Luc laughed bitterly. “No. I’m the last thing she needs.” He spotted Kimber’s brother returning with a tray filled with coffees. “Ask him. He’ll tell you.”
Clapping his cousin on the back, Luc turned and spotted a triage nurse leaving her post to help a woman in labor. He sneaked in the door just before it closed, then wandered down the hall. Temporary rooms were set up in a circle all around the nurses’ station. A whiteboard in the middle of the room listed all the patients and their room numbers. Finding Alyssa’s room in the corner was easy enough. So was ducking in.
Inside, the thin drape had been drawn. He could see her outline, but nothing more. She didn’t want to see him, and he respected that, so he didn’t tear it away, as he yearned to. Damn hard. Luc wanted to see for himself that she was okay, unharmed. But she’d made her wishes clear. Now would be his only chance to say good-bye.
Behind the drape, he heard the beep of monitors, the pump of oxygen into her system. An IV stand abutted the wall, only partially concealed. He swallowed, wanting to see her, take her hand . . . something.
She wanted nothing to do with him, and it hurt so fucking bad.
Wishing she wasn’t asleep and would hear him, he sighed, his breath ruffling the ugly blue drape. “I’m so damn sorry about so many things. I—Around you, I turned into someone I didn’t know how to control, and you were right to dismiss me.” He grabbed the curtain, forcing himself to keep it in place, not to rush past it to her bedside and wake her, take her in his arms. “I’m sorry that my behavior drove you away, into Peter’s clutches. So sorry. You don’t know how close I am to falling completely in love with you. Clearly, it’s better for us all if I leave.”
The moment was upon him. One word; that was all he had to say. Good-bye. Then he could leave, let her rest easier and eventually get on with her life.
Luc couldn’t force the word out. Instead, he clenched his fists to hold in what felt suspiciously like tears, then left the hospital room for good.
Chapter Eleven
“LUC?”
He turned toward the familiar voice, swallowing back his annoyance. Emily. She approached him on sensible pumps, looking like something out of a Lands’ End catalog with crisp khaki pants, a smart white blouse, and a little red cardigan. The colors suited her pale complexion and dark hair. She was stylishly accessorized, the look modest, understated. When she smiled, the expression reached all the way to her hazel eyes. She really was perfect in so many ways.
The smile he sent in return felt more like a grimace as he waved her over.
Glancing at his watch, he was relieved to see the book signing and cooking demonstration would end in another ten minutes.
Doing his best to meet and greet, pose for pictures, and answer fans’ questions, he was conscious of Emily’s presence just beyond his left shoulder. He glanced back at her. Damn, she was wearing her purposeful look.
When he’d run out of books and time was more than up, he stood and walked to the portable kitchen area and grabbed the microphone. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I appreciate the support. Have a great evening.”
After a hearty round of applause, people began to file out. A reporter or two milled around, but store personnel escorted them out. Luc braced himself and turned toward Emily.
Everything inside him recoiled. She was lovely, cultured, educated, kind. She loved children, had broadly hinted that she’d welcome a marriage proposal, and wanted to start a family right away. Luc even had the ring in his pocket, a simple two-carat teardrop-shaped diamond—her favorite, according to her—on a thin gold band, just waiting for the right moment.
She was everything he should want. But he’d been waiting for that right moment for three weeks, and the ring was still tucked away in its box in his suit coat.
He sighed, then closed the distance between them to kiss her cheek.
“You look nice.” It wasn’t her fault that he was dying to see another woman in a sexy short skirt, garters, and a saucy attitude.
Damn! He’d never see her again, and Luc knew he needed to get on with his life. Today he’d turned thirty-six. Tonight was as good as any to start embracing his future. If he wanted to have children, he needed to try starting his family soon. It could be a years-long process, but Emily, twenty-eight and ready, would be supportive.
Luc felt guiltily relieved that having children with her wouldn’t require sex. She was lovely. And a wonderful person. He’d feel desire for her . . . someday. Maybe.
Emily’s smile widened. “You look nice, too. And now I must take you to dinner for your very happy birthday. Where should we go?”
Luc tried to muster enthusiasm for the evening. “What sounds good to you?”
Slowly, her smile fell. “Another headache? Have you been to the doctor yet?”
Since returning from Lafayette six weeks ago, he’d fabricated headaches to explain his lack of interest in their dates and his need to cut evenings short. He hated lying to her. Emily deserved better. Either he needed to actually commit to trying to build a future with her or walk away.
His heart voted for the latter. Logic asked him what the hell he’d do about tomorrow if he left Emily. Alyssa was gone, behind him. No matter how much he wished otherwise, this separation was her wish—and the wise choice he hadn’t had the fortitude to make on his own.
He pasted on a smile. “I’m fine.”
Emily frowned. “You’re not feeling depressed about your birthday, are you?”
Not in the way she meant, but it was a good excuse. “Perhaps a little.”
“Then it’s my job to cheer you up!” She smiled, flashing dimples, and reached for his hand.
This and chaste kisses. In the last month, he’d managed no more contact with her than that. How could he get through a wedding night when he couldn’t imagine ever having sex with her? Worse, what would he do when the need he still felt for Alyssa clawed through his skin, demanding something only she could give? Would his resolve to leave her in peace waver then? Would he disregard his marriage vows? Or would he endure in silence until he grew to resent Emily?
“You don’t have to.” He gathered his utensils, notebook, and pens, then took a long time arranging them in his backpack—giving himself more time to school his features and erase his hunger for Alyssa.
“Luc.” She touched his shoulder. “I wanted to wait until we were alone, but . . . You haven’t been the same since you returned from Louisiana. I didn’t want to push, but—”
“Then don’t,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing you can do.”
The perpetual smile finally slipped from her face. “I’m a good listener.”
“I know you are, Emily. I have to work this out alone.”
“If you’re no longer interested in me and the sort of future we discussed, just tell me.”
He closed his eyes. Cling to the past or force out the lie?
“Luc.”
He heard another female call his name, this one farther away. But her familiar voice zipped across his senses like an electric charge through his body, spreading chills across his skin. Had he missed her so much he’d dreamed her?
He whirled around, hope spiking inside him. And across the room she stood.