A Question Of Love. Elizabeth SinclairЧитать онлайн книгу.
she made the mistake of making eye contact with him. The old magnetism that had drawn her to him to begin with reared its ugly head, holding her paralyzed in Matt’s gaze. All rational thought vanished.
Matt could feel the heat of her skin burning into his palms. Touching her had been a stupid move. But he couldn’t let go. No matter how hard he willed himself to do it, he could not let Honey go. For what seemed like hours they just stood there, eyes burning, chests heaving. In anger or in renewal of an old passion? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.
What he did know was that if he didn’t let her go in the next ten seconds, he’d press his lips against that sugar-sweet mouth of hers and kiss her to within an inch of her life.
That realization made him abruptly release her.
For a moment more she stood there staring at him, as if trying to find her center of balance. Then she took an unsteady step backward, one hand reaching blindly for her discarded chair, the other clutching her throat. Her chest rose and fell quickly, pressing her breasts against the thin fabric of her sundress.
“M-M-Mom?”
In unison they turned toward the doorway. Honey heard the catch in Matt’s breath. She forced her lips to curve in a smile and made her feet move to stand beside her son. “Danny, this is your dad’s cousin, your…Uncle Matt.” The control in her voice astounded her.
She waited, her breath imprisoned in her burning lungs. She watched as Matt’s gaze traveled slowly over features so like his own, and nothing like hers or Stan’s blond hair and fair skin. Did he recognize his son? Except for a twitch on the right side of his lips, he kept his emotions hidden behind an enigmatic mask.
“Shake Uncle Matt’s hand,” she forced herself to say.
“How d-d-do you d-d-do?” Danny extended his small hand.
Matt took it, his gaze never leaving the child’s face. When Matt smiled, she finally exhaled the trapped air.
“How do you do? I’m so glad to meet you.”
“W-w-why?” Danny let go of Matt’s hand.
Matt’s eyes widened, as if he was shocked by Danny’s question. He squatted down to be on the boy’s level. “Well, because your…dad and I were great friends, and I hope we can be, too.” His gaze shifted to Honey with a burning look so intense, she knew she’d counted herself safe too soon. He knew.
She looked away. “Danny, you need to get your breakfast, sweetie. The school bus will be here in a few minutes. You don’t want to be late for school on the first day of rehearsal.”
Matt stood. “Rehearsal?”
“For my s-s-school play.” Danny explained. “M-M-Mom wants m-m-me to be in it, b-b-but I—”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to.” Matt raised his eyebrows, as if in surprise. Before Honey could do it, Matt poured milk on the bowl of oat cereal dotted with tiny technicolor marshmallow stars and moons, then carried it to Danny’s place.
Danny lowered his gaze to the table. “The k-k-kids will l-l-laugh at me.”
Matt took his seat and centered his full attention on Danny. “Why would they do that?”
Honey couldn’t believe he’d asked such a question. Wasn’t it obvious Danny had a problem? Why underline it by making him explain? She stepped forward to intercede for her son.
“Because I t-t-talk funny.”
Frowning, Matt leaned back in his chair. “Do you? I hadn’t noticed. What’s funny about the way you talk?”
“That’s enough, Matt!” Honey couldn’t stand to see Danny put through this.
“It’s okay, M-M-Mom. I can tell h-h-him.”
For a moment, Honey hesitated. Then she saw Danny smile at Matt. He usually didn’t talk to strangers. This was a first. “If it’s okay with you. But you don’t have to explain to anyone,” she stated.
The boy glanced at her. “I kn-kn-know.” The empty spot left by the tooth he’d lost last week winked up at her. Then he looked back to Matt. “I stutter.”
Matt’s brows dipped deeper. “Hmm. You didn’t stutter just then. Are you sure you stutter?”
Danny laughed out loud. Honey hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d heard her son’s unbridled laughter. He took a big spoonful of cereal and chewed. Milk dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. He caught it with his fist, then went back to eating his cereal.
“Use your napkin, Danny.” She handed him the white linen square.
“So, tell me about this play. What’s your part?”
Danny swallowed. “A t-t-tomato.”
As Danny expanded on his debut into the world of “Farmer Jones’s Vegetable Garden,” Matt listened raptly to every word.
Honey suddenly felt invisible. And she wasn’t at all sure she liked that feeling. In fact, she knew she didn’t.
Danny had just finished relating the play’s grand climax, describing how all the vegetables came on stage for their final bow, when a horn sounded out front.
“Danny, the bus is here. You can tell Uncle Matt more later.”
Jumping up, Danny grabbed his knapsack and turned back to Matt. “You’ll be h-h-here when I g-g-get home?”
“Right here,” Matt assured him, then smiled a smile that Honey hadn’t seen in over seven years.
Danny beamed from ear to ear, first at Matt, then at his mother. It was like looking at a smaller version of Matt. For the second time that morning, she needed the chair for stability.
Glad for an excuse to escape Matt and his smothering charm, she walked Danny to the door and down the front steps of the house. She leaned down and straightened his collar while offering her cheek for a goodbye kiss. With a sigh and rolling eyes, he obliged, leaving a milk smear on her skin. As she straightened and wiped it off, she noted Danny waving to the dining room windows. Turning, she found Matt, curtain pulled back, watching Danny climb aboard the yellow-and-black bus.
MATT NEVER TOOK HIS EYES off the bus as it moved down the driveway, the sound of exuberant children’s voices spilling from the open windows.
“My son.” The words slipped from his lips experimentally.
Suddenly, a gut-wrenching ache seized him. The pain nearly doubled him over. He’d missed six years of Danny’s life. She’d stolen it from him, and he could never, ever get it back. He curled his hands into fists and drove one against the window frame to still the agony that sliced through his chest and ate deep into his heart.
He wanted to go after Honey and demand to know why she’d never told him, but he was afraid of what he’d do. Instead, he took deep breaths until the ache eased and he could stand upright again. Through the curtain, he could see Honey, her back to him, her gazed centered on the spot where the bus carrying their son had last been visible through the line of red oaks bordering the drive.
How could a woman he remembered as being sweet and sensitive have done something so cruel? Then he recalled how, seven years ago, she’d professed to love him, then barely waited for him to clear the town line before she’d married his best friend and cousin. Sweet and sensitive hardly fit Honey Kingston.
His mouth set in a grim line of determination, Matt strode from the room, determined to learn the truth. His angry steps ate up the distance between him and the woman who had betrayed him, not once, but twice, and in the cruelest way possible.
Careful not to alarm her of his approach, he walked up behind her, then laid his hand on her shoulder. When she seemed to ignore him, he spun her to face him.
“Come inside. We need to talk…about our son.”