As far as Lucy knew, he was still married to her.
Lucy swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. She would give Zane credit for being more evolved than that. She knew without even a second’s hesitation that he wouldn’t blame her or accuse her of trying to manipulate him. Of course, she had to prepare herself for the fact that this news was going to blindside him. She also had to accept the very real fact that he loved her about as much as Nathaniel Phillips had loved Dorothy. Although she wouldn’t insult him by comparing him to his father.
“Zane does not love me,” she said to her reflection, thinking if she said it out loud her heart would hear it and wake up to reality.
She said it again and listened hard.
The words echoed off the bathroom tile as she said them again. Reinforcement. She needed to make sure the words sank in, that she fully understood the reality of the situation. He might care for her as a friend, and they might be darn good together in bed, but he did not love her.
But of course, he was an equal partner in this, too.
Even if she had started it, because she had been the one who had gotten the love train rolling, because she knew Zane well enough to be certain that if she hadn’t spelled it out, if she hadn’t made it clear that not only was it okay for him to cross that line but she’d wanted him to make love to her, he never would have touched her.
Once the train was out of the station, so to speak, they had both been equally willing participants. She put her hand on her flat belly.
This baby was nobody’s fault. The pregnancy was unplanned and not ideal, and Lucy was still reeling from the shock of it, but none of that changed the fact that next March, she was going to have Zane Phillips’s baby.
In the meantime, she needed to figure out how to tell him.
Even if Zane hadn’t readily admitted it to himself, on some subconscious level he’d known from the moment he’d picked up the call from Lucy that she was upset. He’d known by the tone of her voice that something was off, but she said she was simply having one of those days and didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. She’d insisted that she was fine, but she needed to talk to him today and asked him if she could come over. He should’ve told her about the interview and asked if it could wait until he got back, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d told her to come over.
She’d promised she wouldn’t stay long. He certainly wasn’t bringing out any bourbon and he wouldn’t let himself be seduced by kung pao beef.
He used the word seduced lightly, though. It wasn’t as if he was blameless when it came to their night together. He’d been weak, and he’d given in to his basest urges. He was perfectly willing to take full responsibility for what had happened between them. And along with that, he was fully prepared to make sure it never happened again. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Lucy, or toy with her emotions. Even though he hadn’t been cognizant of that the night of the bourbon, he was well aware now and it wouldn’t happen again.
He knew he couldn’t change the past and beating himself up over things he couldn’t change was pointless. However, he could help them move forward.
In the past, if Lucy had called saying she needed to talk, he’d always made time. Now was no different.
And when he heard her arrive, he thought he was being authentic to their friendship when he answered the door, got a good look at Lucy and said, “You look like hell.”
He instantly regretted it when she glowered at him.
“Gee, thanks.”
“I mean, you’re always beautiful,” he countered. “You just don’t look like yourself. Are you okay?”
She made a sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a harrumph. When she didn’t come back with one of her usual quick-witted responses, he knew something wasn’t right. Then again, telling a woman, whether she was a friend or lover—or both—that she looked like hell was a boneheaded thing to do. He never had been good with words. He should just shut up before he dug himself in deeper.
“Come in. It’s hot out there.” He stepped back and held open the door, letting her pass into the living room.
They hadn’t been alone like this in weeks—since that night. It hadn’t been a conscious decision not to be alone together, at least not something they’d discussed. It was as if they’d mutually decided to stay in safe territory.
They’d seen each other in the company of others and had gone on as if nothing had changed. And it hadn’t...had it? Or had he been so damn determined to make things normal again that he hadn’t let himself see it any other way?
As Lucy stepped inside and he closed the door behind her, memories of the last time they’d been alone flooded back and his body responded.
He was leaving within the half hour. His bags were packed and waiting by the door. He could exercise enough self-control to be alone with her. But judging from the look on her face, that wasn’t going to be a problem. Though she’d said she was fine when she’d called and asked if she could come over and talk to him, it was clear as the summer sky now that something was very wrong.
“Are you going somewhere?” Her face had softened to a look of concern, but the characteristic sparkle was still absent from her brown eyes.
“I am.” It was all he could manage to say before a look of dawning replaced her look of apprehension.
“Did you get the Ocala job?”
He shook his head.
“It’s just an interview.”
Over the past six weeks, he’d had several interviews at various ranches in the South—he’d even had a couple of offers that he’d turned down because they weren’t exactly right. There was always something amiss—either the salary had been less than what he was making now or some aspect of the job wasn’t right. Actually, he’d been holding out for the job at Hidden Rock in Ocala, Florida. It was the real deal. The one he’d been waiting for. A chance to work with champion horses; potential for great salary; opportunity to do the kind of work he’d been itching to do. While he’d mentioned the Ocala prospect to Lucy in passing—that the ranch was looking for a general manager—he hadn’t told her that he’d finally gotten a call for an interview. The stakes seemed so high and he was enough of a realist to know he shouldn’t get his hopes up. It was a coveted position. He hadn’t wanted to say anything to anyone, especially not to Lucy, until he had something more substantial to report.
A first-round interview, especially since it had taken them nearly two months to respond to his résumé, was not substantial.
But in typical Lucy fashion, she seemed to zero in on what he wasn’t saying as if she was reading his mind. The thought was simultaneously comforting and unnerving, since everywhere he looked in his small living room, he saw reminders of the night that they had made love.
The window across the room, where it had all started. The couch that was right in front of them, where they had made love the first time. The hallway to his right, where they had somehow managed to walk while staying tangled up in each other on their way to the bedroom, where they had spent the rest of the night.
Reflexively his gaze fell to Lucy’s lips and his groin tightened as he remembered how