He had a point. He sounded logical. It was a fair question. But right now she didn’t feel like being fair. Blame it on the hormones or blame it on the blonde, but she wasn’t going to apologize for her delivery.
She shrugged. “So sorry I couldn’t have made it more of a joyous moment for you. Do you want to know how I found out?”
He shifted from one foot to the other and gave a curt nod.
“It started with me vomiting my morning coffee out my car window at oncoming traffic.” Sick satisfaction almost made her smile at his expression. There was something so exhilarating about watching the epitome of cool look very, very agitated. She wanted to continue, especially when the image of Amanda at the barbecue floated into her mind again. Opportunities such as this only came along once in a lifetime.
“Then, as I was standing in church, beside my mother, the entire floor tilted—or so I thought. I had to plunk my butt down on the pew and try not to faint.” She was about to recount her peeing on a stick at work when he broke the silence.
“I’m sorry as hell.”
The wind ruffled the trees, but the sound did nothing to muffle the regret and anger in Jake’s voice.
Claire sighed and picked up her basket of peonies, looping the handle under her arm, and stared at him. “Sorry for what?”
“For everything.” He shoved his hands into the front of his jeans pockets, his legs firmly planted in a wide-legged stance. For everything? What the heck did that mean?
“I shouldn’t have gone into that hotel room with you.”
Sorry for sleeping with her? “Screw you, Manning!” Claire threw the basket in his general direction and stomped toward her house.
A strong hand prevented her from closing the door on his face. She stared at his hand for a moment, startled by the vivid recollection of it on her body. It was an image she’d never forget—his tanned skin against her paler skin, trailing down her body as he explored…
His voice interrupted her thoughts. “I’m sorry. I get that you’re mad. I deserve it. I shouldn’t have walked out after. I had to go away on business the last few weeks.”
Claire shivered as his warm breath caressed her neck, his voice low and rough, but she wasn’t going to fold to his sexiness. She’d done that before and look where that got her.
She whipped around to face him. “You needed to leave at four a.m. on a Sunday morning, the day after your brother’s wedding? Is Manning Construction building condos in a third-world country where there are no cell phone towers?” She yanked her wrist from his grasp.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. We have to talk.”
…
Claire’s pretty brown eyes fired up as Jake all but forced himself into her house. He wasn’t used to her being mad at him. As he stepped into the pristine kitchen, he was momentarily distracted by his surroundings. He’d never been in her house. Funny, he’d known her practically his entire life but knew very little about the woman. Not true. He’d always known Claire was too good for him. Too pretty. Too perfect. Too sweet.
On his way over here, after escaping an imminent beheading at Quinn and Holly’s, he’d stopped on the old lift bridge, gotten off his bike, and just stared into the river. The self-loathing he’d felt nearly made him want to jump. How could he make mistake after mistake in his life? And what about her father? He owed Reverend Holbrook much more than knocking up his daughter. Times like this made him think his own father had been right about him.
His older brother, Quinn, had salvaged the family business. His younger brother was a surgeon. But Jake…he didn’t know what he was. Actually, he did know. His father had never failed to remind him exactly what he was, either verbally or physically, every day since he’d found out the truth. There were things about himself he was too embarrassed and too ashamed of to ever confide in anyone, even his brothers, and especially not to Claire. She would never understand. She had grown up with perfect parents, in a perfect home, and was the cherished daughter of two of the town’s finest citizens.
Tonight he was an ass. No, the night of the wedding he’d been an ass. Sure, he had no idea when they stumbled into the suite that Claire was a virgin, but still. Claire was not your one-night-stand kind of girl and he knew that. That was his other problem—it had been the best night he’d ever had with a woman. His need to have his hands and mouth on her, all over her, had taken over all logic. He’d had an overwhelming urge to drown in the passion she was offering, in the sweetness she embodied, and it had been all-consuming, hot and passionate. For the first time in his life he’d connected with someone. What they shared had nothing to do with experience, with the right touch, the practiced moves…it had been real, raw.