1 by Spellbinder (2006)

Author:Spellbinder (2006) [Spellbinder]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-04-01T16:58:25.980000+00:00

“Why would I dump you?” she asked, stubbing out her cigarette and light•ing another—without benefit of match or lighter. He blinked at that, and she gave him a sharp little smile. “Oh, I’ll admit you look like shit and smell worse, and you’re having yourself a fine old wallow—which is fairly loathsome, but you’ll get over it.”

He rose unsteadily, looming over her, frowning, eyes kindling with anger. He swayed slightly, reeking of sweat and liquor and cigarette smoke. “You can knock it off now, Holly. Just—cut the crap and get out. I’m nothin’ you’d want—”

“You are everything I want,” she said softly, unable to help herself.

Suddenly all the fight went out of him and he slipped to his knees before her.

She had never seen his moods change so fast. His hands almost touched her, then shied back, fingers curling tight into his palms. “Holly—darlin’ Holly — ” His eyes glistened. “You can’t want me. Not now.”

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can’t want?”

“This isn’t the bargain you made. I’m not who you were gonna marry.” He gestured to himself, the room around him. “You said yes’ to somebody who had a career, a life, a future—it was bad enough before, the differences between us—but at least I had something to offer you. Now—I got nothin’. Abso-fuckin’-lutely nothin’. I’m not gonna let you chain yourself to a nothin’ like me.”

She told herself it was the booze talking, the shock, the impotent rage — anything but Evan Lachlan saying these words.

“What about my life?” she demanded. “The one I’m supposed to live with you?”

“Ain’t gonna happen. Face it, Holly—you’d be a fool to want what I am — what I’m gonna become.”

“What might that be?”

“My father.” His laugh was curt and ugly. “Old, fat, drunk, walkin’ a beat his whole goddamned Life, heart attack at forty-nine—gives me ten years, more or less, before they retire me and I sit around gettin’ fatter ‘n’ drunker an’ whinin’ about the good ol’

days. That’s my future, baby.” He waved his hand aimlessly.

She got to her feet, standing over him where he slumped on the carpet, and swore she was going to slug him if he called her baby just one more time. “Am I to understand you don’t much like the idea?”

“Not a whole bunch, no,” he replied, trying to sound as if he didn’t care.

“Then do something about it.” The way he looked up at her, perhaps it would have been kinder to hit him. She took a few steps back, taunting him: “Come on, Lachlan.

You’ve been at this routine for at least a week now. Everybody’s aware that you sulk very effectively. You’ve made your point. Now get over yourself.”

“Holly—Jesus, Holly, don’t you understand?” The cry was torn out of him, ragged, desperate. “I lost everything.”

She stood her ground. He didn’t need her tenderness; he needed her strength. “I’m staying.” Then instinct stronger than reason made her take a step backward—because he surged to his feet, powerful

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