Matt didn’t know if she was being serious, and not knowing where he stood pissed him off. And there was something in her tone...something he couldn’t put his finger on. Behind her tough-girl words, he could see vulnerability and...was that guilt?
“What aren’t you telling me, DJ?”
DJ arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
Damn if that prissy voice didn’t make him harder than he already was, if that was possible. “Spill it, DJ.”
Irritation flashed in her eyes and she shook her head, looking weary. “Lawyers. If you weren’t so damn hot I wouldn’t have hooked up with you.” She sighed. “I don’t have space in my life for an affair with you, Matt. I work long hours, I like my space. Also, I tend to get cranky around this time of year, so I prefer to be alone.”
She didn’t like Christmas? Why not? There was a story there. Another one. And why was he suddenly so curious? For seven years, he’d managed not to ask her questions, not to dig deeper, but now his first reaction to new information was to find a spade and start shoveling?
Get a grip, Edwards!
“Apart from a weekend of great sex with you here and there, I like being alone. Seeing you a couple of times a year is enough for me.”
Matt leaned back, placed his ankle on his opposite knee and held DJ’s gaze. She was trying so hard to remain calm, to persuade him that she was a cold woman who didn’t feel anything, but she needed to become a lot better at lying before he bought into her BS. She wasn’t cold, or sophisticated, or tough. What she was, was bone-deep scared of having him in Boston.
Why? Why could she easily handle a few days with him but seeing him regularly scared the pants off her?
And why did he care?
And why wasn’t he saying to hell with this drama and walking out her door? He could leave, walk down the block and into a bar and, after a couple of cocktails and an hour or two of small talk, he was pretty sure he could score. But he didn’t want sex with some random stranger.
There was only one woman he wanted...
Matt leaned forward and swiped his thumb across DJ’s lower lip, his fingers lightly stroking her jaw. Desire burned in her eyes and under his fingers her skin heated. Glancing down, he noticed her nipples beading, pushing against the thin fabric of her silk shirt.
She’d never been able to hide her attraction to him, thank God. Because he saw her need for him, could feel her heat, could almost taste her...he pushed.
He kept his voice low, but his tone was resolute. “So here’s what’s going to happen, Dylan-Jane. I’m going to be living across the road from you and we’re going to run into each other often. Your friends are mine and our paths will cross. And even if they don’t, I’ll make damn sure they do. It’s been too damn long since I’ve had you and I want you under me as soon as possible. Yeah, this year has been unusual, I accept that. What I don’t accept is this barrier you’ve flung up between us. But know this, I will pull it down and I will find out why you put it up in the first place.”
“Matt—”
“Not done.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “We’ve always been honest with each other and you’re not being honest now. While I think part of what you said is true—you like being alone and Christmas sucks—that’s not the whole truth.”
“You haven’t told me the whole truth about why you are back in Boston,” DJ pointed out.
He hadn’t, he had to give her that. “But that has nothing to do with you, nothing at all, and I know, don’t ask me how, that your stay-away-from-me attitude is all about me, about us.”
He saw agreement flash in her eyes and sighed. God, what was going on with her? And why couldn’t she just spit it out? Matt closed his eyes and released a long breath.
“Jesus, DJ, just tell me already.”
DJ stood up, walked over to the window and folded her arms across her stomach. She bowed her head and he could see her shoulders shaking. God, he hoped she wasn’t crying. Tears were his Kryptonite. He stood up, went over to her and stood behind her, not touching her but silently offering his support. “You can tell me, Dylan-Jane.”
DJ remained silent for a long time and when she finally turned, he saw the capitulation in her eyes. Finally!
“We made love on Christmas Eve and I got pregnant.” Her words were a series of punches in his solar plexus. He battled to find air, to make sense of her words. Then DJ took another deep breath and spoke again. “I lost the baby in February.”
It took a minute, an hour—a decade—for his brain to restart, his mouth to work. He thought he was calm but when the words flew out of his mouth, they emerged as a roar. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? As soon as you knew?”
DJ’s face drained of color and she retreated a step so that her back was flush against the window.
“I tried—”
“Not that hard,” Matt shouted, unable to control the volume of his voice. “I had a right to know, dammit! How dare you take that away from me? You lied to me! You let me believe one thing when the exact opposite was true. Jesus, Gemma!”
Gemma? Had he really said that?
Matt stared at DJ, noting her dark eyes dominating her face. She was edging her way to the door, needing to walk away from him. He didn’t blame her. In his anger and shock, he’d overlapped Gemma’s and DJ’s actions and he wasn’t sure which situation he was reacting to. He needed to leave, to get his head on straight, to think about what she’d said, what had happened.
To find distance and control.
Matt whirled around, walked to the door and yanked it open. Stepping into the hallway, he saw Jules and Darby jogging down the hallway toward him with Amazonian warrior-woman expressions on their faces. They blocked his path, momma bears protecting their cub.
“What happened?” Jules demanded, her expression fierce.
“Did you hurt her?” Darby asked, equally ferocious. “If you hurt her, we will make her press charges.”
God, what did they take him for? “She’s fine. We just had an argument,” Matt wearily replied.
Air, he needed air.
“If she’s hurt, Edwards, I swear to God we’ll string you up,” Darby told him before she and Jules pushed past him and rushed down the hallway to their friend’s office.
Matt watched them rush away, his heart trying to claw its way out of his chest. He rubbed his hand over his breastbone, trying to ease the ache, a part of him still not believing DJ’s declaration. For the second time in his life, he’d heard that a woman had miscarried his baby. Unlike the last time he’d experienced this news, the baby he’d briefly given DJ would not, like Emily had earlier this year, write him a letter and tell him that he, or she, was his biological child and ask if they could meet.
He didn’t want a family, wasn’t cut out to be a dad, but, man, that thought made him feel profoundly sad.
So wow. That happened.
DJ stared at her office door, flabbergasted by Matt’s off-the-wall reaction. She’d spent hours imagining the conversation they’d just had, and she’d never once thought Matt—cool, calm, controlled Matt—would lose it.
And lose it loudly.
DJ dropped to the edge of her couch and placed her head in her hands. After trying to reach him a few