Melting Into You (Due South Book 2) (37 page)

He straightened. “I want full legal custody.”

“You contact your lawyer, and I won’t stand in your way.” She cocked a hip. “I still want to see her from time to time. Do the fun stuff, you know, shopping trips, make-up, fashion, etcetera—the kind of stuff your gumboot-wearing, Italian girlfriend won’t be able to help her with.” A plucked eyebrow arched up at him.

He thought it prudent to refrain from saying he hoped Kezia never gave a crap about shopping trips, make-up, and fashion. “We’ll work something out.”

“Speaking of your girlfriend…she seems like a nice lady. Is it serious?”

He didn’t know how serious it was any more. “The whole possibility of marrying you may’ve screwed things up.”

Marci giggled her signature giggle and slapped his arm. “Nah, you’ll talk her round. You’re not the cold-hearted jerk I first thought you were. You’re kind of sweet—like a big teddy bear.”

Oh, God
. Kill him. Kill him now. “A big teddy bear. Yeah, you nailed it.” He tried to keep his smile patient, when really, he wanted to get his lawyer on the phone ASAP.

“Sure this is what you want, Marci?”

She frowned a little. “Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

“Hell, no. But for Jade’s sake—for all of our sakes—you need to be a hundred per cent sure if you walk away.”

“I only came back for her out of duty and guilt. I don’t regret letting Simon take Blake—a boy should be with his dad—but with Jade?” She sighed. “I thought if she came with me, I’d lose the guilt and want to do the whole Earth Mother thing. Turns out, nope, I don’t.” She shook her head. “I won’t change my mind, because she’ll be happy here with you, and I can get on with my own life. I feel like a huge weight’s been lifted off me.”

She smiled at him, and although the spot of skin b
etween his shoulder blades crawled at Marci’s lack of emotion, he peeled his lips apart in a friendly grin and refrained from a yahooing fist-pump.

“Well, let’s go and tell Jade and Mum the good news.”

Marci wasn’t the only one with a weight gone.

Kezia
. Nothing stood in their way now, so once she got back to the island, they’d talk and everything would work out. Somehow.

Chapter 18

Kezia knew who was outside before Sparky barked and Jade’s shushing sounds came through her back door.

Oh, God
—they were here.

Zoe had been discharged from hospital earlier that day, two mornings after Ben left. Piper had collected them from the airport, filling her in on the details Shaye only mentioned over the phone: Marci had left the i
sland alone, and Ben’s lawyer was working on custody arrangements.

Kezia was happy for him, she really was.

“Come in,” she called.

Slotting the lasagna pan into the oven, Kezia na
rrowed her eyes against the blast of heat. She wouldn’t dwell on the first time Ben helped make her signature dish. His hot, sweet kisses. Her fluttery stomach, the breathless anticipation and quivering excitement. No, dwelling resulted in yearning for the past, and she’d learned her lesson this time. Learned it well.

“Hi, Kezia.” Jade ran straight to her for a hug.

“Jade,
cara
.” Kezia squeezed the girl tightly but couldn’t keep her gaze from Ben.

He leaned against the door jamb, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, wearing a chunky wool sweater that emphasized his broad shoulders. Cool brown eyes swept over her, his handsome face giving nothing away. Sparky panted at his ankles—doggishly grinning like today was the best day ever.

“Did Aunty Shaye tell you the good news?”

Kezia fixed her smile in place. “Yes, and I’m so glad you’re staying. Our class wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Ugh, school. Don’t remind me.” Jade groaned and poked out her tongue. “Can I see Zoe for a little while? Aunty Shaye said not too long ‘cause she’ll be tired.”

“A little while is fine. She’s in bed watching a movie on my laptop. You can go on through.”

“Thanks!” Jade raced out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

Kezia wiped sweaty palms down her legs. Breathe,
Kez. In, out, repeat, repeat, repeat. Absolutely pointless. One glimpse of Ben and her lungs ceased to function, and blood stampeded through her veins, straining toward him as if he exuded a gravitational pull.

They hadn’t spoken since Invercargill. Wrapped up caring for Zoe, the few times she’d left the hospital for a walk, she’d only checked her text messages and r
eturned a few missed calls. None of the messages or missed calls came from Ben. How her spirits had pathetically soared after Shaye rang with the news. How they nose-dived after she disconnected. Ben getting custody of his daughter didn’t fix the underlying issues.

“Can I come in?”

She didn’t trust her ability to speak in complete sentences without sounding breathless, so she nodded. “Coffee?”

Playing the part of a good hostess must be hered
itary. Funny—since the predisposition to fall in love with suitable men had obviously skipped a generation.

“I’ll give it a miss. You look exhausted.” He made a small sound of exasperation as Sparky sidled inside with him. “Out, girl.”

The dog whined, then trotted through the door and curled up in her usual spot.

Kezia would rather skip this conversation altogether, but it squatted like a smug elephant in her kitchen, sucking up all the oxygen. Ben turned back from clo
sing the door, his brow furrowed, his mouth a tense line.

They watched each other, and the tension crackling around the room would’ve zapped her into a boneless jellyfish if she hadn’t already been weak, hot, and qui
very deep down inside.

“Shaye told me you’d contacted your lawyer.” She turned and twisted on a tap, running cool water over her fingers. “She said since Marci’s agreeable it should be a straight-forward procedure to get custody.”

His boots scuffed across the floor. “That’s right.”

Six-foot-two of sexy-smelling, hard-muscled man stood directly behind her. Her man. No—not any more. Her gut gouged raw with grief, Kezia squeezed a dis
htowel, more to steady herself than to dry her hands. “I’m glad you got your happy outcome, Ben.”

What was her happy outcome? The Wellington job offer? She’d stared at the e-mail when they’d arrived home until her vision blurred with tears. Then she’d popped a DVD into the laptop so Zoe could watch her feel-good movie
Mary Poppins
.

Two big, warm hands spanned her waist and slid down to gently grip her hips. “It’s not happy yet. There’s the matter of you and me.”

Ben’s fingers spread wide apart. The steady pressure of his thumbs worked up her spine, snaring a gasp of pleasure from her throat. Within seconds, he had her powerless with need, begging for his touch to continue. Kezia’s hips thrust backward, her bottom meeting solid, aroused male. Oh, Sweet Mother he felt so good—and straight after that thought—
Kezia Marie Murphy, stop it! Right. Now.

She jerked forward to get away but her escape was momentary. Ben crowded closer, pinning her stomach to the counter edge.

“I was wrong.” He let go of her hips and brushed aside her hair, the warmth of his breath misting over her skin. “We’re not done. Not even close.”

“Things have changed.” She grappled to hold onto the smooth surface. Anything to resist pushing her bo
ttom against him again.

“Yeah, for the better. Marci’s not an issue anymore.”

The inner wound she’d tried to protect tore open and bled. Biting her lip, the pain sharper than the flash of need blazing along her nerve endings, Kezia wriggled out of his arms.

“Do you think we can just go back to the way we were before?”

He stared, as if her curls had sprouted into a Medusa-tangle of snakes. “Well, not exactly like before…”

“How would it be different?”

They had chemistry in spades, but hot sex and the ability to not piss each other off most of the time wasn’t a recipe for long-term success. What if in six months’ time, Marci changed her mind? What if—God forbid—Zoe’s cancer returned, and they had to move to a city with a children’s oncology ward? Would it be her instead of Marci then—forcing him to make unbearable choices?

Kezia’s stomach coiled into knots at his silence, at the lines bracketing his tightly closed mouth. She couldn’t make him choose, because what if he didn’t pick her?

“You consider marrying another woman, and after she lets you off the hook, you think we’ll pick up where we left off?” She hated her voice’s bitter edge, but she was unable to soften it.

“Marrying Marci was a last resort idea—a really bad idea—and I only considered it because I was desperate and put on the spot. After I’d time to think it through, I knew I couldn’t ever go there. I was just trying to do the right thing for Jade—”

“You were being responsible, I get it. Just like when you were twenty and you were responsible by taking care of your father’s dive business and your family. You provided for their practical needs, but were you ever there, truly
there
, when they needed more than your breadwinning capabilities or strength?”

Ben flinched, as if she’d smacked him upside the head. “This has nothing to do with us.”

“It has everything to do with us! You almost did the same thing last weekend by half convincing yourself marrying Marci would be the practical and responsible thing to do to secure Jade’s future.”

“I made the only decision I thought I could make.”

“Yes.
You
made the decision. You said
you
would take care of this. There was no
us
while you thought about marrying that woman. There was no us after you turned down my offer of financial help without discussion.” Her breathing hitched, and her hand snaked up to massage the tightness in her throat. “If it were only sex between us, I’d understand. But you told me it was more than just sex, Ben. You made me believe it was more. But then it came down to the hard stuff and you didn’t want to dirty your hands with messy emotions. You just up and walked away.”

He stepped toward her. “I didn’t walk away from you.”

“In every way that matters to me, you did.” She held a palm out to stop him coming closer, planting it on his chest.

He stopped, covering her hand with his, keeping her fingers trapped against the heat simmering through the soft wool of his jersey.

“Kezia, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I…” His brow furrowed and the tips of his ears reddened. “I, ah…” He swore softly, lifting her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. The stubble circling his mouth tickled her skin and made her pulse gallop even faster. “Kez, you must know how sorry I am, how much I want you—how much I…care about you and Zoe.” He offered up a crooked smile that two weeks ago would’ve had her dragging him into her bed.

“Of course I do.”

She waited, waited, for the words that meant something might be salvaged from this mess.

His gaze bored into her. He had beautiful eyes, gold flecked brown framed with long dark lashes. Sweet and sensitive eyes that shouldn’t belong to a man who’d shattered every last one of her dreams.

And still, Ben remained silent.

The ache in her chest spread, as if her heart had e
xpanded with hope, then suddenly compressed to the size of a marble. The heart’s a mystery—it could survive a lot of knocks and bruises and bounce back for more. She thought something so strong and resilient would make a terrible noise when it finally shattered. But no, her heart broke with a quiet snap, like the handle of brittle, porcelain teacup gripped by careless fingers.

Kezia had run out of tears. They’d all been used up during the late-night hours in Zoe’s hospital room.

He let her hand go and backed away. “You need some space, I get it.”

Kezia stared down at her Donkey slippers. Ben didn’t get it, but Donkey did—he told Shrek he was so wrapped up in layers he was afraid of his own feelings. Hah! Well, the chubby green ogre had nothing on Ben.

“I’m tired, and I can’t think straight, so yes, I’d like to be alone now.” She bent down and cracked open the oven to check the lasagna. A convenient excuse to look away. “Jade can stay awhile. I’ll send her home after the movie’s finished.”

“All right.” Footsteps crossed the wooden floor, and the door creaked. “I won’t push, but you can’t hide from me forever. I’m not walking away from you again.”

Kezia grabbed a pair of oven mitts and slid them on, determined to look busy and not as though her carefully constructed world had crumbled to ruins. If she ignored Ben, ignored the lump of dead muscle in her chest that once beat only for him, he’d leave.

The door clicked shut, and silence settled in a smothering blanket over her kitchen. A log popped in
the wood burner, and from the hallway, the faint trill of Julie Andrews singing about spoonfuls of sugar.

She must make a decision.

Take the job in Wellington and be close to Nicky and Matt, but live rudderless—a boat adrift without her Oban friends-who’d-become-family. Or stay here and squander her love on a man who clearly couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take the risk of loving her back.