“That’s when you became a nanny.”
“Yep. Changed my classes to night classes and lived in with the families I worked for so I didn’t have to worry about the dorm. And became my own woman.”
His brow furrowed. “So, we’re sort of alike.”
“A little, but my story doesn’t end as happily as yours.”
He sent her a look, encouraging her to explain. Unsure if she should, she sucked in a breath. But in the end, she decided that if she intended to push him past his boundaries, the least she could do was be honest with him.
“My dad died my third year at university. All the money he made, all the money that kept him from me, meant nothing. He had a heart attack when he was alone and, with no one to help him or even call an ambulance, he died.”
Matt reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I’m so sorry.”
“If he’d paid one whit of attention to me, I would have been there. He wouldn’t have died. But he’d treated me like an afterthought and I genuinely believed he didn’t want me around.” Bottled up feelings began to pop free, making her voice shaky and her eyes water. “But do you want to know the real punch line of this story? All his money came to me. All that money that kept him from me.” She paused to take a cleansing breath. “I didn’t want it. But I wasn’t so foolish as to flush it down a toilet.”
He barked a short laugh, one of acknowledgment, but with very little humor.
“I bought a new car and my condo and gave the rest to charity.”
He studied her from across the table. “You gave your inheritance to charity?”
“I didn’t want it. I took enough for a decent start on life, then let it go. I didn’t want the money that had stolen my dad from me.”
“And that’s why you’re not impressed with money.”
She inclined her head, not able to speak. Now she wasn’t just remembering her time at university. Memories of her lonely years as a little girl had also floated to the surface. Memories of how much she’d wanted her father’s love, and how stubborn she’d gotten as a teenager, staying out of the house on weekends that she’d known he’d be home because she feared he’d only spend his time working and ignore her. And she couldn’t handle the pain of his silent rejection anymore.
Tears filled her eyes and the lump of emotion came back to her throat. She missed her dad. But, then again, it seemed she’d spent her whole life missing her dad.
“That’s why you want me to be a good dad for Bella.”
She nodded.
He pulled his hand away and scrubbed it down his face. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Her voice broke. They were finally genuinely getting to know each other. He wasn’t apologizing for bringing up a sensitive subject any more than she was apologizing for getting hurt over his sniping at her. Their apologies were for their misconceptions about each other up to this point. All the same, it was the first time she’d spoken about her dad with anyone and emotions she hadn’t expected overwhelmed her.
“Sometimes I look back on the years I was in school being stubborn and headstrong over my dad’s ‘slights’ and I realize that if I’d pushed for his attention things might have been very different.”
To her embarrassment, her tears spilled over. She’d cried about her dad before, but never so honestly and certainly never with another person. But she could talk about this with Matt because she knew he understood. He hadn’t gotten along with his stepfather any better than she’d gotten along with her father. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. It also didn’t take away the guilt. She’d been twenty-one when her dad died. Surely, she could have been mature enough to go to his house and say, “Let’s have dinner?”
Fresh tears erupted at that and she rose from the table to get something to wipe her eyes. After a few seconds of searching for tissues, her frustration with looking collided with her frustration with her life and her tears became full-scale sobbing. “Is there a box of tissues in this room that seems to have everything but tissues?”
Panicked by her tears, he bounced off his seat. “That’s a good question.” He roamed around the room, fruitlessly seeking tissues, and in the end ripped a paper towel off the roll by the sink.
But when he reached her, she wouldn’t look at him again, reminding him of how she wouldn’t look at him after he’d yelled about not wanting to know his family. Regret filled him, along with intense longing to be kind to this woman who’d had a childhood far more difficult than his.
Rather than hand the paper towel to her, he rolled it in a ball and lightly dabbed it along the tracks of her tears.
That brought her gaze to his and he swallowed. She was so beautiful, but right in that moment it wasn’t her beauty that called to him. It was something more, something deeper, something so important he didn’t dare let himself examine it.
But he also couldn’t ignore it. With their gazes locked and tears welling in her eyes again, that “something deeper” inside him wouldn’t let this moment slide away. He lowered his head, watching her eyes darken. With fear? With curiosity? He couldn’t tell. He only knew that if he didn’t kiss her right this second, he would be sorry.
Softly, slowly, he let his lips graze hers, telling her with his actions that he understood and wanted to comfort her.
And every bit as slowly her lips rose to meet his, answering him, accepting his comfort.
The kiss grew as they experimented with the feel and taste of each other’s lips. Arousal surged through him, along with the knowledge that she wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever known. Not even Ginny, a pampered princess who might have had to fight alongside her second husband for success, but who didn’t understand suffering. Sadness. The feeling of not quite living up to the expectations of the person who meant the most to you.
Claire understood. She was a real person. A real woman. Someone with problems and goals, who knew life didn’t always turn out the way you hoped.
She suddenly pulled away from him. “What are you doing?”
She stepped back, gaping at him as if he were crazy. “You told me you’re a mean, coldhearted playboy. Somebody I should stay away from. Why the hell would you kiss me like that?”
Like that. She hadn’t spelled it out, but he knew what she meant. Why had he kissed her like he meant it? Like he had feelings for her. Like they had connected.
His breath caught in his chest and seemed to knot there. What the hell was he doing?
“I need to wash my face.” She took another step back, then turned and raced out of the kitchen.
He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck as he sat at the table again. Vibrating with confusion, he stared at his soup. He couldn’t argue her logic. Didn’t want to apologize. How could he? What would he say? Hey, we connected. Why not kiss? He wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to be like that! He wanted to be left alone.
Yet she needed him. He more than sensed it. And something inside of him surged with longing to be the one to fix whatever was wrong.
It was absurd. Not just because he’d never wanted to be a great “fixer” of people. He was an iceman. But also because he didn’t know how to fix anybody. Hell, he couldn’t even fix himself.
Racing up the stairs to the makeshift nursery, Claire just wanted to roll up in a ball and die. She didn’t know what was worse, exposing her secrets to a virtual stranger, or accepting his comfort when she knew deep down inside he didn’t mean it.
Oh, for a few seconds she thought he had. The sweet, sensitive way he’d kissed her made her believe her story had touched him. And maybe it had, but it didn’t mean