“Tell me this is a lie,” she demanded. “Tell me I’m lying about what happens whenever you kiss me. Tell me this isn’t real.”

It took endless seconds for her words to penetrate. The instant they did, he swore viciously. “Not again.”

“Yes, again.” She wiggled out from underneath him and shot to her feet. “Do you think I want it to happen? You’re Leigh’s husband. I’ve never before wanted anything that belonged to her. But you—” Her voice broke and she turned away.

“I never belonged to her.”

“You were married to her.” She lifted a shoulder in a disconsolate shrug. “There’s not much difference as far as I can tell.”

He stood, aware that nothing he could do or say would restore order to his world. He wanted a woman he didn’t trust, probably would have made love to her again if she hadn’t put a stop to it before it went any further. He’d already had his life turned upside down once, courtesy of his former wife. He wasn’t about to let it happen again.

“I don’t belong to any woman. And I never will.”

“A lone wolf to the end?” she whispered.

“It’s better than the alternative.”

With that he turned and left. And all the while his palm burned in protest.

Ten

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Larkin spent the night curled up in the middle of the bed counting the minutes until dawn.

Rafe was right about one thing. She should have told him she was Leigh’s sister—half sister—right from the start. That had been the plan all along. If only she hadn’t gotten distracted. No, time to face the truth. She hadn’t been all that distracted. She hadn’t wanted to reveal her identity to him because living the lie had filled her with more joy than she’d ever before experienced.

She swiped at her cheeks, despising the fact that they were damp with tears. She’d discovered at an early age that feeling sorry for herself didn’t help. Nor did it change anything. Not that she had much to feel sorry about. She’d had Gran, who’d been a wonderful substitute parent.

Even so, she’d be kidding herself if she didn’t acknowledge that some small part of her felt as though she were always on the outside looking in. That she’d never quite measured up. More than anything, she’d wanted to be loved by her mother. To belong. To have known the love of a father, as well. Instead, what had Leigh called her? A Mistake. Capital A. Capital M. Underlined and italicized. As a result, Larkin had held men at a distance, determined not to visit upon a new generation the same mistakes of her parents. If you didn’t fall in love, you couldn’t create A Mistake.

But her lack of a real family, a “normal” family, one that consisted of more than a loving grandmother, had filled her with an intense restlessness, a need to belong. Somewhere. To someone. To find the elusive dream of hearth and home and family. To finally fit in. But how did you find that when you were too wary to let people approach? Beside her, Kiko whimpered and bellied in closer.

“I know I wasn’t a mistake, any more than you were,” she told the dog. “We just don’t quite fit in anywhere. We’re unique. Special. Caught between two worlds, neither of our own making.”

But no matter how hard her grandmother had tried to convince her of that fact and fill her life with love, there’d always been a part of her that had conceded there was a certain element of truth to Leigh’s words. Bottom line… She wasn’t good enough for her mother to keep. She’d been thrown away. Dispensable.

Until Rafe.

For a brief shining time she’d discovered what it meant to belong to a family, one who’d welcomed her with open arms. Until she’d ruined it. “I should have told him.” Kiko whined in what Larkin took as agreement. “But then he’d never have made love to me. And I’d never have fallen in love with him.”

Tears escaped no matter how hard she tried to prevent them. It was worth it, she kept repeating to herself. No matter how badly it ended, the days she’d had with Rafe were worth the agony to come. If she had to do it all over again, she would.

Without a minute’s hesitation.




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