumsy at times. But you're unusual, interesting, and to  me you're just so indescribably gorgeous. I never thought that I  deserved you. You were too good for the likes of me."

She didn't understand that sentiment at all. He was heartbreakingly  handsome and she was painfully plain. He came from a background of  wealth and privilege while her family had been as poor as church mice.  He had been Oxford educated with a master's degree in business while she  had barely made it through high school. It had been a classic  Cinderella tale, and Bronwyn had been the one to feel inadequate when  compared to him.

"I should have left you alone," he was saying, his low voice alive with  misery and his eyes filled with such profound sadness that Bronwyn felt  her eyes tearing up in response. "I tried to leave you alone after that  day, but I just couldn't stay away from you. I had to see you again. You  were so sweet and gentle and every time I was with you . . . I felt . .  ." His voice had gone so quiet that she could barely hear him, and the  last word was almost silent, but she could have sworn he said cleansed.  He'd felt cleansed when he was with her? It was such an odd choice of  words that she knew she must have been mistaken, but what else could it  have been?

His voice had faded away completely now and he wasn't speaking anymore,  merely staring down at the place setting in front of him. His large  hands were curled into fists on the tabletop, and Bronwyn reached over  to cover them with her own hands. The gesture brought his eyes back up  to hers and she was startled see moisture sparkling in them.

"I should have stayed away from you," he repeated. "But I couldn't. I  can't. You're my light, Bronwyn. You're my love. I'm so lost without  you. I've always been so lost without you."

"Bryce."

He shook himself and glanced over at their perceptive daughter, who had  stopped playing and was watching them with wide and worried eyes. She  looked on the verge of tears.





  

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have started this conversation with Kayla  around." He forced a smile for the little girl's sake and dragged his  hands out from under hers. She watched as he brusquely wiped at his eyes  and put on a cheerful front for their daughter.

She kept stealing glances at him, wondering at the unfamiliar man that  he'd allowed her to catch a glimpse of today. That was what she had  wanted-demanded-from him. Honesty. And he had just given her a huge  chunk of honesty. But whatever his truth was, she now knew that it was  devastating, and she was certain that whatever it was had been  responsible for his painful reaction to her pregnancy. Some truly awful  thoughts were starting to form in the back of her mind, but her  suspicions were so ugly that she forced them back down and dismissed  them as impossible.

She watched as he gently teased and played with their daughter and  forced herself to remember the day that she'd told him about her  pregnancy. He had reacted in a near-violent explosion of emotions,  accusations, and . . . fear. She recalled the look in his eyes and now  understood that he had been absolutely terrified by her news. She was  completely staggered by this unexpected new insight into the confusing  events of that night.

"Protect us from what?" she asked, but he was playing with Kayla and  didn't see her question. She waved her hand to get his attention, and he  blinked up at her, his too-long hair flopping over one eye in the  process. That errant lock of hair made him look so boyish and vulnerable  that she felt a lump forming in her throat. She unthinkingly reached  over and brushed the hair out of his eyes with gentle fingers. He leaned  into her touch, but she withdrew her hand almost immediately.

"A couple of weeks ago you said that you wanted to protect us from  something." She went back to what was foremost on her mind, absently  rubbing her fingers-still tingling from the brief contact with his  skin-on her denim-clad thigh. "Protect us from what?"

He sighed harshly.

"Let's talk about this when we get home. I was stupid to think this  could be the place for that discussion," he deflected cryptically, and  her brow furrowed in frustration. She was sick of the diversions and  delays. The conversations that started but never seemed to finish. She  picked at her food after it arrived and made sure that Kayla ate hers  with as little mess as possible. The little glances she sent Bryce's way  revealed that he was merely toying with his food as well.

"Do you remember our first date?" he asked her, and she smiled at the memory.

"How could I forget?" she said, recalling. "You showed up here at the  end of my shift, asked me out, and spent the rest of the evening  lecturing me about crime and safety."

He snorted.

"We also talked for hours about our favorite movies, music, and books," he reminded.

"Yes. And all the time you kept staring at my mouth." She hadn't meant  to say that, and when his gaze-which had already been fixed on her  mouth-went blistering hot at her words, her breath quickened and the  residual tingling in her fingertips spread like wildfire through her  body before gathering in the sensitized tips of her breasts. Her bra  felt uncomfortably tight, and she could feel the blood slowly inching  into her cheeks.

"You wouldn't believe the fantasies I was weaving around that mouth," he  said absently, licking his lips as if he could taste said mouth on his  tongue. "And those mile-high legs of yours. God, I could picture them  wrapped around my waist or thrown over my shoulders . . ." Both  scenarios had come to fruition the first time he'd gotten her into bed.

Her breathing quickened even more as she remembered that particular  night-he had been insatiable and so very creative. God, she missed him  in her bed . . . in her body. She shook herself, tossing a guilty glance  at her daughter, who now had her toy phone pushed up against the side  of Broccoli's head so that the doll could "speak" to Rhys as well. The  girl caught her eye and smiled.

"Firsty, Mummy . . ." Bronwyn sneaked a little peek over at Bryce and  could see that his own cheeks had gone a dull red, his pupils were  dilated, and his breathing was labored. She recognized the signs of his  arousal immediately and knew from the way he shifted in his seat that  his jeans were getting a little snug in the crotch area. God, this  wasn't helping their cause. She had to control herself. She couldn't  seem to keep her hands off him for the most part, and it wasn't doing  either of them any good. She looked away from him, trying very hard to  ignore what was happening to both of them, and smiled down at her  daughter, who was starting to look a little grumpy at being ignored.





  

"Okay, sweetie," she placated. "Do you want water or some juice?"

"Duce," Kayla demanded, and glared defiantly back when Bronwyn leveled a  reprimanding stare at her. Her rebellious lower lip started quivering  before she sighed dramatically and gave in. "Peese. Duce peese."

"Good girl." Bryce, who seemed to have gotten a modicum of control over  his body, praised her in a hoarse voice. He flagged the server over and  nodded at Kayla. When she understood what her father wanted her to do,  her tiny chest puffed up with pride, and she smiled winningly up at the  younger man.

"Duce peese."

The server grinned.

"Orange or apple?" He wisely gave her only two choices, and she opted for the apple.

When the man trotted away, Bryce looked meaningfully over at Bronwyn.

"You know that I'm as hard as a steel pipe for you right now, don't you?"

"Bryce," she squeaked, tossing a scandalized look over at Kayla. The  little girl was oblivious to them and craning her neck to see where her  new friend-the server-had gone.

"And it's always been that way between us. From the very beginning," he  pointed out, ignoring her shock. "That's another thing I never told you.  While I was riveted, charmed, fascinated, and all of that, I was also  turned on beyond belief. Aside from not wanting to leave when Pierre  did, my body didn't give me much choice in the matter. I was pretty much  incapable of standing upright without shocking every damned person in  here that day. Every time I thought I had it under control, you'd smile  or something and I'd go to instant attention again. I had a terminal  case of wood for most of the first year of our marriage as you know . . .  but in those first few months it was damned near impossible to control.  I was like a horny teenager with you."