Broken Heart. Laura Browning

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СКАЧАТЬ the bay, someplace where she could let her hair down and find out for once who Stacey Barlow-Barrett was.

      * * * *

      Jason started in surprise when Justin walked into his office, carefully shutting and locking the door behind him. He was even more surprised when he walked right around the desk, pulled Jace to his feet and kissed him. He responded, as he always did, but eventually pulled back enough to ask, “What are you doing here?”

      “I’ve found a doc in New York who will see you over the weekend.”

      Jace shook his head. “It’s no use, Justin. Come on.”

      Justin knelt in front of him. “Give it a shot, Jace. What can it hurt? It would give you a chance to have your own child.”

      “I’m supposed to go sailing with Stacey.”

      “Tell her something came up. This guy’s a male fertility specialist. He’s doing me a favor because he’s a friend of the family. You owe me this, Justin. You know I’m willing to help if I have to, but this might make it unnecessary. Please.”

      Justin’s hands were moving along his thighs, making it difficult for him to think, making his heart pound with desire. How much easier would everything be if he could manage to look his family in the eye and admit the love of his life wasn’t Stacey Barlow-Barrett? It wasn’t any woman. It was Justin Worthington and it had been ever since they’d first seen each other at summer camp when they were teenagers.

      * * * *

      Mason congratulated himself as he drove to his house nestled beside a quiet cove. He had gone an entire week without seeing Stacey. Oh, she’d been inside the gallery a time or two, but Mason had made sure he was occupied elsewhere–like in his office with the door closed–and had managed to avoid her.

      Now he was going to enjoy the weekend. He’d spend the night in his house, then sail the dinghy around to the marina tomorrow morning. From there he’d take his big boat out. Maybe spend the night anchored in some isolated cove. He sighed in anticipation of the relaxation. He’d never sailed a day in his life until he went to Harvard, then in looking for a job that would allow him to earn some spending money, he’d landed a spot helping to crew for a weekend sailor. As soon as he’d seen the wind in the sails and felt the roll of the deck beneath his feet, he’d been hooked. It had taken some time to get his own boat, but he’d built his way up just like he had with his business, buying a smaller craft in need of restoration that he’d eventually sold for larger and larger vessels.

      At the last minute, Mason changed his mind about the house and decided he’d head straight for the boat. Recalling how he’d gotten started sailing had increased his longing to simply do it. After a stop to stock groceries, he hit the marina right at dusk. As he made his second trip from his car to the boat, he glanced over at the next row of slips to the boat he knew belonged to Stacey. A light was on. Was she there with her husband? Somehow, he doubted it. He’d heard through Lucy and Brandon that Winchester wasn’t keen on sailing, although he did enjoy fishing, so apparently it wasn’t a seasickness issue.

      So was she there alone? Feeling pathetically like a stalker, he sat on deck with a beer in one hand, watching her boat. A short time later, the light went out, and it was only Stacey who appeared on deck. She hopped off the boat, her long legs left bare by her shorts, striding toward the marina office, ice bucket in hand. Oh yeah. Now he had an excuse, and by God he would take it. After spending time trying to avoid her, Mason was determined to run into her here where there was no one else they knew, no prying eyes to watch. No husband to be the excuse not to talk to him.

      He wanted answers. After nearly two years, he wanted to know what had made her turn from what they had to the jackass she’d married. He prayed to God it had been more than a pedigree dangled in front of her. Hell, he’d have more respect for her if she told him she’d married Winchester for his money.

      He nearly changed his mind when he saw her turn from the ice machine. Her shoulders were slumped, as if she had admitted defeat or simply caved in. Before he could say anything, she spotted him standing a few feet away. The evening breeze lifted her hair, which hung loose for once, the tips just brushing the swells of her breasts. It was like watching a set change at a theater production. The narrow shoulders squared, the chin lifted, and her expression cloaked itself in the same haughtiness he’d seen the first day they’d met. But this time was different. This time, Mason knew there was a passionate woman underneath her brittle veneer, a woman who right now was in pain.

      “Stacey, how are you?” He asked the usual social kiss-off question, but he wanted to know, didn’t want a throwaway answer.

      But it was what he got.

      “Fine. Thank you for asking.” She started forward to move past him. “If you’ll excuse me?”

      He stepped into her path. “No, I don’t think I will. Excuse you, that is.”

      She wouldn’t look him in the eye, which might have been the very reason he noticed the faint circles, like bruises, in the delicate skin below her golden irises.

      “Please, Mason,” she whispered, “I can’t take your sniping. Could you…please, could you just not?”

      He took another step closer. “I don’t want to…snipe. What’s wrong, honey?”

      He watched the muscles in her throat work as she gulped. She raised her free hand to smooth a lock of hair off her face, and he noticed the tremor in her hand.

      “Talk to me, Stacey.”

      Her lips pressed together, and she shook her head. “I-I can’t, Mason.”

      He didn’t want her to go, needed to find some way to keep her near him. “Are you taking your boat out?”

      She glanced behind her to where it rocked. This time her chin quivered. “I was supposed to.” Her voice was a whisper again. “I’ve got some logistical issues. Jace was supposed to crew, but something came up at the last minute…” Her voice trailed away. Mason could imagine what had happened, but he bit back his response. She turned a bright, brittle smile on him. “But hey, I still have a great weekend away from the capital.”

      “Come with me,” he offered.

      She started to shake her head. “It wouldn’t…”

      “We’ll do day sails. I’ll come back in tomorrow night. I was going to spend the night anchored in a cove, but we can come back so you can sleep aboard your boat. No strings, Stacey. Just a chance to relax.”

      He was tempting her. He could see it in the way her eyes darted longingly to his boat. There was nothing better than feeling the wind and the tilt of the deck.

      “She’s fast,” he added. “Faster than Bran’s boat. I’ve beaten him both times he’s challenged me.”

      He watched her thumb twisting nervously at her wedding and engagement bands. Finally, she smiled. “I’d like that.”

      “Come on over at eight. We’ll spend the day on the water.”

      She nodded, said good night and padded back toward her boat. It was only then he noticed she was barefoot. Sexy. It was something out of the norm for the always-correct Stacey Barlow-Barrett Winchester. Maybe the woman he’d made love to was still in there somewhere.

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