Up Close And Personal. Lynn Raye Harris

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СКАЧАТЬ there another woman? A jealous ex, perhaps?”

      “There’s always a jealous ex. But why would anyone care enough to be so cruel when we’re no longer together? We weren’t even very serious, but then I got pregnant and—”

      “And what?” he prompted when she didn’t continue.

      She bent forward as if she were in pain, rocked back and forth, her face turned away from him. It alarmed him. His throat felt tight as he waited.

      A sob escaped her, but she stuffed her fist against her mouth and breathed hard, as if trying to cram the rest of them down deep.

      Raj put an arm around her, pulled her toward him. She turned instantly, buried her face against him.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled and broken.

      “It’s all right,” he said softly. “It’s all right.”

      A lump formed in his throat as he watched the lights of storefronts go by. He had no idea where they were, or how long they were silent, before she pushed away from him and dabbed her eyes.

      As if she hadn’t just cried her heart out. As if she hadn’t turned to him for comfort while she did so.

      She was an enigma to him. Soft and hard at once. Strong and weak. Filled with sadness and pain. Not at all what he’d expected from the party girl in the tabloids.

      If anything, he realized how very fragile she was beneath the layers of steel she cloaked herself in. He had no right to try and break through those barriers.

      “I lost the baby soon after I learned I was pregnant,” she said. She shook her head, swallowed hard. He could hear the audible gulp as she pushed her sobs down deep again. But then she speared him with a look. “I won’t break, Raj. I’m stronger than you think. And I won’t let anyone use this to stop me from doing what’s best for Aliz.”

      Her mind worked much more quickly than he’d given her credit for only yesterday, when he’d watched her work the crowd from his position in the bar. He’d thought her pampered and shallow, but he had to admit that she had depths he’d never guessed at.

      “Who is the woman in the tabloid reports?” he asked. “Because I can hardly credit she’s the same person as the woman sitting beside me now.”

      “Oh, no, she’s definitely the same. Some of it is exaggerated, of course. But much of it is true.” He wondered if she knew she was rubbing her thumb along the underside of his palm. The pressure was light, but it made him want to strip her glove off and see what her touch would feel like on his skin.

      “I can hardly believe it,” he said, trying to lighten the conversation once more.

      “That was my version of acting out,” she said quietly. “My rebellion against my father. The worse I behaved, the angrier he got. Did you ever act out, Raj?”

      Her question surprised him. A dart of pain caught him behind the breastbone. “I think everyone has,” he said.

      Except that he hadn’t. Not really.

      He’d always had to be the adult in the house, especially once his mother started experimenting with drugs the summer he turned twelve. If he hadn’t made sure they had food and a roof over their heads, however temporary, they’d have starved or frozen to death.

      He’d known nothing but responsibility from the time he was young. He’d been stripped of a normal childhood by his mother’s addictions and constant need for attention.

      Acting out had been the furthest thing from his mind when all he’d cared about was food and shelter. Not that he could admit that to Veronica. It made him seem pitiful—and he definitely wasn’t pitiful.

      “Yes, I suppose so,” she said. “Some of us worse than others, perhaps. But those days are over now, at least for me. I have too many things I want to do in life. I’ve wasted enough time.”

      Raj stifled a laugh. “You’re twenty-eight and the president of your nation. How have you wasted time?”

      Her smile was unexpected. It shook at the corners, as if she were still on the verge of tears.

      It made him want to kiss her again. A white-hot bolt of need shot through him as he watched her mouth.

      “That’s true, yes. But I’m realizing what I really want. I’m only sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

      “And what is it you want, Veronica?” Because he knew what he wanted right this minute. He wouldn’t act on it, of course. Kissing her at the party had been one thing. Kissing her now that they were alone was another altogether.

      “You will laugh.”

      “I won’t.”

      “You will, but it’s okay. I want a home. A real home, with a family. Maybe it’ll just be a cat or a dog, or maybe I’ll find a man I adore, who adores me in return. But I want the dream, the happy-ever-after where I like who I am and someone agrees with me.”

      Raj swallowed. Home. Family. He had no idea what those things were, really, other than a roof and four walls, and people whose happiness and welfare you were responsible for. “It’s a nice dream. I hope you get it.”

      “You think it’s ridiculous,” she said.

      “No.”

      “You do.”

      He sighed. “It’s not that. It’s just that I doubt you’ve ever been without a home. You want to imbue the word with more than it needs. You want it to fulfill you emotionally when, really, that is your responsibility.”

      Her thumb had stilled in his palm. Gently, she disentangled her hand from his and he knew he’d gone too far. Or maybe he’d gone far enough. It was better if she had no illusions about him. Better if they nipped this growing attraction in the bud and kept their relationship on the professional level it was meant to remain on.

      “You’re a cynic,” she said. “I hadn’t realized it.”

      “Not a cynic. A realist. Home isn’t a magical place. It’s shelter. It’s having enough to eat, being warm. You have always had these things in abundance. Not everyone is so lucky.”

      She bowed her head. “No, you’re right. I’ve never gone without the necessities. But I was talking of something more. Something intangible.”

      The car drew to a halt then and the door opened. They’d arrived back at the hotel she’d moved to earlier in the day. He thought he should say something more, should soothe her somehow—but he was at a loss. Instead, he exited and held his hand out for her.

      “I thought you would understand,” she said as she joined him on the curb, gazing up at him, her lovely face puzzled.

      “I do,” he said, because he had to say something. “I just don’t happen to agree. Be thankful you’ve never slept on the street, or wondered where your next meal was coming from. Be thankful you’ve never had to fight for a dirty blanket to keep warm with because it was that or nothing. You are free to be СКАЧАТЬ