Page 52 of Covert

“Can I come in?”

Her voice came out a whisper, and for one, insane moment, despite all that had happened and all she’d said, he wanted to reach out and envelop her in his arms.

“I’m going to bed,” he muttered, hoping his glare would drive her away.

Unfortunately, his words conjured up visions of taking her with him, and a certain part of his anatomy responded in predictable fashion.

“This won’t take long.”

Her green eyes pleaded and she worried her lower lip with her teeth. He’d never seen her like this—nervous, vulnerable, almost fearful— and despite his intentions to push her away, it shook him.

“Fine. But make it snappy.”

He opened the door wider and gestured her in, trying to ignore the waft of floral perfume that enveloped him in a sensuous cloud as she entered his hotel room. Rather than gaining control of his libido, his body flared with desire at the familiar scent and he mentally chastised himself for still wanting her.

She strolled to the window and looked at the view, before squaring her shoulders and turning to face him.

“I came here to apologise.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it?”

No matter what she said now, it wouldn’t make one iota of difference. He’d resolved to forget this woman and throw himself into what he knew best, making his family business flourish.

“I hope not.” She stared at him with sad eyes, beseeching him to listen. “I shouldn’t have said those things about your father. I was way out of line and hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Forget it.”

He waved away her apology as if it meant nothing. Words were useless now. Too much had happened for a trite apology to mean much.

“Please, let me finish.” She plucked at a loose thread on her gown and he imagined the gossamer-thin thing would unravel before his eyes. Yet another indication of how sleep-deprived he was, ridiculous wishful thinking. “I know how you feel—“

“You have no idea how I feel.” His patience finally snapped. “I was like you once, trying to shirk family responsibilities with every fibre of my being. And you know what happened? It killed my dad.”

He stalked toward her, wishing she’d stop staring at him with pity in her eyes.

“I couldn’t wait to escape, especially Budgeree. My dad would rave for hours about how that piece of land would be the crowning jewel in the Harmon fortune, and all that time I would listen and nod and plan my life away from it.”

He snapped his fingers. “Then I finally did it. I left dad, his pipe dreams, and the whole damn lot behind me and didn’t look back.”

He shook his head, the old familiar pain cleaving his chest in two. “Do you want to know what happened? The pressure of running the business alone killed him.Ikilled him,” He shouted, willing her to understand, the sight of tears welling in her eyes doing little to calm him.

He turned away, wishing she’d get the hell out of his life. He hadn’t meant to tell her all that. The truth had spilled out, leaving him strangely relieved.

She’d been the first person he’d ever voiced his guilt to, though he knew his mother suspected how he felt.

“Don’t you think he would’ve wanted you to live a little before taking on such a huge responsibility?”

“How would you know what he wanted? You weren’t there. You didn’t see the disappointment in his eyes the day I told him I was going away, with no idea of when I’d be back.”

The pain of that memory had eaten away at Dylan for more years than he cared to remember, though he’d done his best to make up for it by shouldering the family’s responsibilities on his return.

“Your mother told me,” she said, so softly he wondered if he imagined it.

“Told you what?”

“How your dad felt when you left. We discussed it that first day when I told her my family secrets. She mentioned you’d be a tough taskmaster but there were reasons for it, then she told me about your dad and why you drive yourself so hard.”

Dylan turned back to face her, wanting to hear the truth yet wishing they never started this conversation.

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