If I Can't Let Go. Beth Kery

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      “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so defensive,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She went back to studying his chest, trying to gather herself. “Maybe…maybe it’s difficult for you to understand my reasons.”

      “Try me.”

      Why did he persist in holding her? His touch unnerved her, as did his nearness, and this confession was difficult enough as things stood.

      “I think a lot about what was going through your father’s mind on that night of the crash. You might think that my…obsession about it would have eased over the years, but it hasn’t. It weighs on me.” She lowered her head, blocking herself even more from Liam’s laserlike stare. “Maybe you’ll think it’s foolish, but it’s like an unhealed wound. It bothers me, not knowing what motivated him on that night. What made a father of four children, a successful lawyer and businessman, get behind the wheel of his car with the equivalent of twenty drinks in him? I wasn’t trying to insinuate he purposely caused the crash the other night,” she assured in a pressured fashion. “But there had to be some reason he was in the state he was. If I knew…if I could at least understand, maybe I could finally let it go.”

      “Knowing wouldn’t change anything, Natalie.”

      She blinked. His tone had sounded warm…concerned, even? She forced herself to remain still, her head bowed, even though she longed to look up at him in that moment and try to discern if his expression matched his voice.

      “Maybe you’re right. But I need to try. I’ve talked it over with Mari. She said she’s read that it’s not uncommon for survivors of trauma to need to know all the details that led up to the event. It’s necessary for the grieving process…to make sense of things.”

      “My sister Colleen said something similar. Does that mean you’re still grieving?”

      This time she did look up—slowly. Standing as close as they were, she could make out his features despite the shadows. His expression was currently completely sober, as if his features had been carved from rock. The veins in her wrist seemed to swell and throb beneath his fingers.

      “I’m done grieving. But it’s as if a few crucial pieces are missing from my life. I can’t seem to stop thinking about filling in those gaps.”

      “Why me, then?” he asked after a moment.

      “Mari has spoken so highly of you,” she whispered through leaden lips.

      “And?” he prodded.

      “I thought…I thought perhaps you might share some of my desire. To know the truth,” she added quickly.

      His mouth quirked sardonically. “And of course it wouldn’t hurt that as a Kavanaugh, I might have some inside information.”

      Her spine stiffened. What he’d said had pricked her. Her curiosity about Derry Kavanaugh was so great that it had appealed to her, this idea of having access to someone who knew so much about him.

      “I’d considered it,” she said honestly, “but not in the unflattering light you seem to be imagining. Think whatever you want. You will anyway.”

      For a few tense seconds they just stared at one another in the dim office. Natalie became hyperaware of the steady movement of his chest as he breathed in and out.

      “Okay. I’ll take the job.”

      “You will? That’s…that’s—”

      It happened so quickly that she never had warning. The fluorescent overhead lights flared on, and her eyelids shut automatically at the unexpected intrusion. Still stunned, Natalie struggled to blink as a spasm went through the muscles of her left eyelid. It drooped involuntarily.

      “Ms. Reyes,” Erma called out in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were in here!”

      “Turn out the light,” Liam barked.

      Natalie caught a fleeting image of a shocked-looking Erma standing just inside the open door of her office. She glanced up. She clamped her eyes closed, but not before the image of Liam Kavanaugh’s hungry stare was stamped permanently in her mind.

      The light switch clicked, and the room was suddenly dim again.

      “Are you all right, Ms. Reyes?” Erma asked, sounding anxious and contrite at once.

      “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m fine,” Natalie murmured, barely holding down a rising tide of emotion. “We’ll be out of here in just a moment, Erma.”

      “No problem. Like I said, I’m sorry for interrupting. Are you sure you’re okay?” She felt regretful for the anxiety in Erma’s voice. Natalie’s mother had been a cleaning lady and she was always extra considerate and respectful of Erma, knowing from experience how exhausting and solitary the work could be.

      “I’m fine, Erma,” she said, using all her effort to keep her voice even. She kept her face averted. “Really, I am.”

      Natalie heard the door shut. She jerked her arm, suddenly wild to get away from Liam, all of her usual tight control evaporating to mist. A sound of misery escaped her throat when instead of releasing her, he embraced her.

      Chapter Two

      “Calm down,” he said near her ear. “It’s okay.”

      The unexpected eruption of emotion that shuddered through her flesh mortified and bewildered her. Plenty of people had looked at her face before. Plastic surgeons and doctors had scrutinized it, photographed it and even written medical journal articles on it. Townspeople constantly cast curious, furtive glances her way at the grocery or drugstore.

      Why was she crying just because Liam had seen her scars?

      Maybe it was because none of those other people pinned her with such a piercing, honest gaze that made her feel so exposed.

      “Just leave, please,” she muttered as she tried to pry herself out of his arms.

      “Okay. Okay, I’ll go. But give me a second.”

      Natalie paused in her struggling. Her breath seemed to burn in her lungs at the sensation of his long, jeans-covered thighs pressing against her own. It was a new experience for her, to be held against such a virile man. Her thoughts seemed to flit around her head like panicked moths trying to escape from her skull.

      He cradled her jaw. She went entirely still when he brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek. The movement mesmerized her, and she stared fixedly at his chest, afraid to raise her gaze, but never so aware of another human being in her life.

      “The bright light hurts your eye?” Liam stated more than asked.

      “You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she blurted out angrily.

      “I wasn’t feeling sorry for you,” he said, sounding slightly insulted. “I asked you a simple question. If we’re going to be working together, I want to know.”

      “The muscles are weak in my left eye,” she murmured after a moment, contrite for her defensive reaction. “It tires easily. СКАЧАТЬ