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“Bobby? You mean there’s someone else in my house besides you?” Shane’s reaction was immediate—curiosity combined with a determination that said he was about to tackle a problem head on. “Just who is this Bobby? Your boyfriend?” He hesitated, his words more cautious than accusatory, as if he was uncertain about saying them. “Your husband?”
She tried to still her apprehension. She could not keep the quaver out of her voice, nor could she look Shane in the eye. She stared at the floor and uttered a barely audible response. “Bobby is my son.”
“Your...your son?” Shane staggered backward a couple of steps, stunned. He came to a halt when he bumped into the pantry door. “I didn’t realize you had married.”
“I’m not married.” She attempted to change the subject, making no effort to keep the irritation out of voice. The sick churning in the pit of her stomach confirmed that she was a long way from being in control of anything. “Now, if the inquisition is over...”
He regarded her for a second as he switched his attitude from personal to detached. “You’ve certainly changed.” He had to do something to get his rampaging emotions under control. He knew his anger was only one of them, a small one at that. The overriding element—the thing that bothered him the most and what he had to curb—was his all-consuming desire for Cynthia McCree. It was something he thought he would never come face-to-face with again, yet here it was. “We never used to argue about anything.”
“If you mean that I’m no longer that docile young woman you knew when we were pursuing the education for our careers, the one who hung on your every word, then you’re right—I’ve changed. I learned about the real world very quickly.” She shot him a pointed look. “Almost overnight.” She could tell she hit the mark with her reference to the abrupt way he had terminated their affair.
She straightened her stance and presented him with a businesslike facade that said she considered the conversation at an end. “You needn’t worry, my son and I will be out of your house first thing in the morning.” She whirled around and started toward the door, hoping she had turned away in time to prevent him from seeing the anguish that must surely have registered on her face. The last thing she wanted was to show any weakness or vulnerability to Shane Fortune.
“Wait a minute!” Shane reached out and grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt. Her words and tone may have been angry, but he also heard what was underneath. He heard the hurt and knew he had been the cause of it. That knowledge weighed uncomfortably on his conscience. He was not proud of what he had done to her six years ago and, in particular, the way he had done it. He had never been able to forgive himself for hurting her the way he had. Was it too late to make things right? He didn’t know. He suppressed a sigh of despair. He didn’t know much of anything at the moment.
She jerked her arm free of his grasp and turned a defiant stare on him. She spit out her words, along with her hurt and anger. “What now? Isn’t first thing in the morning soon enough for you? Do you want us out of here tonight?”
“No. That’s not it.” He backed away from her anger and her surprisingly aggressive behavior. “It’s your arm...” His manner softened. “Let me take a look at that abrasion.”
Cynthia glanced at the scrape just below her elbow. What little composure she still possessed was slipping away faster than she could keep control of it. She had to get away from him. From his far-too-tempting presence. She snapped out her words. “It’s nothing.”
Shane grasped her arm again, this time gently, as he changed from the strong and determined Shane Fortune to the compassionate and caring Dr. Fortune. His soothing voice elicited the type of patient confidence that made him so successful and popular at the hospital. “At least let me put some antiseptic on it.”
He tugged until he felt her relent. He slid his fingers down her arm, took her hand in his, then led her across the kitchen. The warmth of her skin spread through his body, rousing a combination of emotions unlike any he’d ever experienced. It was all very confusing and unsettling. He tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.
He opened a cupboard and grabbed a package of cotton balls and a bottle of antiseptic. She flinched and her muscles tensed as he applied it. His soothing voice carried his concern. “Does this hurt?”
“No...it stings a little, that’s all.”
It was as if all the fight had suddenly gone out of her and a crisis had passed. He continued to cling to her hand. He had never forgotten the sensual feeling he got from touching her, yet the tingling sensation emanating from his fingertips and continuing up his arm carried all the excitement of something new and wonderful. The sensation both thrilled and disturbed him.
Cynthia worked her hand out of his grasp without actually jerking it away. His touch stirred up emotions and needs she thought she’d safely buried away. She tried to physically distance herself from his commanding presence and his tempting allure, which made her pulse jump and her blood race. She put as much confidence into her voice as she could muster. “As I said, my son and I will be out of your house first thing in the morning.” She turned and practically ran from him.
“Cynthia, wait.” He watched helplessly as she left the kitchen and started up the stairs, ignoring his words. He stood motionless, rooted to the spot, as the most exciting and tantalizing woman he had ever known walked away from him just as he had walked away from her six long years ago.
He didn’t have a clue what to do. Shane Fortune—the man whose life was totally under control, the man who knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing, the man whose commanding presence inspired confidence in everyone around him—was at a complete loss. He stared at the spot where she’d been standing just a moment earlier, an escalating sense of loss tugging at his consciousness, revealing the emptiness that lived inside him. He realized he had no one to blame but himself.
He and Cynthia had met in graduate school. He thought back. She had been part of his life at a time when he had been trying to deal with inner turmoil about his dual heritage and his place in the overall scheme of things. He had struggled to find his own identity in a life that straddled two worlds—the one on his grandfather’s side, with the wealth and prestige of the Fortune family, and on the other side the Native American culture of his Tohono O’odham grandmother. He’d been positive that Cynthia would never be able to fit into that divided world, especially when he didn’t know where or how he fit into it himself. It had been a time of pent-up anger and inner turmoil, which he had successfully kept hidden behind a facade of strength and control.
There had never been any confusion about his career. Unlike his brother and two cousins, he had made the decision not to work in the family-owned company, Fortune Construction. Being a doctor was what he had always wanted. His personal life, however, had been a mass of confusion and contradictions. No one really knew what he was going through back then. He had managed to keep his turmoil well hidden from everyone who knew him, including his family and Cynthia McCree.
A small spot of warmth, fueled by a long-suppressed emotional need, flickered to life. He did know one thing for certain—no matter how dark something had seemed to him, all his problems would disappear when he held Cynthia McCree in his arms. It had taken several months of stubborn denial and agonizing over what he had done before he finally admitted to himself that by leaving her he had made a colossal blunder, missed her very much and wanted her back in his life.
He had eventually swallowed his pride and asked her father where she had gone. He vividly recalled Robert McCree’s angry words. Don’t you think you’ve already hurt her enough? I told her no good would come of associating with you. If she wants to talk to you, she knows where to find you. Everyone knows where to find the illustrious Fortunes. The words had been cloaked in bitter sarcasm and they had hit their mark. They left him with a gaping hole in his life