Passionately Ever After. Metsy Hingle
sworn that she loved him. He wanted to go to her, pull her into his arms and kiss her, hear her say those words to him again now. And because he wanted to so badly, he jammed his fists into his pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“How did you find me?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“Does it really matter? The important thing is that I did find you,” he told her, not wanting to admit that he’d broken a few rules in his quest to locate her. When she said nothing, he released a breath in exasperation. “I tracked you through your credit card. You used it to send flowers to your family for Thanksgiving.”
“But how—” she began, only to answer the question herself. “The computer. You hacked into the computer system for my credit card activity.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “And if you’re going to tell me that what I did was illegal, don’t bother. I already know that. But I was desperate to find you.”
“You could have been arrested.”
Steven shrugged. “It would have been a small price to pay.”
“You shouldn’t have risked it,” she charged.
“I would have risked a lot more than that to find you,” he said honestly. “But it seems I got away with my crime. That is, unless you’re planning to turn me in.”
“Of course I’m not,” she countered.
“For a minute there, I wasn’t sure,” he teased, wanting to lighten the mood. Much to his regret, Maria continued to look grim. “Now that I’ve answered your question, how about answering mine?”
Maria wrinkled her brow, causing the tiny crease along her forehead he’d noted whenever she was puzzling over something. “What question?”
“Was Magdalene right? Did you miss me?” When she said nothing, Steven bit back the sting of disappointment and his voice was hard as he said, “It’s a simple question, Maria. All it requires is a yes or no answer. Did you miss me? Even just a little bit?”
“Yes. I’ve missed you,” she said finally, the words little more than a whisper.
Relief rushed through him at her reply and he started toward her. “God, Maria, if you only knew how much—”
“Don’t,” she said, holding up her hand.
Steven stopped in his tracks. Frustration churned inside him. Frustration and hurt. “Don’t what, Maria? Don’t tell you that I love you? That I’ve been going out of my mind these past two months without you? That I believed you when you said that you loved me? And that you damn near cut my heart out when you ran off like you did without any explanation?”
“I left you a note,” she defended.
“Yeah, a few paltry lines saying that you needed to get away. That you needed time to think,” he said, not bothering to keep the bitterness from his voice. He paced the length of the room, jammed a fist through his hair. He whipped back around to face her. “How do you think that made me feel? I tell you that I love you, that I want to marry you and then you disappear and tell me not to try to find you. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” he repeated and marched over to where she stood before the fireplace hearth. “You say you love me, then rip my heart out and throw it back in my face by running away, and all you have to say is that you’re sorry?”
She stared up at him out of sad brown eyes. “Believe me, Steven. Hurting you was…is the last thing I ever wanted to do.”
“Well, you did hurt me,” he fired back. Unable to stop himself, he reached for her. “I love you, Maria. And dammit, I know you love me. So why are you doing this to us? Tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
“You can’t fix it,” she said and pulled away from him. Hugging her arms to herself, she turned her back to him and stared into the fire. “No one can fix it. No one.”
The tears in her voice ripped at him. “What is it, love? Tell me what’s wrong.”
When Maria shook her head, he turned her around to face him. Tipping up her chin, he stared into eyes bright with tears and secrets. A fist seemed to tighten itself around his heart as he studied her face. He’d always thought Maria beautiful—from the first moment he’d set eyes on her at Nicholas and Gail’s wedding. Yet there was something even more beautiful about her now, an inner glow much like the waitress at his family’s restaurant when she’d been—
Steven yanked his gaze from Maria’s and moved down the length of her body. Emotion churned inside him as he registered the subtle differences in her appearance and demeanor. He took in the shapeless red coat that swallowed her slender frame, noted the protective way Maria’s hands rested near her middle. In the blink of an eye, all the changes in her hit him like a sucker punch. “Take off your coat, Maria,” he commanded in a voice so controlled and cool, it sounded foreign even to him.
She stared at him, like a deer that had been caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, he thought. And he hated the fact that it was fear that he read in her eyes. “Steven—”
“Take off the coat, Maria,” he repeated and softening his voice, he added, “Please.”
With a patience that belied the blood racing like wild-fire through his veins, Steven watched as she slowly unbuttoned the red coat. When the last button had been loosened, she pulled off the coat and tossed it aside. She lifted her head, angled her gaze up to his and stared at him out of eyes bright with defiance.
Steven lowered his gaze and stared at her protruding stomach. Emotions pummeled through him at breakneck speed—anger, joy, hurt. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers again, he read the regret in her eyes. And it was that regret that sent a knife plunging straight through his heart.
“Tell me something, Maria,” he said, taking care to keep his voice soft while rage and pain warred inside him.
“What?”
“Were you even planning to tell me that I was going to be a father?”
Two
For a moment, Maria couldn’t speak. In the time she’d known Steven, she’d discovered a man with many layers. The smart, ambitious businessman who’d made his first million before he’d turned twenty-five. The kind and caring man who loved his family as fiercely as she loved her own. The passionate and tender lover to whom she’d given her virginity and her heart. But never once, not even when she’d refused to take their relationship public or to discuss his offer of marriage, had she seen Steven like this—in a white-hot fury made all the more chilling because he kept it so tightly leashed.
Anger emanated from every pore of his being. It was there in the tight lines around his mouth, in the ticking of the muscle in his right cheek, in the hard set of his jaw. Despite her sweater and the heat of the fire, Maria shivered beneath his icy blue glare. Not because she feared Steven would harm her physically. She didn’t. She knew he would sooner cut off his arm than hurt any woman. But the contempt she read in his eyes struck her like a blow.
“It’s a simple question, Maria. I’d appreciate an answer.”
Maria’s head swam. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wrapped her arms around herself and fought to steady herself, searched for the right words to explain.
“Look at me, Maria,” he commanded in a voice so soft she had to strain to hear it. “Were you even planning to tell me about the baby? Or did you think I didn’t deserve to know I was going to be a father?”
She snapped her eyes open and forced herself to meet his gaze. “Of course you deserved to know,” she told him. “And I was going to tell you.”
“When?” he demanded. “After the baby was born? What were you going to do? Send me a birth announcement and tack on a note