Real Men Don't Quit (18 page)

“Yes, moppet?” he said absentmindedly as he concentrated on the safety harness.

“Can you be my pretend daddy?”

The innocent words slammed into his chest. For a few seconds he couldn’t breathe before the bruising air rushed painfully into his lungs. As he struggled for an answer, Chloe continued to look at him, her eyes wide and trusting.

“Why would you want that?” he croaked out.

The girl played with his tie. “’Cause my daddy can’t be with me, but you can, and I like you.”

“Thank you, moppet. I like you, too.” He hauled in another breath. “But I can’t be your pretend daddy.”
Or any other kind of daddy
.

“Why not?”

The back of his neck prickled. “Uh, because daddies have to stick around, and I can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” For a terrifying moment he feared she would crumple into tears, but after a short contemplation, she shrugged her shoulders. “Okay,” she said cheerfully before turning her attention back to her pink pony.

Feeling like he’d been sucker punched, he fastened the safety harness and straightened up from the car. He hoped like hell Chloe wouldn’t repeat her request to Tyler. Though maybe she already had. Hell and damnation. Chloe was bright and adorable, but he couldn’t have her making assumptions and asking difficult questions. Or putting ideas in Tyler’s head.

Damn, that was pathetic of him, but his disquiet continued to squall. He rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt this panicked since he’d cottoned on to the plans Jennifer had for the two of them. Her dreams of marriage and parenthood had closed in on him like padded walls, suffocating him. He’d fought his way out of that cell only to stumble into another ambush. What was wrong with him?

The neat row of houses opposite the park taunted him. Three-bedroom homes, lawnmowers, barbecues, tricycles and hula hoops, dogs and cats, football on Sundays—that was what being a dad meant. Fatherhood was as perplexing to him as calculus, and he’d rather avoid it than risk screwing up and hurting people, like his dad had. Fatherhood was a closed club that would never grant him membership.

He got into the driver’s seat and turned on the air-conditioning, but the cold blast did little to cool him. Impatient to be off, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the minutes ticked by. Eventually Tyler hurried to the car, her lavender dress whirling above her knees as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” she said breathlessly.

The flash of her bare thigh seared into his brain, followed quickly by her swirling red hair, parted lips, and heaving breasts. Was she wearing purple underwear again? Goddamn it, why did she have to be so titillating? He pulled off sharply, the wheels of the car squealing.

“What’s got into you?” Tyler exclaimed as she clung onto her seat.

“Nothing.” But he couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice. When she frowned, he was reminded of Chloe sitting in the back and instantly slowed the car down.

“Luke, I’m sorry for letting Chloe monopolize you so long,” Tyler said, her voice halting. “It must have been tedious for you to carry her around all that time.”

Christ, why did she have to make him feel even more of a heel? “No need to apologize,” he gruffly replied. “It wasn’t tedious.”

She didn’t say anything, instead toying with the filmy skirt of her dress and licking her lips. His blood pounded even as he wrenched his gaze from her. He wanted to get away, yet at the same time he couldn’t stop staring at Tyler. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her nervously playing with her clothes. Her skittishness was out of character. She seemed fidgety, uncomfortable in his presence.

During the second half of the party, they’d barely been alone. Tyler had always kept them part of one group or another, and there were plenty of men eager to talk to her. In fact, she’d appeared to encourage them, so much so that Luke had felt the first stirrings of jealousy. Why had she acted like that? His already perturbed thoughts spun into further turmoil.

At last they made it to her house, and he pulled into the driveway with a sense of relief. All he had to do was help Chloe out of the car and then he could go. But did he really want to do that? Just because Chloe was getting the wrong idea about him didn’t mean Tyler was. Maybe he was overreacting about a three-year-old’s passing remark.

“I’ll get Chloe.” Tyler snapped off her seat belt as soon as he’d braked. “You probably want to head next door and have a quiet night for a change.”

Hell, did she
want
him gone? Now he was even more confused. Between his warring emotions and her jitters he didn’t know what to think. He climbed out the car and opened the rear door. “She’s fast asleep,” he said, nodding at Chloe’s slumped form. “I’ll carry her inside and put her to bed.”

“No, I can do that myself.” Tyler jostled him out of the way as she reached for the buckle of the safety harness.

He grunted in frustration before a voice from behind brought him up short.

“So, Maguire, I’ve finally run you to ground.”

The drawling voice with its petulant undertone made Luke’s spine stiffen. He turned. His heart sank as he saw a tall, spindly man with black spectacles sauntering down the driveway toward them.

Elliot Elliston. His agent, and just about the last person he wanted to see right now.

Chapter Thirteen

“You’re shitting me, right?” Elliot gaped at Luke, his eyebrows shooting up above the thick-rimmed spectacles.

They were standing in Elliot’s living room, and Luke had just informed his agent that there was no chance of him completing the Kingsley Jeffers sequel.

“’Fraid not.” Luke sighed. “I’m sorry, Elliot, but I just can’t write another word about that pretentious jerk.”

The other man’s long, thin face flushed. “That ‘pretentious jerk’ has put you on the bestseller lists. That ‘pretentious jerk’ is worth a fortune to you.”

And you, too
. But Luke held back the retort. “I know that, but I can’t force it. I can’t write something I don’t believe in.”

“Frigging hell! What’s that got to do with anything?” Puce to his hairline, the agent jabbed an accusing finger at Luke’s chest. “You owe me, you bastard. Jesus Christ! I’ve been babysitting you for the past six months. I got you an extension on your deadline. I offered you my house so you could write in peace. I’ve been copping all the flak from your publisher, and now you come up with this shit? Maguire, you don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Luke swatted the man’s fingers away. “Are you threatening me?” he said, his voice deceptively mild.

“You bet I am. Publishing’s a small world, mate. You make a bad reputation for yourself, pretty soon everyone will hear of it, and doors will start shutting faster than you can blink. And then it won’t matter how good your writing is because no one will want to work with you. I’ll make damn sure of that.”

Luke’s fist twitched. What wouldn’t he give to drive it into this sneering moron’s face. But he held his right arm rigid against his side. “I don’t respond well to threats.” He kept his tone low, controlled, hoping the situation could still be salvaged. “If you give me a few days, I can send you the first three chapters of my new book. I think you might find it—”

“Unless it’s about Kingsley Jeffers, I don’t give a damn.” Spittle flew from the agent’s lips as he jutted his head forward. “And no one else will either. If you don’t hand in that sequel, you’ll have to repay your advance—plus my fifteen percent, because I’m sure as hell not handing that back.”

Luke’s fist itched even more. But he couldn’t walk out on his agent without at least trying to patch things up, even if the guy didn’t deserve it.

“Look, why don’t we give ourselves a couple of days to calm down? I understand your frustration, but when you read the new stuff I’ve been writing, you might change your mind. How about it, Elliot?”

“No frigging way. You deliver the book you’re contracted to, or it’s over between us.”

Luke grimaced. “Don’t you understand? I can’t write the sequel.”

“Then you and I are through.”

Luke felt his teeth grind together.

“Yeah, we’re through.” Elliot smirked. “You’ll be just another penniless writer. That won’t go down so well, huh?”

The man was a jerk and an idiot. Even after repaying the advance, Luke would still have an income from his royalties, and he didn’t exactly have an extravagant lifestyle. But royalties were unpredictable, and without knowing how long it would take to finish his new book and find a publisher, he’d have to be more circumspect with his money, especially as he was now paying his father’s rent. But if it meant he’d be free of Kingsley Jeffers and this nauseating twit, then it would be worth every penny-pinching moment.

“I’ll get by,” he said. “I did it before I met you, and I can do it again.”

“Oh yeah? Well, can you get by without any favors from me?” Elliot smeared the back of his hand across his sweaty upper lip. “I want you out of my house by the time I get back to Sydney, or I’m calling the cops.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

His ice-cold control was obviously getting to Elliot. Damp patches broke out on the man’s shirt as he waved his hands about and shouted, “You’re nothing but a washed-up hack! Why don’t you admit that instead of pretending you’ve been writing? I know what you’ve really been doing. You’ve been hitting on the hot chick next door, haven’t you? Yeah, she’s a bit of a tease, that Tyler— Urgh…”

The man gargled as Luke’s fist collided with his chin. Stunned, Luke watched the guy stagger back under the impact. He hadn’t even realized his fist was moving until it made contact.

“You…you…” Elliot swallowed convulsively, cringing as he nursed his jaw.

Luke’s knuckles were beginning to ache, but aside from his reflex reaction, he hadn’t lost his self-control. Yet. If the jackass mentioned Tyler again, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

He took a step forward, and Elliot cowered against the couch. “You’d better leave,” Luke said.

Elliot scuttled for the door. When he was safely out of reach, he snarled over his shoulder, “Make sure you’re gone by tonight,” before he ducked out of sight.

Alone, Luke exhaled, becoming conscious that his body was tight as a drum and seething with blistering fury. He pulled off his jacket and hurled it across the room, quickly followed by his tie. A crazy urge to tear the room apart grabbed him. God, how he hated the smugness of this place, its fussy minimalism and self-satisfied air. He wanted to trash the place. He seized the only cushion allowed on the couch and hurled it to the polished wooden floor. Not even vaguely satisfying.

He stalked over to the table and began packing up his laptop. It wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to clear his stuff out of here and leave. He had a few things over at Tyler’s house to collect, too—

He stopped short.
Tyler
.

What was he going to tell her? The blood ebbed away from his skin, leaving him cold and raw. In his anger he’d forgotten about her, but now he couldn’t move, couldn’t get past the repulsive truth squatting in front of him like some giant, wart-spotted toad.

He needed to leave Tyler.

He had no other choice. The fight with Elliot had only brought forward a decision he’d known he’d have to make from the first time he’d slept with Tyler. What they had was special and far more important than any of his other fleeting liaisons, but the end result would be the same. No matter how his heart reacted at the sight of her or how he much he enjoyed being with her or how he’d even begun to like her cluttered, messy home, he couldn’t be with her.

Choking emotion rushed over him, sharp and bitter. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes, fighting against the pain. It would pass. Elliot’s visit was a blessing in disguise. Better to stop things now before they got too complicated.

…

The afternoon of wedding cake, lemonade, and playmates had finally caught up with Chloe, leaving her whiny and tired. Tyler cuddled with her on the couch under a worn blanket while she read her favorite books.

It wasn’t only her daughter who needed comforting. Luke had been so abrupt on the drive home, and his agent’s arrival had made him even chillier. Elliot Elliston had barely acknowledged her, and he hadn’t seemed pleased to see Luke either. Which meant he was only down here for one reason—to chew Luke out for not handing in his expected sequel.

She hugged her daughter closer, seeking out the reassurance of her warm, little body. Chloe started to nod off and was already asleep when there was a quick tap at the door. When she opened it and found Luke there, the bleak lines on his face racked her nerves to breaking point.

“Luke.” Instinctively she reached for him, but his barren eyes repelled her, and she dropped her hand to her side. “What happened? Is Elliot gone?”

He nodded. “Looks like we’ve parted ways for good.”

Her heart sank. “Oh no.”

“Threats never work with me.” He kneaded the knuckles of his right hand, and she wondered if they’d come to blows. But before she could ask, he continued. “Anyway, the upshot is I’ve cleared my stuff out of his house.”

“Oh.” How dimwitted she was. Of course Luke couldn’t remain in his agent’s house. “No problem. You can stay here. With me.” The words left her lips before she could think.

He stilled, his eyes fixed on her. “Stay with you?” he repeated with heavy emphasis.

“Yes. For as long as you like.” Her heart began to thud in her ears. “I know I’m a bit messy, but there’s plenty of space.” She paused, but he didn’t say anything, and perspiration prickled her underarms. “Uh…you could turn the garden shed into your writing studio if you like.”

He stared at her a few more moments. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”

“Sure. You need a place to stay and—”

“What about Chloe? You’ve never had a man share your home since she was born. Hell, you kick me out of bed every morning before she wakes up. How’s she going to react to me moving in?”

As she swallowed, her heart raced even faster. The thought of Luke moving in with her and Chloe filled her with jumbled emotions, but through the confusion came one solid fact—she wanted him to stay like she’d never wanted anything in the world. To have him in her life every day, to share her ups and downs with him, to revel in his strength and intelligence, to fight with him and make love with him, to share everything she had with him, that was all she ever wanted, ever needed.

She was in love with Luke. Deep, fathoms deep in love, down where all the sea monsters lurked. The realization doused her in icy fear, but she clung to her sanity.

“I—I don’t know how she’ll react, but I’ll find a way to explain it to her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t feel left out or neglected, and—”

“Stop.” He held up his hand to halt her. Her throat dried as he shoved his fingers through his hair violently, as if he wanted to punish himself. When he lifted his head, his eyes were bloodshot and hard as marbles. “You don’t seem to understand what’s happened. I’ve walked away from my publishing contract. My agent doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m on my own now, just me and my writing.”

Her heart seemed to be stuck in her throat.
Just me and my writing
. Luke was carving out his space, marking the boundaries, and making sure she knew it. Luke might like her, but he didn’t love her, not as much as he loved his independence. She knew that, had always known it, but she hadn’t expected it would hurt this much.

“I was j-just offering you a place until you got back on your feet.” Somehow she forced the words out of a throat raw with unshed tears. “I w-wasn’t expecting anything in return.” Oh God, why couldn’t she keep the stutter from her voice?

Luke stared grimly at her. “This afternoon I regained a big chunk of my self-respect. I’m not going to squander it by mooching off you.”

Gulping, she made herself flick back her hair. “Who said anything about mooching? I expect you to share expenses.”

“Tyler…”

He rubbed his hands across his face, emerging with an exhausted expression that made her lungs constrict. Was she just the final item on his list to be ticked off before he made his escape? She had only been a pleasant interlude, a bonus that came with the agent’s house, and now that he’d split with his agent he didn’t want to hang around anymore.

Luke was the rolling stone who traveled light. Whatever couldn’t fit in his car had to be ditched. How could she and Chloe, with all their clutter, hope to squeeze into his Range Rover?
Big dummy
. From the start she’d known they didn’t have a future together, but somehow she’d forgotten and stupidly allowed herself to fall in love with him. It wasn’t his fault. He’d never given her any false promises, and she wouldn’t let him regret the little time they’d spent together by laying yet another messy breakup on him.

“Where will you go?” As soon as she spoke, her stomach dropped. She’d accepted he was leaving. She wouldn’t make things uglier for him.

His eyebrows drew together in a grim frown. He didn’t look as relieved as she thought he would. “I’ll probably go back to my mother’s house for now.”

“Makes sense.” She gripped her hands behind her back, digging her fingernails into her palms. “Now that you don’t have to write your sequel. And you still need to sort out your father.”

“Yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he exhaled a deep gust. “Tyler, I’m sorry—”

“For what? Leaving?” She lifted her shoulders. “I always knew sooner or later you were going to, so there’s no need to apologize.”

“Don’t be so bloody understanding.”

“Would you rather I made a scene?” Her fingernails were so embedded in her flesh her palms must be bleeding, but she kept her gaze on him, determined not to lose her composure, her dignity.

“Maybe.”

“I’d oblige, but Chloe’s dozing in the living room, and I don’t want her upset.”

He grimaced, eyes pitch black. “I feel like a coward leaving without saying good-bye to her.”

“She’s young. A week from now, she won’t remember.”

The lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “Maybe I’ll drop in sometime when I’m settled—”

“Don’t,” she said more sharply than she’d intended. “You’re leaving, and that’s fine. I always knew we were temporary. But don’t confuse matters by dropping in.”

He compressed his lips. “I thought we could at least still be friends.”

Friends!
How dare he? Here she was breaking up inside like a leaf in a storm, and he wanted to be friends?
To hell with that
, she felt like yelling at him. But he didn’t know how she really felt about him;
she
had broken the rules, not he.

“We can be cyber friends if you like. After all, you won’t be at your mother’s place for long. You’ll be wandering off soon, I expect.”

“I suppose so.” His eyes grew even bleaker, and she wished she could read his mind. What was he thinking? Would she ever understand him? He squared his shoulders. “I guess this is good-bye, then.”

Her knees trembled, and she had to lean against the door to stop herself from crumpling. “Yeah…” She wrung the syllable past the spiked knot in her throat.

He hesitated, his unreadable eyes pinned on her. Did he want to kiss her? Pat her shoulder? Shake her hand? Damn it, she didn’t want any of that. Summoning all her strength, she stepped back, away from him, and held on to the door.

“Look after yourself,” she said in a dry rasp.