Page 78 of Do Opposites Attract?

She stopped in her tracks. ‘Yes?’

‘I think we need to talk.’ He spoke the words quietly and without looking at her.

‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I know Catherine’s rather pushed you into this situation.’

‘That’s putting it mildly. I feel as though I’ve been flattened by a bulldozer.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘But now the words are out there, we can’t just ignore them, much as I might like to.’ He stood up from his chair. ‘Let’s go and sit somewhere more comfortable.’

Nodding her agreement, she walked back with him to the sitting room. Brianna perched on the sofa, but Mitch chose not to sit. He prowled the room like a cornered tiger.

‘What Catherine told you, about my feelings for you. It’s true.’

Brianna let the words slowly sink into her bemused brain. ‘You’re crazy about me? Crazy good or crazy bad?’

He stopped his movement and gave her a brief smile. ‘At times you do drive me crazy, but that’s not what I mean.’ Sighing deeply, he carried on. ‘Brianna, I told you once I don’t know what love means. Well, I think I’ve started to find out.’

The words sparked off explosions of delight in her head. It was as if all her Christmases had come at once. But as she moved to throw her arms round him, she caught sight of the expression on his face. It wasn’t that of a man happily in love. Instead he looked almost defeated.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ He’d finally said the words she’d been longing to hear, but he was holding something else back. ‘If you’re worried I might not still feel the same, you shouldn’tbe.’ She could no longer stand to see his tortured expression. Flinging herself at him she buried her head against the hard wall of his chest. ‘I love you, Mitch. I love you so much.’

‘No.’ The words tore out of Mitch as he flung his arms at Brianna’s shoulders, holding her off. But then he looked into her eyes. They blazed with such love. Love for him. The realisation was so incredible for a selfish moment he wanted to pretend it was all that mattered.

With a groan he pulled her against him and gave in to the desire to kiss her. A desire that had pulsed through him since he’d first caught sight of her standing on the doorstep. As always, she gave herself to him completely, opening her mouth wider, pushing her body up against his. He was drowning in her, in the taste, the smell, the feel of her. But he couldn’t accept what she was offering. He had things he needed to say. Truths she needed to hear.

Breathing hard, he gently eased her away. ‘Brianna, I need to talk to you. I need to tell you about my childhood.’

‘Okay,’ she replied huskily, withdrawing slowly but still with her arms wrapped around his waist. ‘But I don’t think Catherine would mind too much if she came back and found us canoodling on the floor.’

‘Canoodling?’

‘Necking, snogging.’ Her voice softened. ‘Making love.’

‘Don’t tempt me.’ Needing to distance himself, he took a deliberate step back and tried to gather his thoughts.

Wordlessly, Brianna sat back on the sofa.

This was it.As tension gripped him, weighing down his shoulders, he cleared his throat. ‘Brianna, you know I never knew my father and that my mother died when I was fourteen. What you don’t know is that my mother was a prostitute. My father was one of her clients, though she never knew which one.’

‘Oh my God.’ Brianna sank back against the sofa.

‘My real name is spelt Mich,’ he carried on, grimly determined, not daring to look at her. ‘It’s short for the tyre company, Michelin. A little joke from my mother, as I was a constant reminder to her of the importance of using rubbers. I changed the damn thing as soon as I was old enough.’ Finally he looked at her, and what he saw made his voice falter. ‘So . . . well, now you can see why I never really spoke about my childhood.’ God, she looked shell-shocked. Maybe he could live with that, but then there was the expression in her eyes. They were filled with a disgust that left him reeling. He’d expected it — what woman wants to know she’s slept with the son of a whore? — but still it hurt. So damn much.

‘Was she a good mother?’

Her question caught him by surprise. At least she was still willing to talk to him. ‘It depends what you mean by good. My friends thought she was great. I could go out as late as I wanted. I didn’t need to let her know where I was, or who I was with. She didn’t shout when I had poor marks at school, or when I was caught by the police for stealing or joyriding.’ Oh boy, the bitterness wouldn’t stop flowing out of him. ‘Frankly, she didn’t care. All she was bothered about was when her next client was due and when she could get her next fix.’ He forced himself to look Brianna in the eye. ‘She was an addict, too. Started off small time, but ended up on the hard stuff.’

‘Is that what killed her?’

‘Yes,’ he replied shortly. ‘I came back from school one day and found her lying on the bed next to a syringe. I could tell straight away she was dead. I called 999 and was waiting with her when I suddenly realised if I hung around, I’d be taken into care. I’d heard rumours of what that was like, and there was no way it was happening to me. So I took what money I could find and scarpered.’

‘And that’s how you came to be squatting in Catherine’s house,’ Brianna murmured.

He shrugged, trying to give the appearance it didn’t bother him much now. He didn’t think he was deceiving either of them. ‘I tried living on the streets at first, but it was cold and uncomfortable. That’s when I started wandering round the roads further afield. The ones with the fancy houses. A lot of them looked like they weren’t lived in. I watched Catherine’s house for a week, didn’t see anybody enter or leave, so I decided to make it my temporary home.’

‘You broke in?’

‘Yes. It wasn’t the first time I’d done that, either.’ He spoke harshly, full of self-loathing. ‘You’ve seen my tattoo?’ Brianna simply nodded. ‘I was a member of the Panthers. We were a group of teenage kids who liked to think we were hard. We stole cars, broke into houses.’ He turned away, too ashamed to look at her, too disgusted at the boy he’d been. He could tell himself he’d managed to straighten himself out. He could hope he’d done enough good since that it had counterbalanced some of the bad. What he couldn’t do anymore was hide away from what he had once been. ‘I think you’ve heard the rest, from Catherine. So, there you have it, my full life history.’

Brianna felt the tears on her cheeks and knew she’d been crying for a while. As he stood, shoulders rigid, staring out of the window, she realised she finally understood him. No wonder he fought so hard not to let others get too close. He’d practically been abandoned as a child; had never experienced a parent’s unconditional love. Something she had always taken for granted. So he’d coped by telling himself he didn’t need anybody.

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