Shattered. Joan Johnston

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      7

      “This plane is bad!” Lucky said, grinning broadly as he stepped inside Wyatt’s luxurious Gulfstream 550 business jet.

      By which Wyatt knew his son meant the plane was “neat” or “cool” or one of the myriad other phrases his generation had used to sound “hip.”

      “It’s a jet, stupid,” Chance said as he clambered onto the camel-colored leather couch that took up part of one wall toward the rear of the plane. He leaned over to peer through a porthole window and said, “How far can we fly before we have to stop, Mr. Shaw?”

      “She’ll go seven thousand seven hundred and fifty nautical miles without a fill-up,” Wyatt replied with a smile. He was going to have to think of something else to have his sons call him besides “Mr. Shaw.” And he would rather his sons didn’t call each other stupid. But there would be plenty of time to correct them, after they learned he was their father.

      And that he loved them. Had loved them from the moment he’d seen their images in a photograph and learned of their existence. And that he would always love them. For themselves, of course, and because they had brought him back together with their mother.

      Wyatt had felt poleaxed when he’d realized that the mother of his children was the woman with whom he’d spent a single, life-altering night nine years before. That woman had shared herself without holding back, then stolen away like a thief in the dark, taking his heart with her.

      He shouldn’t have been surprised when the anonymous woman disappeared or when she was impossible to find. He’d felt the rings on her finger the moment she’d grasped his hand. He’d known she was someone else’s wife, that she’d chosen him at random for a night of sex. He hadn’t asked her reasons and she hadn’t offered any.

      He hadn’t asked her name or given her his.

      She’d nearly chickened out when the elevator doors opened on the penthouse floor. Her chin had wobbled, and she’d looked up at him with anxious blue eyes. He’d led her directly to the bedroom, hoping that her nerve would hold a little longer.

      The bed had already been turned down, and the only light on the pure white sheets had come from the full moon outside. He’d taken her in his arms while she was still fully clothed and felt her tremble in his embrace. She’d made a mewing sound as he slid his open hand down to her hips and pulled her close enough to feel the heat and hard length of him.

      But she didn’t try to pull free. Instead, she breathed in the scent of him as she slid her palms up over his shoulders. He could remember feeling gooseflesh rise on his arms as she teased her fingers through the hair that fell onto his nape and then tugged his head down toward hers.

      He remembered the soft weight of her breasts, and then their pebbled tips against his chest, as she leaned into him and raised her lips for his kiss.

      That first kiss—

      “Wow!” Chance said, tugging on Wyatt’s hand and putting an abrupt end to his erotic daydream. “We could probably go all the way to China in this plane!”

      “Yes, we could,” he agreed. Before he could say more, the boy was off to investigate more of the plane.

      Wyatt’s gaze shot to the door. He’d boarded after the twins but before Kate, who’d stayed behind with Bruce to remove some items from her luggage before it was loaded into the baggage compartment. He wondered what was holding her up.

      He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, loosened the top couple of buttons on his shirt and folded up the sleeves. He was standing slightly hunched near the cockpit door, so his head didn’t hit the 6’2” ceiling. It was the only thing he didn’t love about the sixty-million-dollar jet, which had actually taken him to China and back several times over the past six months. Unfortunately, the next size up jet with the headroom he needed was a Boeing 737.

      Kate suddenly appeared in the doorway. She glared at him—a far cry from the yearning look he’d been remembering—then glanced over her shoulder at Bruce, СКАЧАТЬ